Chapter 16
Alina
Istand in the back corner of Sistine folding the same stack of shirts over and over again, not really paying much attention to what I’m doing.
It’s a quiet day. At least Finn isn’t lurking around scaring away our customers.
A big man with a neck like a tree trunk stopped by a couple of minutes after we opened to introduce himself as my personal guard.
He has a thick Scottish accent and didn’t seem like the type to talk much.
I haven’t seen him or his team since, which is exactly what I wanted.
I don’t feel safe though.
The note’s in my pocket. I keep touching it as I fold and fold and fold. There are too many unanswered questions, and the more I worry at them, the thicker and heavier my anxiety becomes.
“You know, eventually those shirts are going to crumble to dust.” Kira peers at me from the front counter. She’s frowning slightly.
“What do you mean?”
She mimes tossing dust into the air. “You’re stress folding again.”
“Again? Do I do this a lot?”
“All the time. But this one’s a doozy. I think you’ve been back there for like an hour now.”
I stare at the stack of shirts. “It’s not perfect.”
“It never will be at that rate.”
I force myself to unclench my jaw and step away from the folding table. Kira watches as I come around and slump down onto a stool set out behind her. There’s nobody in the shop except for us, but I feel like I’m being watched all the time.
“Can I tell you something?” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “It’s a huge secret.”
“Oh, yeah? A naughty secret?” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down.
“No, not a fun one, unfortunately. Just the normal boring type of secret.”
“What’s going on?”
I take the note from my pocket and smooth it out on the counter. She stares at the paper, her lips tugging into a deep frown as she reads it, flips it over, and reads it again.
“I found that a couple nights ago. I have no idea where it came from. There was a noise downstairs in my apartment, and when I went to check it out, that note was waiting for me.”
“Seriously?” She stares at the paper like she might be able to see some kind of incriminating DNA. “That’s insanely creepy.”
“I know, right? I don’t understand who would write something like that.”
“And they broke into your apartment to leave it?”
“I think so? I really don’t know where it came from. The more I think about that night, the more I’m wondering if I made the whole thing up and just sleepwalked myself into writing the note.”
Kira grabs a pen and some scrap paper, shoving both at me. “Let’s test that theory.”
I write out the note several times in a bunch of different ways with both hands. None of them look close to the mystery handwriting.
“You know the worst part? Seamus heard me moving around downstairs that night and came to check out what was happening. I meant to tell him about it, but I got, uh, distracted, and I haven’t been able to bring it up since.”
Kira’s eyes brighten and she sits up. “Distracted how, exactly?”
“You don’t need to know the details.”
“Now I absolutely do.”
I feel my cheeks burn bright red. We’ve talked about intimate stuff before, or at least Kira talked about it and I listened, but I suddenly feel strangely vulnerable. It’s not like I broke any rules, right? Sleeping with my husband is basically encouraged.
I’m supposed to be fucking him like a rabbit.
But it still feels wrong for some reason.
“We had, you know—” I push my hands together like I’m miming sex.
“A deep conversation? A firm handshake? Oh, I know, you played charades!”
“No, we did not play charades.”
“Naked charades. And you were miming how to shake a martini.”
I cock my head in confusion. “Shake a martini?”
“You know—” She gestures with both hands, grinning wildly. “Up and down? Up and down? But instead of the martini shaker, you’re jerking his—”
“Got it! Understood!” I cover my face with my hands and laugh hysterically.
Kira grins and keeps on shaking that martini until I beg her to stop. “You guys banged and you forgot about the note.”
“Now it feels like I can’t bring it up. Like if I do, he’ll know I hid it from him and he might get angry. He’s kind of a psycho about keeping me safe right now.”
“I noticed. It’s a little endearing.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t live with the guy.”
“Seriously though, maybe you should mention it to him. If someone broke into your house, that’s a big deal.”
“He already thinks my apartment is basically a death trap. He’s trying to get me to move to his house in Brooklyn.”
She gasps and covers her mouth with both hands. “Brooklyn?! My god, the man is a total monster.”
“It’s a nice place,” I concede grudgingly.
“Are you gonna do it? I never imagined you’d ever leave the city. Manhattan without Alina is like… pizza without cheese.”
“Lots of people eat pizza without cheese.”
“Disgusting freaks,” she says, utterly deadpan. “They should be thrown in jail.”
“Maybe you’re right though. I don’t want to risk him overreacting and freaking out, but someone did leave me a really creepy note.”
“Bizarre and creepy.”
“I should probably tell him.”
“Just mention the sex distraction. He’ll understand.”
I don’t feel as confident as she does about that.
Seamus talks big about being flexible, but from what I’ve seen, that just means he does whatever the hell he wants without worrying too much about other people.
That’s fine when you don’t have responsibilities, but he treats me like I’m precious luggage or something.
As the day wears on, I refrain from stress folding. By the time I’m heading back to my apartment, I’ve basically convinced myself that I have to tell him the truth. If I want him to be honest with me and treat me like an equal, I need to show him the same respect.
He’ll understand. Sex can be very diverting and I’m only human. I know he’ll lose his mind and insist we never step foot in my apartment again, but I’ll have to just convince him to see reason.
“Hello?” I call out when I get back to my place. It doesn’t look like he’s around, at least until I get into the living room and look out the window toward my balcony.
And there he is.
My husband’s stretched out on a chair. The sun’s hitting him, making his skin glow. He’s got his eyes closed.
And he’s wearing nothing but the smallest little bathing suit I’ve ever seen in my life.
I gape at him through the window.
It’s obscene. There’s practically a thin layer of spandex between me and his monstrous package.
I can see the outline of his cock as it’s lying against his thigh like a resting python.
I gaze up at his stomach, at his hips, at his sculpted chest. He’s glistening slightly with sweat.
I look at him like a hungry man staring at steak, at least until I realize he’s staring right back at me with a confident, lazy smile on his face.
I’d scream, but that would only make it worse.
He gestures for me to come out there. I want to turn and run instead. Seamus just caught me ogling him like a horny teenager.
But my god. Look at the man. He’s absurd. Nobody should be that fucking hot.
“When did you get home?” he asks with a sigh, stretching his muscular legs and making my heart skip out of rhythm.
“Just a few minutes ago.”
“And you spent them staring at me? How sweet. Glad the romance isn’t dead yet.”
“Romance was never alive to begin with. What are you doing out here?”
“Enjoying your balcony.”
“In that?!” I gesture at the absurd swimwear.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“You’re barely covered.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure my neighbors might.”
“Doubt that.” His smile is lazy and confident. “Pretty sure the old lady next door would gladly keel over of a heart attack just to watch me pick up her keys from the ground in this thing.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I speak the truth, that’s all.”
“Seriously, don’t you have work? Shouldn’t you be doing something other than whatever this is?”
“I’m lounging. And I’m very good at it.” He sighs again, stretching his arms above his head. “Would you like to join me?”
“No, thanks. I’m tired.”
“That’s exactly what lounging was invented for. Go on, strip out of those stuffy clothes and sit with me.”
“This outfit isn’t stuffy. It’s chic and simple.”
“Right, your old lady blouse and boring work slacks really scream fun and hip.”
“I’m not going for either of those, and since when did you get into fashion?”
“Since never. Take off your clothes and join me. Quit being so rigid.”
My jaw tightens. He’s still got that cocky, lazy smile. The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.
And God help me, it’s working.
“I am not rigid.” I unbutton my blouse. I’m rage-stripping. It’s a bad idea. Wasn’t there something I wanted to talk to him about? Completely forgot already.
“Uptight is a better word.”
“I’m not uptight!” I throw my blouse aside. I’m extremely thankful that I’m wearing cute underwear today. It’s black and lacy, mostly because the blouse was very slightly see-through.
“You have charts explaining your schedule.”
“That’s slander. And it makes no sense.”
“You have twelve different colors of Post-It Notes and they all have different meanings.”
“I’m organized!”
“You’re inflexible.”
“I can be very flexible, actually.” I kick my slacks off and stand before him in my bra and panties. “Happy now?”
His eyes move down my body, and I regret my decision.
“Yes,” he says, staring at me through heavy lids. “Very much.”
That bastard. I swear, he’s getting hard. I can see every freaking detail of his dick getting stiff. Look at the huge thing. Getting all swollen just because I’m standing here in my bra and panties. It’s so pathetic.
And so fucking hot.
Wasn’t there something I had to discuss?
An important matter?
One I wasn’t supposed to forget…
“Come here.” He gestures for me.
“I thought we were lounging together.”
“There’s only one chair.”
“Oh. Right. That’s a good point.” I chew my lip for a second. “Maybe I should lounge inside.”