It almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do.Almost.
I push that feeling aside and scan the room. Spotting yesterday’s dress on the floor, I tug it on quickly. On the dresser, I notice a few of his things, as if he’d emptied his pockets there before he went to bed. A watch, a tarnished gold chain with a cross attached that looks ancient, and a small folding knife.
The watch catches my attention first. It has a red silicone band and a chaotic face displaying exposed gears, with ticking hands and numbers printed directly on the glass. It looks more like something you’d get in a Happy Meal than at a high-end jeweler. But the brand name makes my heart skip a beat.Richard Mille.A watch worth more than most cars.Bingo.
I slip it into my bra along with the chain since I’m still in last night’s dress and, unfortunately, don’t have pockets. I palm the knife, just in case.Too easy. I didn’t even need to check the safe.
Shoes in hand, I exit the bedroom and move toward the suite’s exit, my bare feet silent against the tile. As I reach for the door handle, something catches my eye, stopping me dead. The entrance to another bedroom.
My body refuses to move an inch as I stare.Nate? Seb? Which one of them is in there?A flush creeps up my neck at the thought of what they might have heard last night.
I shake it off and carefully twist the handle, willing the hinges to stay silent as I slowly open the door. The moment I’m in the hallway, hearing the click of the door as it closes behind me, I run.
My heart pounds, but not from fear. It’s the rush. The thrill.
I slam the elevator button down, step inside, and press 1. The doors glide closed, sealing me off from the suite. From Locke. From last night.
I pause in front of the elevator mirror, smoothing my dress and attempting to finger-comb my hair into something more manageable. Then, I slip on my heels and straighten my posture as I prepare for my walk home.
My gaze travels downward, and I pull out the watch, just for a moment, to admire it. I can’t help but let a small smile creep across my lips.
Because this is what I do.
Chapter 3
LOCKE
Fuck. What was I thinking?
Inviting a girl here. Letting my guard down. And… she’s gone?
I reach for the other side of the bed, but all I feel are ice-cold sheets. Part of me expected her to still be asleep, wrapped up in the blankets. I even had my “I’m heading back to LA” excuse ready to go. Instead, all I’m left with is a faint trace of her perfume on the pillow.
A quiet laugh slips out of me.
She left first.
Bold. I’ll give her that.
I rub my eyes and sit up, noticing the sun high in the sky through the window. I overslept. Too much whiskey and the events of last night hit me harder than I thought.
I need a shower.
I step in, twisting the handle just enough to shock myself awake. The water needles down my skin; it clears the fog the whiskey left behind, but not the memory of her. Her nails making trails down my back, her mouth against mine, her arching into me.
Most women linger. Hoping for a second round, a breakfast invitation, some excuse to stay in my orbit a little longer. To take advantage of my status… or my wallet. That’s why I stopped trying. But her? She slipped out as if she had never even been here.
I turn off the water and step out, feeling marginally more awake. My ego should feel fine about this. Hell, I should be relieved. But something about it doesn’t sit right. No one has ever walked away from me first.
I quickly run a towel through my hair before knotting it around my waist as I turn toward the dresser. Still trying to wrap my mind around the audacity of this woman. My hand reaches for the watch Iremember leaving here last night but brushes against smooth wood instead.
I shake my head. I really overdid it last night. The watch must be somewhere else. My eyes scan the room, snagging on every surface. The nightstand is empty, and so is the desk. Surely, I would have remembered putting it in the safe.
I blink, then blink again. My heart is hammering in my chest now. I left my cross right next to my watch last night, and my new knife. These aren’t things I would carelessly misplace. I know where I left them, and now they’re gone.
And so is she.
The realization creeps in, curling tight around my ribs, making it hard to breathe. She knew exactly what she was doing.
