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I laugh. “Fine. My lips are sealed. I won’t say anything else until you’re done eating.”
“Thank you,” she says, spreading even more butter on the already pretty buttery croissant. “You’re a doll.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I say with a scoff, and she holds up one finger as she chews.
A moment later, Kat shuts her eyes, her face shifting into an expression of pure bliss. “Mmm,” she moans, and I have to adjust myself as my jeans grow increasingly uncomfortable in the crotch area. “I swear, there’s nothing better than a fresh croissant. Certainly better than drugs. Maybe even better than sex.”
“Is that right?” I ask.
Kat’s eyes glow with amusement. “I said ‘maybe.’ And obviously, I was referring to inferior, underwhelming sex. As in, with anyone else but you.”
“If you think that talking about sex with other men will appease me, you’re going to be really disappointed.”
With a sigh, she presses a quick kiss on my cheek. “I just love it when you get all jealous. I think I could watch you throw tantrums in a fit of jealousy all day long.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. Don’t even think about it. I won’t put up with you going out of your way to make me jealous on purpose.”
Kat winks at me, but before I can put the fear of God into her, she takes another bite of the flaky pastry. After closing her eyes again, she throws her head back, moaning once more.
“For fuck’s sake, Kat,” I say with a groan. “Mercy.”
Bewildered, she glances at me. Then she smiles. “Am I getting you all hot and bothered?”
“Always,” I say through gritted teeth.
Kat laughs with delight. After setting her plate aside, she rises from her seat, strolling towards me. A second later, she plops her plump ass down on my lap, wrapping her legs and arms around me.
Unfortunately, I don’t have time to react to this fortuitous turn of events appropriately since Vladmir walks in with an envelope in hand. “Nikolai,” he says, expressionless, handing me the item. “A courier just delivered this. He didn’t know who hired him. It was all arranged via phone, and he was paid in cash.”
Curious, I forget about chewing him off for interrupting Kat and me again. With a nod to me, he leaves without even acknowledging Kat’s presence. I’ll have to speak to him about it. I won’t tolerate him touching or upsetting her again, but that doesn’t mean he gets to ignore her or be rude to her.
“What is it?” Kat asks.
I flip the white paper envelope, surprised when I see it’s addressed to her. “No clue,” I say, offering it to her. “Why don’t you tell me? It’s for you.”
With a frown, Kat picks it up. She doesn’t waste any time before prying it open with her index finger. Her frown deepens as she reads the letter contained inside the mysterious envelope.
“Well?” I ask, unable to contain my curiosity.
“It’s from Erin,” she says as her eyes scan the message.
“Erin McGuire?” I ask, shocked.
Kat nods. “Yeah. It’s bizarre. Erin says she can’t tell me all the details right now, but she wanted to share something with me. She’s now certain her dad didn’t kill Maxim. She claims it’s just not possible that McGuire murdered your friend. But she can’t explain how she knows that yet.”
“Convenient,” I say dryly. “Why would she tell you any of this?”
“She and I had a moment at McGuire’s party. We sort of connected. She was a little hesitant, but I believe she meant to tell me everything she knew about Maxim’s death before she disappeared. And she hinted at knowing a good bit. I’m not shocked to learn she feels compelled to share her feelings with me. I’m surprised, considering everything else—but not shocked.”
“Well, I wouldn’t trust her so easily. She’s her father’s daughter, after all. Besides, we can’t know for sure she’s even the actual author of this letter.”
“There’s more,” Kat says, still reading the note. “Erin warns me not to trust your men. She specifically says I should trust no one but you, actually.”
I laugh humorlessly. “See? This sure looks like some plot from McGuire himself. I wouldn’t pay it any mind. This message isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”
Kat doesn’t seem convinced. “Maybe. But maybe not. We can’t know for sure. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, actually. I feel like perhaps we shouldn’t have been so set on McGuire from the start. I’m not completely sold on the idea that he’s the only one who would have—or could have—killed your friend. Maybe we should step back and rethink our approach to this whole thing.”
I scoff. “You can’t be serious.”
