Clarke shook his head as he turned back to the door. He grabbed the handle and turned it, opening the door just a crack. Before he could peek out, I heard a voice that made me want to scream.
“Lancaster, darling, are you here?”
I groaned. “It’s my mother.”
I almost chuckled when both Clarke and Eddie blew out a breath.
I knew exactly how they felt.
I slid my phone back into my pocket as I headed for the door. I needed to find out why my mother was here, and then I needed to make sure she left. If Sal was right and someone was after Eddie and Vinnie, my penthouse might not be the safest place for her, not even with all of the preventative measures that had been built into the place.
I walked into the main room just in time to see my mother disappear into my bedroom.
Oh man.
I picked up my pace. It would be fantastic if my mother understood boundaries. Unfortunately, Cynthia Harris had never met a boundary she wasn’t ready to walk right over in her spiked heels.
“Mother,” I called out, hoping to keep her from heading into the master bath. If I remember correctly, there were some things in there of a rather adult nature I would prefer she never laid eyes on.
A scream came from the bathroom.
Too late.
I groaned when I walked into my room and watched my mother back out of the bathroom door. I was pretty sure what she was staring at. Sal and I had played around with some toys the other night. They had been cleaned, but I had left them drying on the bathroom counter.
There were just some things your mother should never see.
“Mother.”
Cynthia’s head snapped around. “Junior, you…uh…” She glanced back toward the bathroom door. “You—”
“Youshouldn’t go into personal bathrooms without permission,” I said. “You’re liable to see things you’d rather not.”
Like a dildo or two…or four.
And handcuffs.
Some nipple clamps.
A cock ring.
I almost smiled in memory.
It had been one hell of a night.
“Come with me.” I grabbed my mother’s hand. “I’ll make you some tea.”
“Junior, do you…enjoy that stuff?”
I groaned. “I am not going to discuss my sex life with you, Mother.”
Ever.
“Salvador isn’t…” Cynthia glanced at the door again. “He’s not hurting you, is he?”
I adored my mother. I knew she was just concerned, even if sometimes she could be a little intrusive with her questions.
“No, he’s not hurting me. We use toys to enhance our sex life. We don’t use them all of the time, but every once in a while, it’s nice to spice things up.”
