Page 31 of Painted Truths

"Alex, seriously." Rolling my eyes for effect, I hold his eyes. "How often do I have to tell you it's Henry." Then, marching past him into his suite, I take in the room and the pigsty it currently resembles. The glass coffee table has two empty wine glasses on it, and the open door beyond displays a bed filled with rumpled white sheets and blonde hair splayed across them.

Is she here?

My stomach sinks at the thought, but I quickly mask my feelings with sarcasm and anger, my go-to weapons of choice.

"Sorry to interrupt your sleepover, little brother, but if you don't kick your companion the fuck out and get yourself downstairs right fucking now, I don't care if you're family or not. I will sack your ass faster than you can say would-you-like-fries-with-that, you got me?"

Jesus, I don't mean to be so harsh, especially considering the frail threads of trust I've painstakingly built between us, but Christ, the thought of her being so close and undeniably freshly fucked by someone who isn't me gnaws away at my guts like a rat. My stomach swirls sickeningly as I suck in oxygen through my nose. The unmistakable smell of sex lingering throughout the suite makes me feel worse, and there's a genuine possibility that I might throw up.

Without giving him the chance to reply, I yank open the door and get the fuck out of dodge, heading toward the lobby to await his arrival. He's caught up with me within five minutes, looking none the worse for wear and with his business game face firmly in place.

The reps from Van Deutsch Applications arrive earlier than we'd planned, but Alex and I have had plenty of time to form a plan of attack, and within ten minutes, they're rolling over, practically begging us to take the company off their hands.

After we sign the relevant documentation, we all shake hands and bid them farewell before Alex spins to me. "You are like the Jedi fucking Master of this shit. That was awesome."

Heat spreads across my chest, settling in the place my heart should be. It's been such a long time since Alex has willingly spoken to me—and words of praise at that. I'm at a loss, forgetting how to react to his positive words.

"Umm. Thanks."

"Thanks for flying out to salvage the deal. I'm sorry I made such a cock-up in the first place."

Shaking my head at his words, I pat his shoulder encouragingly. "Alex, you're doing great." Unable to help myself, I look at him intently, willing him to understand what I'm trying to convey. "We all make mistakes."

"Safe flight, Rico."

And without another word, he turns and walks briskly across the lobby to the waiting elevators, not glancing back once.

Returning to the penthouse, I find Tim Nash has come through for me with the footage I mailed him for. It's waiting in my emails; a copy of the entire twenty-sixth floor from 8 pm to midnight the night before last.

Pouring myself a glass of Macallan 64, despite the hour, before settling at the desk in my office. I turn on the reel, starting at 10 pm, as I reckon I was with Andrea around then.

When I start thinking that I must have gotten the times wrong, I see the elevator doors open and out walks a light-haired woman, who immediately takes a left to the ladies' room. Then, after a couple of minutes, she re-emerges, long blonde hair cascading down her back.

My heart picks up a beat.

She steps further into the offices before making her way back to the elevator, but something in the background stops her in her tracks.

She spins her head around, looking almost directly at the camera. All breath leaves my body, and I pause the track.

I was fucking right.

It's her!

Peaches.

So, if she's not with Alex, then who the fuck was in his room this morning?

Does that mean she's fair game after all?

And what the hell is she doing in my building?

CHAPTER TEN

Olivia

When I fly through the foyer doors from the DeMarco building into the rainy night, I’ve never been as relieved to see Samuel’s car by the curb.

My bare feet splash through puddles as I race across the path. As though by magic, the door opens to allow me to jump inside out of the downpour. Samuel is still stretched toward my door, obviously having reached for the handle to open it from the inside.