I choke on my salvia, “Excuse me?”
He shrugs, then slaps my behind before escorting me to the bedroom, where, of course, he entices me with a bath in the deep modern tub that I can’t say no to.
“Why are you back downstairs?” Nate asks, following me out of the kitchen.
I plop myself onto the couch. “I need to call Addie and answer a few work emails before I pass back out.”
“Fine,” he pouts, and the second he turns away, I call her.
Not about the penthouse, but about my crazy job offer.
I’ve been trying to get a moment alone all weekend, but with the whole family there, it was impossible.
We’re deep in conversation, talking about the new project and how I want to surprise Nate with a glass sculpture of Endless Summer for his office, when Skye’s deep barks have me shooting upright into a seated position.
My heart races more from shock, while I rub down her back to soothe her. “What’s wrong, Skye?”
She doesn’t bark often, but when she does, it’s scary as hell and gives meaning to her protective German Shepherd self.
She jumps off the couch and begins barking again at the front door. This time, it’s not a warning; it’s aggressive, and she’s on high alert.
Then I hear what she does: the door handle to the penthouse jiggles like someone’s trying to get in.
Oh my god.
I run around in a circle, panicking.
What do I do?
When I hear the door again, I snap out of it and run down the hall straight into Nate’s bare chest.
“What’s going on? I heard Skye barking.”
“Someone’s trying to break into the apartment,” I cry, barely getting it out, my voice shaky, when Nate sprints to the door, grabbing a knife on his way.
Leo runs out of his adjoining door in a panic. “What’s all the commotion?”
“Someone was jiggling the front door handle,” I whisper, and stand behind Leo for protection.
He reaches around on instinct, holding me to his back as we creep down the hall to see what’s happening.
My heart is beating wildly against my chest, nervous about what’s going to happen.
“Who’s there?” Nate’s shouts, his tone lethal.
The door handle jiggles again. What the hell is going on?
“Leo,” I whisper. “I’m scared.”
“Is this where the party’s at?” a man’s slurred voice asks.
Leo’s body instantly deflates. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mumbles as Nate cracks the door, holding back a still-barking Skye.
“Wrong floor. This is 10A, you’re looking for 8A,” Nate tells the guy in a clipped voice, then slams the door in his face. “For fuck’s sake.”
“What the heck was that all about?” I ask, still gripping Leo tightly.
“I’m calling Owen tomorrow. Now that Maddie’s here, this can’t fucking happen again. Who the hell knows what dirtbags he has going to his parties?”
