Page 52 of Stealing Blinds

“We’re usually booked,” I say as the elevator kicks into motion. “It’ll be fine. I’ll get you set up in my room, and—”

“Your room?” she gasps with indignation.

“Yes.” I lean against the wall and cross my arms, enjoying her squirming. “I hear your eagerness, and I know you’ve got that filthy mind, but the best aspect of that accommodation will be lacking because I’ll be staying in Maddox’s room.”

She scrunches her cute little nose. “Why wouldn’t I just stay in Maddox’s room?”

“Like hell I’d have you in anyone else’s bed.” That is delivered with more bite than necessary, but the thought of Sylvie in Maddox’s bed makes me want to set that room on fire.

Jesus, she’s turning me into an arsonist.

She rolls those gorgeous ambers at me, searching for another angle. “And your family—”

“Is thrilled.” As the words fall from my lips, the elevator deposits us in the small foyer outside the penthouse door.

The second we step out, flashing red and blue lights surround us.

And a damn siren.

“What the hell is happening?” Sylvie’s entire body stiffens; she’s ready to bolt. “That is a really triggering sound for people in my line of work.”

I’m going to fucking kill them.

I whip out my phone to begin obnoxiously dialing each of them when the animated message—which my sixth sense detected lurking in wait—begins.

“Warning: Intruder. Warning: Intruder. Cash Noire has accessed the penthouse. Do not panic. Authorities are on the way.”

Sylvie’s face pales. “What. The. Fuck?”

“My family is just having fun at my expense,” I explain with my cell lodged between my ear and shoulder, the taunting ring fueling my ire while I try and fail to use my finger, face, and retina to open the penthouse. “No need to panic.”

“That’s what the message said.” She gestures at the ceiling because the speaker is invisible. “Which is weird because it seems pretty panicked that you’re trying to enter the penthouse. Have you been exiled?”

“Yes.” I hang up and dial Bernard—the man—hoping he’ll have mercy on me. “Like the goddamn prodigal son. You saw me scan my iris downstairs.”

She’s seen me with my family, too, so there shouldn’t be a question about whether I’m welcome here.

“Right,” she deadpans. “And we know how foolproof that is.”

That’s fair. It probably means little to someone who creates retina replicas to commit larceny.

Bernard is ghosting me, too, and I’m damn near close to raging.

Sylvie tries to get back on the elevator, but it requires authorization that is locked out, so that sends her into a full-on meltdown. She smacks the seam of the doors. “Why can’t we get out?”

“Look at me, Sly.” I clutch her chin, hoping to settle her. “This is a prank. I did something similar to Axel a while back when he was interested in Zara.”

She pulls her chin back, aghast. “You trapped him somewhere with lights and sirens?”

“I pretended that I was on a date with Zara in the Underground.” When her eyebrows rise just a hair, I stress the key word again. “Pretended. It was fake. Axel is not allowed down there, so I made it uncomfortable when he stormed the place.” I think she’s questioning my character, so I go back to dialing the man himself. “It’s not important. But this is definitely payback.”

Axel’s text about there being more than one way to skin a cat makes a lot more sense now. I’d applaud him if Sylvie wasn’t here.

She spins in a circle, as if she’s about to climb through a vent. “Or I walked into the lion’s den.”

More endless ringing.

“Goddammit.” I’m going to lose my fucking mind.