The second they disappear, I rush to the kitchen door and press my ear against it.
Shit. Was that a blender?
From the other side, Mrs. D.’s voice slices through the door. “We can hear you breathing, Harrison Evans.”
Busted.
“I just wanted some coffee,” I tease, cracking the door like I might sneak in.
The full force of giggling kids slams it shut. Mrs. D. levels her scolding voice. “You’ll get it with breakfast. If you’re good. Now shoo!”
I smile despite myself. “I’m going,” I promise.
I head down the hall and into my bedroom, closing the door softly. I catch my reflection in the mirror and take inventory.
Bright eyes. Unshaven jaw. Barely a dark circle, considering the sex machine worked overtime last night. And… happy?
Who are you?
I plug in my phone and wait as it powers back to life. Notifications stack faster than they should.
Eight missed calls from work. Texts marked urgent. That’s bad. Everyone knew I was off the grid last night.
A message from an unknown number lights up my phone.
What the hell?
The message opens with, Hi, this is Gabe’s sister. I?—
My phone rings before I can finish reading.
Iron Man lights up the screen.
Brian.
He’s probably fishing for intel on last night. He’s shit out of luck. Where Pix and I are concerned, I’m Fort Knox.
Not that there’s a Pix and me.
That would imply she’d want to speak to me again after my less-than-charming exit.
And unless I missed the memo, hell hasn’t frozen over yet.
I let it roll to voicemail and tap back to the message from Gabe’s sister.
Another call flashes across the screen.
Batman
As in Mark Donovan. CEO of Donovan Excelsior. Son of the woman currently playing Mary Poppins to my kids.
And a man who never, ever calls me on a Saturday.
I answer.
“Can you get down to the office?” he asks. No greeting. No preamble. Just clipped, sharp urgency.
“That’s a global CEO for you,” I reply. “Not how’s your day, Harrison. Not hell of a job selling your wares for charity.”
