How exactly did you get in,estrellito?
I grip the window’s ledge to pull myself up into the space and carefully manoeuvre my body over the sink to place my feet on the floor.
Christian is crouching in the doorway that leads to the hall with a bored expression and he glances at me only once before coming to his feet, “Okay. Lead the way.”
I grab him by the collar to press him against the doorway and his eyes widen when he sees the fierce expression on my face, “If you ever do something reckless like this again, I’ll shoot you on sight.”
Irritation flares in his eyes as he knocks my hand away, “I’ve been doing this for just as long as you, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“That doesn’t mean you act out on your own,” I growl. “You wait for me and if I don’t show up you take your ass back home.”
His glare becomes piercing, “I’m not a child, Reuben.” The warning in his low voice is so intense it sends a zip of pleasure to my dick.
Fuck, talk to me like that more. I can treat you like an adult if you want me to—
I pull my gaze up to the ceiling, because damn it, Ijustgot my dick sucked. I force myself to focus, pulling my gun from my waist to push the barrel into his neck in one swift movement.
“You wait. For me.”
He tenses beneath me, new indignation seeping into his energy, but when I press the barrel deeper into his throat, the anger in his eyes only turns me on more.
What I wouldn’t give to fuck you with that look in your eyes.
His energy begins to transform into something else, but before I can make it out, he’s slapping the gun and turning away quickly, “Okay! Fuck, don’t point that thing at me.”
Can’t promise that. That was a different kind of sexy.
“I'll wait next time. Let’s not waste any more time.” He steps into the hallway with his back turned, “Xavier will be expecting an update soon.”
That’s true.
The living room, kitchen and library are on the bottom floor along with a storage space and half- half-bathroom beneath the stairs leading to the top floor. The place is… boring, to say the least. The walls are painted white with blue trimmings and there isn’t a thing out of place. The books in the library are arranged by genre then alphabetical order, the china sets are sealed away as if they’ve gone untouched for generations, and even the office upstairs is minimalist, with rows and rows of perfectly stacked books on IT, psychology, biology—
This kind of house is a pain to break into.
“This guy isn’t a snob,” I warn Christian, “so be careful with anything you touch. His type will realize immediately if there’s a single thing out of place—” I look down at our shoes and I’m grateful at least that they’re not tracking anything through the house.
A stroke of luck.
The entire space unnerves me, and it's only when I step into the bedroom on the top floor that I find the reason why.
There aren’t any photos. Of scenery and famous places? Yes. But no loved ones, no hints to a personal life, or any life at all. Not a trace of personality or a glimpse of the person that supposedly lives here. Not even in the bedroom where he's supposed to sleep.
It’s the timeless house of a ghost.
Philip, if I had a choice, I'd truly choose not to fuck with you.
There’s only one room left, the one room in the whole house that's locked, but the moment I reach out to touch the knob, Christian is grabbing my wrist.
“No.” His expression is grim. “This one's dangerous. There's a system surrounding the room. Some type of security.”
I don't recall seeing that in the digital files.
Still, in moments, I'm pulling out my phone to call the best person I know to deal with this.
“Aster, we need an assist.”
“You're inside?” My brother is quick on the uptake.
