This is gonna suck.
But perhaps less so than realizing Scarlett has uncovered one of my secrets–even if she doesn’t know the context. There was no paper trail of the Webber brothers’ ask. Just the money I carted home in my duffel bag then warily transferred to the cigar box.
Tyler was right. I need to get a safe. Or put it in a safety deposit box in the bank.Something.Having it where anyone can find it is dangerous, security system or not.
I shut off the water and strip. Getting into the ice bath is always the worst part, and now is no different. The tub isn’t super deep, which means I’ll need to slide down to get my chest in the water.
“Oh, fuck me.” It takes work to loosen my clenched jaw, but every inch has my muscles tensing. My knees come out of the water, but they don’t hurt as much as my upper body. When it sloshes over my shoulders, I blow out a breath.
Then submerge myself.
The freezing water rushes over my face. The burn of not breathing is almost comparable to the stabbing pain in my ribs causedbybreathing. I’m hoping they’re just deeply bruised, not cracked.
I open my eyes. The world above–the drop ceiling tiles–is blurry.
And so is the face that suddenly swims over me.
I grasp the edges of the tub and haul myself up. Scarlett jumps back, her fists clenched, and her gaze drops to my torso then back up to my face. I slick the water out of my eyes, pushing my hair back, and stare back.
She’s in pajamas. Not cute ones, either. Her baggy shirt does nothing for her figure, and her sweatpants, while seemingly thin material, fall straight from her hips to the floor. Her hair is pulled back, her glasses perched on her nose.
Fascinating.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Icing myself.” I raise an eyebrow. “What areyoudoing?”
“I have to brush my teeth.” Her tone is hot. “I didn’t realize you were in here, drowning yourself.”
She’s fun to piss off. And clearly my existence does just that.
Mission accomplished.
Well, one of my missions. Theothermission is to find dirt on her to put her even more under my thumb.
“What happened to you?” she asks.
I roll my eyes, but it’s probably lost within the swelling. “Nothing. This is how I always look.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, right. Fine, don’t tell me.”
The fact that she’s still standing at the edge of the tub, a red tint to her cheeks, says a lot. She could’ve immediately left the bathroom or, I don’t know, brushed her teeth and left me to my underwater meditation.
“You done ogling me, Wallace?”
She cringes and spins away. She tucks an invisible strand of hair behind her ear and plucks her toothbrush from its cup. Her movements are jerky, and it doesn’t seem like she’s fully focused on the task.
I smile to myself. The water doesn’t even feel cold anymore, although cubes bump my skin. So maybe I’m just crazy.
When she’s nearly done brushing her teeth, I say, “By the way, I thought that was an extra toothbrush. I used it to clean soap scum in the tub this morning.”
The toothbrush falls from her mouth, and she gags and spits then grabs the cup and frantically flushes out her mouth. When she shoves herself back upright, she glares at me.
“Tell me you’re kidding.”
I lift my shoulder, masking the stab of pain, and mime zipping my lips.
Without another word, I sink back under the water. Hopefully she gets the message and leaves me the fuck alone—until I can find something to hold over her, anyway.
