Or should that be a piece of ass?
I don’t blame her for reacting. The erotic prints that line one side of the tunnel had also robbed me of speech when I first saw them.
With males and females alike all wearing masks, their true identities would forever remain a mystery. The other thing the images had in common was the setting, being a heavily curtained four-poster bed
It was the bed I’d slept in only last night.
Soon enough, we reach the end of the tunnel, corridor, or whatever you’d call it, and face another metal door. Again, a 12-digit code is required to enter, and one that’s different from the door from the carpark.
If not for me changing the codes to a combination of birthdays and anniversaries, I’d never have remembered them.
Only after I’ve unlocked the door, do I turn to Phoebe. Despite the dim lighting, it’s easy enough to see she’s freaking out, and rightly so. If I was in her position, I wouldn’t be comfortable either.
“Hey, it’s okay. It might not look the greatest, but it is safe.” Then, despite the manners drummed into by my mom, rather than stand to the side, I enter first.
After walking into the main room of the villa and flicking on the lights, I take back my opinion that it’s okay. This is mainly down to the brothel overtones than anything else.
It’s a hell of a lot better than when I first discovered the place. Back then, a fine layer of dust covered every surface, with the bedding no better. It was just as well Liam had agreed to my using the place when I was on call.
This had allowed me to get fresh linens from the hotel’s laundry and toss the original sheets. I’d also trashed the old mattress and bought a new one, because, yeah, I so wasn’t going there.
After dropping her suitcase in the bedroom, I open the curtains covering the glass sliding doors and sidelights that frame one wall. Rather than facing the hotel, they open out onto a private courtyard.
A fresh look at the eight foot walls that enclose the space, and I doubt anyone is getting in that way. Along with a profusion of dark pink flowers, the bougainvillea that tops the wall has thorns as effective as razor wire.
If not for finding a dusty folder at the bottom of an ancient filing cabinet, I’d never have known this place existed. Nothing shows on the floor plans of the new hotel, rebuilt after the old place burned to the ground from suspected arson. And on walking around the grounds, even though I’d been looking for it, I couldn’t find it. There isn’t a chance anyone would simply stumble across the place.
After unlocking, and opening the sliding doors as far as they’ll go, I again turn to Phoebe, pleased to find she appears less on edge.
“You’ll be safe here. Other than my boss, I’m the only one who knows about this place, and he doesn’t even have the entry codes.”
“You’re leaving?!”
Her words are high-pitched rather than her usual mellow tones, telling me her nerves are back with a vengeance.
“Ms Jackson, you’ll be safer here than in the hotel.” I don’t bother telling her that Ralph has disappeared. “If you’d prefer, I can re-close the sliding doors. I just thought you’d like some fresh air.”
“How long?”
I take a second to decipher her verbal shorthand. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours with supplies.” After thinking about it for a moment, I continue. “I’m not sure how long you’ll be here, but it shouldn’t be more than a day or two.”
“But, but, but… but what about my shoot tomorrow? It’s important. Like really, really important.”
Yes, her shoot. While my preference is to keep her locked away until I lay my hands on her stalker—or even her—I can’t. “I’ll accompany you to the shoot. I’ll make sure he can’t get to you. You have my word.”
PHOEBE
After watching Wyatt disappear down the Portal-O-Porn, I shut the metal door and triple-check it’s locked. Wyatt is right; the place really is a fortress.
Re-entering the main room of the villa, I realize there’s little point in 12-digit-codes if the sliding doors are wide open. Ralph has shown himself to be resourceful in getting to me in the past. It’s not a risk I’m prepared to take.
My shutting the doors is nowhere near as easy as opening them had been for Wyatt. This shouldn’t surprise me after seeing how effortlessly he’d carried my suitcase. That thing weighs a ton.
Thoughts of him running into Ralph have me grinning for the first time in months. It would serve that creep right to have hisass handed to him on a plate. Wasn’t that how the saying went? It’s strange enough that I give into an unladylike snort as I think about it.
“I’d pay to see that happen.”
After closing the curtains, I turn and face my home for the next few days, or less if Wyatt is as efficient as he appears. The other thing he must be efficient about is cleaning, because the place is immaculate.
