Plus, I can’t stay like this all day.
Moving ever so slowly, I roll to the side of the bed to get up. When his hand falls to the mattress, I still and look back over my shoulder. He shifts, but there’s no reason to believe he’s awake. I slink out of bed and tiptoe to the bathroom, pushing the door shut quietly until my back rests against it. A much-needed breath brings clarity rather than the usual rush of panic.I’m doing the right thing.
He might be the one with the concussion, but I’m theone acting like I was in the accident. Logic has gone out the window. I know what I’m doing is wrong. I feel it in my gut. But at what point will morals outweigh purpose? I shake the guilt from my shoulders and look in the mirror. My gaze dips to my chest with a university’s name emblazoned across the front. If I’d gone to Harvard, I’d be blasting it out there, too. Warner Landers might have expensive suits and this incredible apartment. He even has a fancy pedigree in legacy and degree, but it doesn’t seem like he actually enjoys his life. He’s wound up tighter than a bobbin. It’s the lack of fun, I just know it is.
Happiness might also be a culprit. Why else would someone find joy in ruining other people’s lives? And that is what tells me all I need to know about him.Focus on the job, Delaney.Get in, sweet-talk him into tossing this deal away, and get out.
“Take no prisoners,” I whisper. It would be a lot easier if he didn’t have that stupidly handsome face of his. It’s not fair for him to win all the awards from wealth to good looks. He does have his flaws, but even his personality is becoming easier to overlook.
I grin, glancing at the shirt again, even half-heartedly to give him credit where it’s due. It’s an impressive achievement. And though I’m not surprised he went to Harvard, I am by how soft this T-shirt is. Wonder how many washes it took to achieve this cotton perfection.
After snooping around the bathroom, I find a clear container of brand-new toothbrushes. Of course, he has them neatly organized and a supply to last twenty years. I roll my eyes. Does this maneverhave any fun? I’d have to see it to believe it.
I brush my teeth and then use the face wash he keeps in the shower. It felt so luxurious when I used it last night thatI didn’t even need moisturizer afterward. After patting my face dry, I put on my strapless bra and then ball up my dress in the corner. Sneaking through the bedroom, I quietly grab the first pair of shorts I find, slipping them on but holding them up at the waist as I tiptoe back out toward the door. I glance over at him sleeping so soundly and smile before I get frustrated for giving him the courtesy of thinking he looks cute all snug as a bug in that bed.
I close the door behind me and pad down the hall to the main living area to have a look around in the daylight. The sun hasn’t risen above the buildings, so the place is still cast in shadow, but it is no less impressive.
Pulling the drawstring as tight as it will go at the waistband, I knot it and hope it keeps the shorts from falling. That would be embarrassing. I get my purse out from behind the large plant pot in the corner. Hiding it seemed like a good idea last night. I didn’t want him rummaging through it for evidence that I’m not who I say I am.
Strangely, in the light of a new day and looking back, I’m not so sure he would have cared. He’s wily but still not operating at one hundred percent.
Today might be a different story.
I would never wish harm on someone, but if he could keep that memory loss front and center for a while, I wouldn’t be upset. I slide onto a barstool and pull out my phone. Seeing the time makes me feel less rushed. It’s not even seven, though I’d bet money that Warner probably typically gets up before the sun and works out or something. He’s got the body to show for it.
Hard abs.
Defined biceps.
The man has the perfect balance of athleticism—not overly bulky, yet he can hold his own. Those shouldersmade me want to cling to him like a monkey to see, but I have no doubt he could hold me if he wanted to. Why he’d want to is a whole other issue.
This con would be easier if he were less . . . less at everything. Looks, finances, apartments. Not easier to take advantage of, but I wouldn’t get so distracted around him. I would sound less like a bumbling fool every time I open my mouth. He would get the real, confident, and independent version of me.
Looking down at my phone again, I realize that with less than 5 percent battery, I won’t get far in this city, so I unplug his new phone to charge mine for a few minutes. I turn to look out the window, assuming I won’t have a lot of time before he wakes up. What happens next?
I need clothes. I need my toiletries. And makeup. I need to see my family. Turning back to the kitchen, I make note of things I need to get. After scrounging through the fridge and cabinets, pancakes were all I could think to make. The fridge looks new, given how few things are in it. There’s no old cheese or rotting vegetables in the drawers. There’s no cheese or vegetables at all. Talk about bare bones living. I’m not sure how he survives off probiotic active yogurt, bottles of Evian water, and French butter, so I’m certain he must have restaurants programmed on his speed dial.
His phone . . .Shoot. That will be an issue. One call will ruin it all.
I take it, tucking it into my purse because if I’ve gone this far, I might as well leave more destruction in my wake. Then I snatch the cord out of mine. I need to make a good and big impression, and I know just how. I have to get a move on, though. I slip on my shoes and head for the door.
The elevator comes quickly at this hour and spits me out into the lobby just as a lady and her dog stroll on as I exit.She stares at me, with no smile in sight. When her face pinches, I worry she’s swallowed something sour until I realize it’s me who’s left a bad taste in her mouth.Wow.Tough crowd. “I know I look odd, but I’m doing the best I can here, so cut me some slack, lady.”
She snoots and tosses her nose in the air after picking up her poofy little dog like I threatened its life. I didn’t, for the record. When the elevator closes, I glance down at the baggy basketball shorts I've knotted at the waist, which are barely clinging to my hips, his tee, and my flats. Wiggling my toes, I choke down the mortification and head toward the exit.
Seeing the doorman ahead, I realize that people in Warner’s life, even the folks who are only acquaintances, will know that I’m not his wife. What would it take to make him play along?
I’m too broke to give a reasonable bribe like I’ve seen in the movies. So he’s stuck with my awful effort at charm. “Hello,” I say, resting my arms on the top of the high counter. “I’m Delaney.”
“Good morning, miss. My residents call me Baker. How may I help you?” His smile is kind, and his thick accent is from one of the boroughs. I already like him.
“Baker . . .” I start by sweetening my tone. “Do you happen to know Warner Landers by chance?”
“In the penthouse? Sure, I know Mr. Landers. Good guy.”
“Hrm.” I smile, though I can’t relate to the comment. “Yes, well, that remains to be seen. Anywho, I’ll be staying with him for a while?—”
“Ah!” He stands. “This must be for you.” He sets a shopping bag on the counter. “The bag was delivered around six, but we don’t disturb our tenants before eightunless prior authorization is given. That’s why it’s still here.”
