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I gave Mattie a distrustful squint as I headed for the door. She had wrapped herself up in a blanket hoodie, but she’d put it on backwards and had dumped a bunch of popcorn in the hood so she could eat out of it like a horse with a trough. She leaned down, stuck out a surprisingly long tongue, and flicked up a kernel with her eyes on the TV. Sensing my eyes on her, she flitted her brown eyes to me. Then she smiled around the popcorn in her mouth. “Pausing to rub it in?”
I folded my arms. “I should zip tie you to that chair.”
She shrugged, chewing obnoxiously. “If you feel you need to.”
“Stay,” I ordered, pointing to the ground.
She gave me a thumbs up, and her tongue darted out to scoop up another popcorn kernel like a lizard hunting flies. “’Kay.”
I punched in the code on the door, and with one last skeptical look her way, I eased out of the door and shut it gently. The house felt like a mausoleum with all its white walls, shimmering black glass, and cold marble. The greenery and trees along the verdant porch that wrapped around the three glass walls shrouded the sparkling city skyline beyond, and with all the lights turned off, I coasted through shadows easily. The Thornes did have some staff on hand, but according to their schedules, they should have all left for the day.
I walked purposefully past the yawning shadows of the living room, and then right by the gourmet kitchen to the hallway off to the left of the apartment. Augustus kept his study locked, of course, but it wasn’t anything a lockpicking kit couldn’t solve. Actually, my kit was overkill. I pulled the wallet-sized packet out from my pocket, chose a bump key, and fitted it into the standard handle lock. I pulled it out a notch, surveying the angle in the dark, and with a quick look around the empty house, I applied a bit of tension to the right. Then I smacked it hard with the heel of my hand. The bump key turned, and the lock clicked open.
Tabitha had already run a security systems check on the apartment, and she didn’t find much of anything. There certainly wasn’t anything in the study. I eased the door open, surveying the black, lightless room with one eye through the crack of the door.
“Will you teach me how to do that?”
I jumped, my heart squeezing in my chest, and looked down to my right. Mattie stood there in her sweater and skirt, her hoodie blanket discarded, and she rocked on the balls of her stocking-clad feet. I mashed my molars together and grabbed her arm in a punishing grip. “What are you doing?”
“Following you,” she said, like I was stupid.
“You are so dead,” I hissed, pulling her closer.
Mattie chewed a piece of bubblegum and smiled so I could see the squishy pink stuff between her teeth. “If you say so.”
“Goddammit,” I growled. “Get inside.” I shoved her into the study. She went to turn on the light and I yanked her away from the wall. “This is why I didn’t want you to come,” I said, my voice low. “This penthouse can be seen all the way down to Fifth Avenue. Do not turn on any lights.”
“How will we see?” she whispered incredulously.
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered. I pulled a pair of glasses out from my pocket and slid them on. I tapped the side twice, and the optics switched the room to black and white night vision. “Just stand over there.”
“Okay, but you’re going to let me try those, right?” she whispered excitedly. “I saw those in Spy Kids.”
My lips twitched into a smile before I could stop them. “Stay,” I ordered.
She saluted me but meandered over to a wall of doors that looked like built-in closets. Ignoring her, I went to work unlocking the drawer locks. They were a little more finicky, and it took about five minutes each to jiggle and smack my octo rake into each lock before I could get the drawers open. Mattie opened the closet doors and peered inside. None of those were locked, but she rifled through them anyway. Leaving a mess, no doubt. I divided my attention between what she was doing and what I was looking for.
Which was another reason I had told her to stay. Muttering under my breath, I shuffled through papers in the last drawer to the bottom left of the minimalist, white desk. Nothing. There were financial reports, investment portfolios, an acquisitions contract with someone named Jonathon Cohen, and some philanthropic initiatives that were probably more about tax evasion loopholes than anything else. Nothing to do with cathynol, and no shipping records.
A noise beyond the study caught my attention. Then a light flicked on in the hallway near the foyer. What the fuck? I shut the drawer quickly, making sure everything was where it had been when I’d arrived, and then I strode light-footed to the closed door. Mattie had flattened herself against the wardrobe wall, the whites of her eyes stark in the darkness. I shook my head, resisting the urge to laugh at her. I took off my glasses, pocketing them before I gently eased the study door open a crack.
Marta, the housekeeper, came down the hall with a bucket filled with cleaning supplies. Tabitha had looked up every one of the Thornes’ staff, and the red-haired, haggard mother of three hadn’t stood out as any kind of threat. At the moment, she had a phone to her ear as she gathered supplies from a hallway closet. “Yes, Mr. Thorne, that was my understanding. No, I didn’t see him come by.” She paused, tossing microfiber towels into her bucket. “Yes, he took a sick day with the company, but we didn’t—” she paused, apparently cut off. She listened to Mr. Thorne on the other end and folded one arm across her black polo uniform. “Yes, Mr. Thorne, I understand. We should have replaced him for the day, I agree. I’m here now and I’ll take care of it.” Another pause, and then, “I understand. We’re very sorry. I’m going there now to clean the interior windows.”
I looked around the study. Please don’t mean what I think you mean.
Mattie made a strangled, wordless noise, trying to get my attention. I waved her away, my attention still on Marta. The housekeeper hung up, made a face at the phone, and then tucked it into the back pocket of her black slacks. The moment her squeaky white tennis shoes started down the hall to the study, I closed the door soundlessly, locked it, and went to Mattie.
The white of her eyes shone bright against the shadows. “What do we do—” she started, but I put a hand over her mouth, opened the wardrobe, and pulled her inside of it. It was a tight fit—the thing was only maybe three-by-three in surface area and barely six feet tall. I pulled Mattie’s back against my front, fitting her to the length of me, and leaned back to keep from getting a crick in my neck. The lock on the study door clicked, and then the lights flashed on. I kept the thin closet door open the barest crack, shoving us both into the shadow of the cupboard but leaving just enough space that I could see the wall of windows along the left side of the study.
I kept a hand over Mattie’s mouth, and she breathed deep and slow through her nose, clearly trying to moderate her panic. She squirmed against me, and I stilled her, wrapping my other arm around her waist and pinning her to me. With her head against my chest and her ass against my crotch, she stood immobile and—thankfully—silent.
Sneakers squeaked across the marble floors until I finally glimpsed Marta. She donned a pair of bright turquoise gloves, and then, fitting a pair of earbuds to her ears, she started on a horrifying task.
She was washing the windows. Every. Single. Panel.
I let out a soundless sigh of despair, and it tickled the little stray blond tendrils that had escaped Mattie’s ponytail. Mattie shifted again, her ass rubbing against my dick in a gratifying and awful way. I pinned her tighter to me so she wouldn’t cause me to get an erection while we were trapped in a fucking closet.
Mattie wiggled anyway, first trying to get a better look at Marta, and then because I’d increased the pressure over her mouth until she couldn’t peer through the crack. Her ass, something I’d already fully admired in her tight little mini skirt, pushed hard against my dick as she struggled against me. I gritted my teeth, trying to force my erection to behave, but there wasn’t any point.
