Banking statements in his name revealed multiple six-figure balances. Stacks of paper bonds, stock dividend records, and a folder full of papers with the name of an LLC I didn’t recognize completed the booty. Apparently I wasn’t the only one with a business on the side. Somehow I suspected Robert’s company made far more money than the Invisible Baker. I spread the documents on the floor and used my phone to take pictures of each.
When I began repacking the secret compartment, the title to a boat slipped free.
I blinked when the owner’s name registered. “How long have I owned a boat?”
A low, familiar rumble rose from beneath me, and I stilled to pinpoint the noise.
The garage door.
Robert was home!
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Shit!” I returned everything except the boat title to the hole and stacked the magazines on top. I smoothed the rug over the replaced floorboard and tucked the title into my purse. Then I made a run for the bedroom door.
Robert’s voice rose up the staircase, followed by a booming laugh. “That’s the plan,” he said. “Move it all to Bitcoin.” His voice sounded airy and fake. I recognized it instantly as his telephone voice.
I froze, teeth gritted and panic rising. At least he was on the phone, not coming home with a client, or worse, another woman. Maybe he would change clothes and leave. Then I remembered he had no reason to leave—our suite had everything he needed to stay forever.
He whistled his way along the hall outside our bedroom.
Hide and wait him out? Or come clean?
I turned the light off and ran into the bathroom. If he saw me, he’d be livid. He’d probably accuse me of something terrible to keep the spotlight off himself. Fear tightened my throat and rib cage.
A swath of light slid beneath the bathroom door. He’d turned on the bedroom light. Soon Robert’s whistles changed to humming. He shuffled across the plush carpet and the bathroom doorknob turned.
I imagined throwing myself through the large window onto the ground below.
His phone rang. The door didn’t open.
“Hey, what’s up? I just got home,” he said.
Two calls in five minutes? Whistling. Humming. Laughter. How was his life this much fun, when mine was on the brink of explosion?
“No, no, no,” he said. “I’m a married man.” His false laughter raked fire down my spine.
I caught sight of my grimace in the bathroom mirror and rearranged my features. It didn’t matter what Robert did, but I hated that he was still married.To me.
“Of course,” he continued. “I’m going to catch a quick shower before I head out, but I’ll be there. Oh, I’m sure,” he said. “I’ll catch you on the green.”
My hands balled into fists. I needed a plan. Now.
“All right. Be there soon,” he said. His voice grew louder as he moved toward the bathroom door. I had nowhere to hide.
I was busted, and I needed a plan before he had me arrested for trespassing, or some other complete bullshit. Who knew what he’d make up, given a golden opportunity like this one?
My mind rewound his phone conversation, and the worst plan imaginable took form.
Like it or not, Robert was still a married man.
I stripped out of my work clothes and used them to cover my handbag, then hopped onto the countertop in my bra and panties. I tried my best to imagine I was actually wearing a bikini, and was on a beach—or literally anywhere other than my former bathroom.
I struck a pose as he entered, aligning the length of my body with the vanity’s cold marble edge and propping my head on one palm. I hated the massive ten-foot countertop he’d insisted the builder install. I’d never expected it would come in handy.
Robert flipped on the light and stopped short at the sight of me.
I sucked in a breath, forcing air into my lungs. “Hello, Robert,” I said, faux breathlessly. I let my eyelids droop into what I hoped was a come-hither stare. “I was thinking of you,” I said, counting on hisself-obsession to make the lie easily acceptable. “It’s lonely at Mom’s house, and seeing you in court, so confident and self-assured, I can’t get you off my mind.”
