Home cooking and pats on the back when I got good grades.
I shake those thoughts away, focusing only on my plan. At three o’clock in the morning, not a fucking soul is awake on our street. Still, I went in through the back and kept the lights off to avoid pesky calls from nosy neighbors. Aka, Mr. Reeves.
The hallway upstairs has a huge closet and if memory serves right, there are suitcases in there.
Bingo.
Pulling out the ones that seem sturdy with a longer lifespan, I look around the closet and decide nothing in here is of importance.
Then I move about through the house and collect things that are worth keeping.
At first, I thought about faking a gas explosion, but as cool as that would be to watch, I don’t need my house to be damaged or for others in the neighborhood to be hurt. It would piss off Berkleigh and that would be annoying.
Then I thought about a fire. Easy enough to pass as an accident. Statistically, winter months are when most home fires take place. Fireplaces are nice but also deadly.
Finally, I settled on selling the place. No one gets hurt, nothing illegal is going on, and Berkleigh ends up with a nice nest egg in the bank.
We all win.
So I take pictures, upload them to a website, and wait for people to start bidding.
Did I mention this isn’t a regular website? Exactly, because Berkleigh doesn't need to worry about it.
Let’s say it’s my Christmas surprise for her. Who needs mundane gifts when you can get close to half a million?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Berkleigh
There was once a time when my job was my whole life. It’s everything I have worked toward, trained for, and I dedicated everything I am to learning my craft. But now that I know what else the world has to offer, my eyes have been opened to new possibilities that I never thought were available to me.
It’s been two weeks since I enacted my own kind of karma on Reginald Tiny Dick, and while my home life has been like a dream, spending every night curled up in Tanner’s bed with him, my work life just feels monotonous. Dull. Unfulfilling in every way.
Okay, I’m exaggerating because I have exactly two clients who actually make my whole day, but I only see each of them once a month, and one of them is always virtual.
Yawning, I lean back in my soft, leather chair and look around. Being stagnant and stuck in this office for over sixty hours a week doesn’t light my fire anymore. The books on the shelves are all educational in some way—which I love—the art on the walls is supposed to be stimulating in various ways, everything on mydesk is laid out perfectly…but the last couple of months have changed me.
I want more.
“You look like you’re about to break something.” That’s Tanner’s way of asking if I’m okay.
I glare over at him sitting on the couch. Well, lying on the couch as he absentmindedly tosses a blue hacky sack into the air and easily catches it without even looking.
“Is there something wrong with me?” I shift my eyes toward the ceiling, pretending the smooth white surface holds all my answers.
“Probably. There’s something wrong with all of us, it’s why your profession even exists.” From my peripheral, I can see him sit up, leaning forward and watching me.
“This is about to sound insane, so bear with me.” Slowly, I tilt my head so I’m looking at him again, and the asshole is trying to hold back a laugh. “Oh, fuck you.” I squint my eyes and growl, though it sounds a lot like Marge Simpson rather than anything that is actually menacing.
“Yes, please. This couch will do nicely.” The laugh transforms into more of a seductive grin as he stands, stalking toward me and avoiding the obstacles with ease. In front of me now, he holds out his palm, which I obviously take, and he pulls me to standing with him. “Nothing you say or do could ever be considered insane to me.” With his free hand, he grasps the back of my head, his thumb grazing my cheek, and kisses me. It’s quick, efficient, and over way too soon, making my stomach fizz with excitement. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well I can’t remember now! You just scrambled my brain and you’re looking down at me as though you want to eat me. How am I supposed to have a conversation like this?” I huff, but press my body closer into his and pout.
Chuckling, he shakes his head. “And so the tables have turned.” Letting go of my hand, he grips my ass and lifts me. My legs automatically wrap around his waist, where I can feel his hard length against my core. I have to suppress my shudder, and I’m certain my erect nipples are sharp enough to cut through my bra.
“What do you mean?” Sliding my palms over his strong shoulders, I give myself leverage to rub against him.
Delicious…until he places me on my desk and peels my arms from around his neck.
