“I’ll tell you in your tower,” Sasha teases, and I turn away, a smile on my lips. There is something about these two together that works, but I have a feeling that’s also the problem. There is a lot of something between them, but both of them have plenty of reasons to fear trust and love.
I make my way to the front of the store, pausing before I round the counter, and I eye Gallo’s puddle of water that I should clean up but decide to ignore. Puddles of water are fine. Puddles of blood are not. Entering the office, I reach for my stack of papers, noting that they are face up now, not face down. Either Matteo or Sasha looked through my papers. Maybe Sasha just wanted to recap and see if she could think of anything more. Or maybe she added images from near the club. Or Matteo might have been curious. Thinking back to the meeting, he was pretty excited about the five-million-dollar payday, maybe more so than the others. My brow furrows. Why am I even spending time on this?
I snatch up the papers and leave the office, ready to go to my private space with Kayden. Even more eager for him to return.
Once I’m alone and inside the foyer of our tower, I grab my purse from the coat rack where I’d hung it earlier, settling the strap on my shoulder. I fully intend to head up the stairs, but my gaze catches on the office that is now officially where Kayden proposed to me. Drawn in that direction, I cross the foyer and enter the room, where my gaze lands on the couch, random memories from earlier today assailing me. Namely, the spanking that wasn’t a beating or really even a spanking. It was this sexy, erotic, consuming rush. Intimate and right in ways that I don’t think it could be with anyone but Kayden. And I swear I can almost feel him next to me again. And damn it, I can almost feel the way I hurt him, too. I inhale the scent of him lingering in the air, and promise myself I’m going to make up for that every day for the rest of our lives.
My attention moves to the desk, with the roll of tape still sitting on it, and I cross to pick it up, more memories flitting through my mind.
“What are you doing?” I’d demanded, when he’d started tearing the tape.
“Proving a point,” he’d said.
And boy, had he.
I trust him completely. Considering how badly I handled this afternoon, I need to tell him this again. Actually, I need to tell him so many things. And I’d love one of them to be the location of the necklace, so we can start putting all of this mess behind us. Motivated by that idea, I open the top desk drawer and scavenge for the supplies I need to create a memory wall. I leave with scissors, thumbtacks, and my trusty roll of tape. Once I’m upstairs, I stand at the edge of the stairs and wait for some sense of unease, but I don’t find it. I head down the hallway and reach our door, and stop dead in my tracks with a realization. Where’s that creepy “I’m being watched” feeling I’ve come to know as normal? I turn and face the hallway, waiting for it to wash over me, but it doesn’t. Have I finally killed the paranoia by talking about it to everyone? And my imaginary ghost with it?
Not sure what to make of this new development, I enter the bedroom and flip on the light as well as the fireplace. The bed is now made, which of course is Marabella’s doing. She is always on top of everything. Shutting the door, I toss my things on top of the blanket and cross to the security booth, where I check the entire tower just to be sure I’m alone, and then do a scan of the store and random other locations. Once I feel good about there being no safety concerns, I return to the bedroom and stare down at my supplies. I play with the idea of setting up a wall of memories in my dance studio, where memories of my past, and my mother, already live, but I really want it to be here in this room for some reason. I could use the security room, but it’s so small. So . . . where?