Page 78 of The Taste of Deceit

“You ready to get wasted, bitch?”

I shake my head, smiling.

I don’t know what I’d do without this woman.

“Fuck yeah.”

Katie grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the stairs. I don’t even bother asking where we’re going. By the time we reach one of the guest rooms on the west side of the house, she’s already pushing the door open.

I stop in the doorway. The bed is covered in snacks. Bags of chips, candy, cookies, brownies, popcorn, and chocolate are scattered across the comforter, with even more piled onto the nightstands. There’s enough junk food in the room to feed a small army.

I look at her.

“What the fuck?”

“We’re staying in.”

I glance back at the bed.

“For a week?”

She grins.

I laugh, dropping my overnight bag onto the bench at the end of the bed before unzipping it. Katie heads straight for the minibar. By the time I’ve dug my swimsuit out of my bag, she’s already uncorked a bottle of wine and poured us each a glass. She hands me one. I take it before disappearing into the bathroom to change.

When I come back a few minutes later, Katie’s sitting on the edge of the bed scrolling through her phone with a wine glass in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other. She glances up, tosses her phone onto the comforter, and disappears into the bathroom without a word.

I wander around the room while I wait, sipping my wine. The house is unusually quiet. With Michael shut away in his office and most of the staff gone for the evening, it almost doesn’t feel like the same place.

The bathroom door opens. Katie walks out in a black bikini. She drains the rest of her wine, refills both of our glasses, then grabs two towels from the end of the bed.

She tosses one at me. I catch it against my chest.

“Move your ass.”

I snort and follow her into the hallway. We head downstairs toward the indoor pool, our footsteps echoing through the otherwise silent house. Katie hooks her arm through mine.

“For one night...”

A smile spreads across her face.

“...this place is ours.”

The second we step into the pool room, the humidity hits me.

Floor-to-ceiling windows line one side of the room, though it’s too dark to see much beyond our reflections. Soft lights glow beneath the water, casting ripples across the ceiling.

Katie sets her wine on the edge of the pool.

“No running,” I say.

She looks over her shoulder.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Before I can answer, she takes three quick steps and cannonballs into the deep end. Water crashes over the side, splashing across the tile and soaking my legs.

I stare at her.