“Could’ve fooled me.” I narrow my eyes at him, to which he clicks his tongue and says, “Stop admiring your hands and go wash them already, Ledge.”
“Fine,” I tell him, and when he blinks expectantly at me, I grunt and get to my feet.
“Fine, I’m going,” I announce, and with the little asshole’s laughter ringing behind me, I start marching to the bathroom that’s just outside the massive hallway.
I use my shoe to push open the alabaster door once I’ve reached it, and as soon as I step inside, I’m hit with an overwhelming smell of citrus. Lemon, mostly, emanating directly from the wall-mounted automatic spray machines that are installed throughout the pristine room.
I bypass the row of stalls and reach the sink area on the other side of the room. Placing my hands under one of the marble-carved wash basins, I watch as a heavy stream of ice-cold water drifts onto them, immediately dissolving the dried blood from my skin.
I pull my hands away from the water and pump some of the gel-like hand wash into my palm from the bottle that’s next to the sink, then start rubbing it onto the still-stained areas. Using my thumb nail, I scrape off Fred’s residues from inside the rest of my fingernails, and have only just let water run down my soapy hands when one of the stalls behind me opens, followed by the sound of footsteps that seem to be coming close to where I am.
I don’t look at the mirror to see who it is. I don’t have to, because I soon feel someone’s presence a few feet away from me.
“You here with a family member or a friend?” he asks. A second later, the sound of flowing water meets my ears.
I close my eyes and let go of a breath.Don’t engage, and he’ll leave, I tell myself.Don’t give into your urges and fuck things up for Aras. You’ve got this.
“I’m here with my wife,” the man provides. “She just delivered our first baby. It’s a girl.”
I grit my teeth as I keep my eyes trained on my hands. Unfortunately for me, some of the chunks of skin I removedfrom my nail beds are starting to clog the tiny drain in the middle of the wash basin.
Fuck my life.
I shift on my feet and dip my index finger into the small pool of water so that I can push the blockage out through the useless holes in the drain. Rubbing my fingers over the squishy skin particles, I press them downwards to quicken the process.
“You okay, man?”
Jesus H.Christ. The guy just won’t giveup.
I release a relieved breath just as the last of the blockage disappears down the drain, then quickly wash my hands again before facing the stranger.
He’s slightly shorter than me, has a head full of silken blond hair, and eyes that are dark, yet look so vibrant that it’s kind of obscene.
He smiles when I look at him, them offers me a still-wet hand for a shake.
I glance at it, then him, before scratching my jaw and taking a step towards him.
He retreats almost comically, pressing himself against the ivory wall behind him. Raising his hands in front of him, he swallows and says, “I was only being courteous, man. I’m sorry; I get the hint.”
I scoff and move away from him. “Relax, will you? I’m not going to hurt you.” I shake my head and turn to leave, but stop after hearing his next words.
“I don’t know what has you feeling so dejected, but whatever it is, I hope it gets better. You seem like a nice guy to me.”
I laugh and face him again. “Trust me, buddy, I’m the worst kinda guy there is.”
He shrugs. “I beg to differ.” He straightens and gives me another smile. “I know who you are, and for a second, I couldn’t believe I was in the same room as you.”
My initial reaction should be one of alarm, but I just chuckle and lean the side of my hip against the sink. “Yeah? You a fan or somethin’?”
He laughs. “Better. I’m a cop.”
Now it’smyturn to laugh. “No shit.”
He grins. “None whatsoever, I swear. I’m an acquaintance of Arasander’s. I was supposed to be at the gala tonight, actually, to make sure you and your crew remained safe. But my wife went into labor, so I couldn’t make it.”
“Hey, that’s completely okay. I like to think we managed pretty well on our own.”
“Assuming you were washing blood off your hands right now, I’d have to say I agree with you.” He steps forward and offers me a hand once again. “Name’s Shawn Wiley. I’m a lieutenant at the APD and a friend of Aras’s, as I’ve mentioned already.”
