Remi’s penthouse apartment is cool and quiet when I arrive. Leaving my small suitcase by the door, I head immediately upstairs and dig through his closet until I find a T-shirt to nap in.
After using the bathroom, I pull back the covers on the bed and notice a stain on the sheets. My eyebrows pinch together. It appears to be a stain from a wet spot. Did he spill something?
I shake my head. No, he definitely would have changed them if he did. The man is fastidious when it comes to his space.
Going into the linen closet, I find a spare set and carry them to the bedroom. As I’m stripping the navy sheets from the bed, something catches my eye.
My blood chills, freezing in my veins when I pick up a lace thong that was wedged halfway beneath his pillow. The panties are white—ornon-hued—and judging by the dampness, they’ve obviously been worn.
“Ew,” I yell, throwing them down before running to the bathroom to wash my hands with scalding water. Then I use rubber gloves to pick up the offending garment and place it in a Ziploc bag like I’m a forensic scientist collecting evidence at a crime scene. I’m oddly calm, though all thoughts of taking a nap have evaporated. My ass is wide awake now.
I take my bag of evidence and go downstairs to wait for the reckoning.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Big fucking problem
Remington
I glancedown at the speedometer and notice I’m speeding. Again. Letting up on the accelerator, I regulate my speed. But two minutes later, I’m pushing the McLaren again.
Fuck, I’m so anxious to get home and see Mindy after not seeing her since Friday. I even cut our golf game to nine holes today instead of the usual eighteen, a fact Phoenix teased me about mercilessly. Like he has room to talk. He’s just as nuts about his wife as I am about Mindy.
When I finally pull into the parking garage of my apartment building, I use my fob to unlock the private section on the second floor that’s reserved just for me, pulling in when the door slides up. I need to remember to get a fob made for Mindy so she can park here too.
Zipping past a limo, two SUVs, a towncar, and three other sports cars, I whip the McLaren into its usual spot and hop out of the low-slung vehicle before the engine even fully dies.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hale,” a woman with her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail says, wiping her hands on a rag.
“Afternoon, Angela,” I say, tossing her the keys.
“How did the McLaren run today?” she asks, deftly catching them. “I tuned it up a bit this week.”
“Smooth as silk,” I reply on my way to the elevator. “Thanks for doing that.”
My private garage has an attendant on duty twenty-four hours a day. All of them are also crack mechanics, but Angela is the only one I trust with the sports cars.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I whistle as the elevator rises to the top floor. I’m positively giddy to see Mindy.
Would it always be like this? This overwhelming desire to be with her all the damn time? I’m happy she got the opportunity to have a fun weekend with her friends, but I missed her like crazy.
I enter the penthouse quietly so I don’t wake up my sleeping beauty, and I’m a little disappointed to find her sitting on the couch, fully awake. Damn. I’d planned to wake her up with my mouth between her legs.
“Hey, babe,” I say, toeing off my shoes and tossing my wallet on the antique table beside the door. “That was a quick nap.”
She turns her head to look at me. “I didn’t take a nap.” Something about the monotone way she says it raises my hackles.
“Are you upset because I played golf? I thought you said?—”
“I’m not upset you played golf,” she interrupts as she stands, walking at an eerily slow pace toward me, not breaking eye contact for even a second. She stops in front of me and thrusts something into my chest. “I’m mad about this.”
My hands rise to keep the item from falling, and I finally pull my gaze from her blazing one to look down. What I see only confuses me.
“You’re mad because you put your panties in a Ziploc bag?”
She smiles but not in a good way. No, this smile is creepy as fuck.
“What actually angers me, Remington,” she drawls, using my full first name, “iswhereI found these panties. Would you like to know where that was?” Her voice is deceptively sweet, and I have the bizarre sensation that my life may soon end.
