I was hoping to talk to Vanessa while Patrick distracted Moretti, but with her not being home, I made the call to stay hidden in the house until she got back.
Charlotte was my partner in crime as we scouted around for the pack bedroom the talkative woman mentioned, and I’ve been camped out in the nest for hours.
Patrick O’Connor officially hates my guts. He said as much in his text to let me know they made it out the gate without anyone questioning where their guard disappeared to.
The main problem will be getting the two of us back out againifVanessa is even interested in leaving with me. She wanted nothing to do with the other man she was supposed to end up with, but I have no idea where her head is at with Moretti.
Either way, I couldn’t bring myself to leave Boston without at least trying to check on her. I hate being trapped in a place I can’t easily get out of, but if worse comes to worst, Patrick and Charlotte will come back tomorrow morning to sneak me out again.
That’s if I can’t find a way out on my own or I’m not executed on sight.
I believed Patrick’s speech that Moretti’s security is significantly more advanced than what I dealt with at Vanessa’s family’s mansion.
I’m genuinely starting to question my sanity, and at the same time, I’m riding the high of a successful break-in, even under the unusual circumstances.
Vanessa came into the primary bedroom earlier, but she was talking to a man, so I had to stay put.
Then she disappeared downstairs, likely for dinner.
Now it’s just a waiting game for everyone in the house to call it a night.
Being overly cautious pays off. I almost went out to make myself known when Vanessa climbed out of the shower, but my gut told me not to. If I had, the guy who came to check on her would have caught me.
Based on the sound of his voice, it wasn’t Moretti. I heard plenty from him the night everything went down in his warehouse.
It does leave me wondering who the unfamiliar voice belongs to, but I bet it’s whoever Moretti assigned as her guard.
I’m paranoid as fuck when I finally let myself out of the nest and venture down the hallway to the pack bedroom. I’m also buzzing with adrenaline. Who the fuck knows why my system is set up this way, but it is.
There’s no telling how she’ll react to me climbing on top of her while she’s dead asleep, so I make a point of locking the door.
Her tart green apple scent is everywhere and the notes of cinnamon and nutmeg are easier to pick out than when I ambushed her after her shower in her family’s home.
Moretti’s home is on a decent piece of property for being on the outskirts of Boston. Although there’s essentially no light pollution from the city, the window does illuminate enough that I’m not afraid I’ll bump into anything.
Vanessa lies on her back near the edge of the plush mattress, and her dark brown hair fans around her shoulders.
She’s fucking stunning.
That much is evident, despite the low lighting.
Bending down, I unlace my boots and toe out of them as quietly as possible. My nostrils flare as I roll my shoulders back, and I’m once again smacked with her scent. It sends a pulse straight to my knot.
Maybe it’s fucked up, but I like stalking her while she’s asleep. I’d be open to fucking her awake from time to time, if she were down for that.
Shit.
Her scent is starting to distract me a little too much.
It would be so hot to fuck her here in herhusband’shouse. I use that term as loosely as possible.
Charlotte filled me in on everything, but she swore Moretti wasn’t a bad guy.
Which is bullshit.
I’ve known a lot of men like him. Some are better at pretending than others, but he didn’t give Vanessa a choice. That’s the exact fuckery she was desperate to escape, and just because he’s hot—Charlotte’s words, not mine—it doesn’t give him a free pass to do whatever he wants.
Damn.
