I place them in his palm with a grin. “Get yourself a cigar tonight, Lester.”
Closing his hand around the money, he nods. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do just that. Do you have more bags in the car?”
Gripping the handle of my leather laptop bag, I glance down at the rolling suitcase at my side. “This is it. I plan on heading home within the week.”
His blue eyes skim my face. “This used to be home.”
“Now it’s not,” I say matter-of-factly as both of our gazes catch on a deliveryman waving his arm in the air near the double glass doors that lead into the lobby. “It looks like someone needs you more than I do, Lester.”
“I hope you and your friend enjoy your time in the city, sir.” Glancing over my shoulder, he tips the brim of his hat with his fingertip before he takes off.
I look behind me to find a pretty blonde on the approach with her eyes glued to me.
I can see why Lester might have mistaken her for a companion of mine, but I travel light in every possible way.
Just as the blonde closes in on me, I sidestep her. “Excuse me.”
A night with her could have been fun, but I’m not here for a good time. I have work to do so I can get the hell out of this city as soon as possible.
High-pitched singing,combined with the muffled sound of running water, hits me when I unlock the door to my apartment.
I don’t have a chance to process that before my gaze lands on a multi-colored laptop bag and a matching suitcase in the middle of my living room floor.
It’s opened to reveal what looks like women’s clothing.
That matches up with the voice streaming down the hallway.
“What the hell, Drake?” I seethe as I fish in the front pocket of my pants for my phone.
I pull up his number so I can give him shit about whoever the fuck is in my apartment.
We touched base this morning. He was about to board a flight headed to greener pastures. He’s eloping with the love of his life.
If his bride-to-be is with him, who the hell is singing their heart out in my shower?
The call goes straight to voicemail. Cursing, I hang up and try again. His voicemail picks up for a second time. I leave a message that’s simple and to the point.
“Call me back, now, Drake, or you’re fired.”
He told me he stopped juggling multiple women six months ago, but if that were the case, I wouldn’t be listening to someone trying to hit the high notes of a song I’ve never heard before.
Or she’s butchering it so badly that I don’t recognize it.
I don’t give a fuck that she can’t sing on key. I’m pissed that she’s made herself at home in my apartment.
This is classic Drake. We shared a rental house in Rhode Island when we were in college. He used to offer a key to our place and his bed to any woman he fucked who needed a placeto crash for a few days whenever he flew back home to Seattle to visit his folks.
I shrug out of my suit jacket, roll up the sleeves of my button-down shirt, and head down the hallway with my phone in hand.
I don’t give a shit if the woman in the shower is important to Drake or not. He’s getting married. His fiancée will surely appreciate what I’m about to do.
The NYPD can take care of this woman since she’s trespassing on private property that belongs to me.
CHAPTER TWO
Emma
There’snothing like a hot shower to wash away a full day of travel. I had a missed connection and spent the last part of my cross-country journey sitting next to a toddler with a queasy stomach.
