His room.
It’s dark navy like the rest of his home. High ceilings and massive king-sized bed with charcoal gray bedding. An enormous television hangs on the wall. I bet he wakes up to watch the news in super-size like an old man. Sniggering at my joke, I make my way into his giant bathroom. The clawfoot tub is gorgeous and I imagine us taking a bath together.
Dream on, girl.
At least he has warm towels now. I marvel over the inexpensive towel warmer I bought him off the internet. He’s already installed it. Brat didn’t even say thank you. I unpack my toiletries, making sure to leave all of my makeup and hair stuff on the pristine counter just to make his eye twitch. Satisfied with my presence in the bathroom, I make my way back into his room. His closet is huge and looks like a suit warehouse bigger than my whore apartment. It’s almost comical how many suits Win has. I take great pleasure in pushing a clump of them aside to hang my dresses. He’s going to punish me for this later—when I’m tied and at his mercy on his bed—and I’m going to love every second of it.
Once I’m unpacked, I head back downstairs. I make a pit stop in the dining room to deposit the matching pair of pink bird salt and pepper shakers on the middle of his table. It makes me smile because they stand out like a sore thumb, but I’m pretty confident he won’t move them because despite what he says, he loves our little bird. Just as I walk back into the living room, someone knocks on the front door.
Scout.
Oh, God, I hope not.
My heart nearly hammers out of my chest. I tiptoe over to the door to peek out the hole. The relief that floods through me is brief until dread slams into me.
Nate.
He makes a great show of jangling his keys, his glare on the peephole like he can see me through it. “Let me in, Ash. I know you’re in there.”
I cringe and hold my breath as if he can hear me.
“Fine,” he grumbles, “I’ll use my key and you can explain to Winston why you’re trying to keep me out of his place when he just told me to get my ass up here to make sure you’re not stealing anything.”
Flipping off the door, I pretend he can see, and continue to bite my tongue. His fist slams hard on the door and I squeak out in surprise.
“I can hear you in there, dammit.” He continues to shake his keys. “I’m coming in.”
I wait him out.
“I said, I’m coming in,” he grits out.
Unable to hold back, I say, “Then do it already.”
A beat of silence.
“Don’t be a bitch.”
“Too late,” I say sweetly. “You don’t have a key, Nate.”
He jiggles the handle. “Let me in, Ash.”
“Go away,” I yell and then cry out when his fists begin pounding hard on the wood.
Keaton comes flying out of the kitchen area, a scowl on his face. I hold my finger to my lips and mouth, “Nate.” His brows furl together in a way that reminds me so much of Win.
“Jesus Christ let me in,” Nate barks out, desperation in his tone. “Now.”
“Why?” I demand. “So you can snoop around in his things? That’s what you were doing after all, wasn’t it? What were you looking for, Nate? I know all about your scheme.”
I don’t but I can pretend.
“Fuck off,” he bites back. “That’s rich coming from a gold-digging skank. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? What’s the matter? Does my presence impede on your attempt to bleed my best friend dry?”
Keaton’s jaw works furiously but he keeps his mouth shut.
“Does Winston know you’re fucking his baby brother, too?” Nate laughs, cruel and cold.
Keaton’s glare is murderous. He opens his mouth like he’s going to tell Nate off, but I slap my hand over it.
“Keaton’s not here,” I lie. “And Win knows better than to believe that bullshit.”
“He never left when they did. What is it? Did I interrupt a kitchen quickie?”
My blood runs cold and Keaton’s eyes widen. It’s like he can see us. The thought makes me shiver.
“If you’re done threatening me, you should go. I have a busy evening ahead of me contemplating how to get Winston to shower me with all his money. Bye, Nate. I’m calling building security now.”
His hand slaps the door once more and then it’s quiet. I peek out the hole, thankful to no longer see him standing there.
I go to open my mouth to say something to Keaton, but he presses a finger to his lips and shakes his head. Slowly, he walks to the edge of the entryway hallway that opens up into the living room and scans the space.
A creepy sense of dread fills me.