Wait? What?
“What do you mean you’re heading up for a shower and change of clothes?” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t. “I thought you said you were going home.”
A sly smile slides over his sinfully sexy mouth. I see satisfaction dancing in his eyes. “I knew you were curious about where I live.”
Nervous laughter bubbles out of me. “No, I’m not.”
“You are.” He stares into my eyes. “I live in one of the penthouses on the top floor of this building, Isabella.”
I scratch my chin, trying not to let on that I had no idea that there is an actual penthouse or penthouses above us. I assumed that floor was undeveloped since that’s what Duke told me when I asked him about it after I pointed out the button labeled PH on the control panel in the elevator.
“I need a shower.” Barrett’s gaze slides over my black blouse. “I’ll be back in ten.”
“I’ll be here,” I say quietly.
I watch him walk to the elevator looking like he slept in his clothes. I know there’s a story there, but it’s not my place to ask. It’s not my place to daydream about my boss in the shower either, so I shake off the thought of what he looks like naked and I get to work printing out the sales numbers for Rusten’s Reads so that bookstore deal can finally be signed and sealed just the way Duke wanted.
Chapter 20
Barrett
I swing open the door of my penthouse to find a familiar face standing in front of me with a case of beer in one hand and a wilting potted plant in the other.
“Happy fucking housewarming.” Dylan Colt brushes past me. “Thanks for skipping town with no warning this weekend.”
My Monday has been the stuff of nightmares. My lunch meeting with Clara Boyman ran over two hours and then I had to put out three fires that Duke set before he left. He made reckless promises to a handful of Garent staff members that I have no intention of keeping.
I was banking on a quiet night at home staring at the television screen in noth
ing but boxer briefs, but Dylan called fifteen minutes ago to tell me he was on his way over.
I put on a pair of black sweatpants and a matching T-shirt, called the doorman and told him to send the smug bastard up once he arrived.
Dylan takes in the massive open space that I now call home. “Nice digs. I take it you were in Chicago playing hide-and-seek with Mommy Dearest?”
Dylan knows my story. We’ve been friends since we were kids. He’s had a front-row seat to the circus that is my family for years.
“You know it.” I reach for the beer. “Took me a couple of days and a bunch of calls but I tracked her down.”
Dylan drops the plant on the round marble coffee table. “How’s Monica?”
Monica Adler is a retired struggling actress. She never made it professionally so all that wasted talent has fueled her role as my mother.
I’m her only child and the oldest of my father’s four kids.
One of my half-siblings was born while he was still wearing the gold ring my mom slipped on his finger at their wedding.
“She’s fine.” I take the simple route because my weekend wore me out. “How’s Eden?”
“Beautiful.” His hand leaps to his chest. “She’s working late so she told me to give you this.”
He leans in and plants a kiss on my right cheek.
I shove him back with a playful punch to his shoulder. “Tell your fiancée I’d prefer if the kisses come from her.”
“Duly noted,” he responds, straightening his tie.
Dylan’s a divorce attorney. Eden works for the prosecutor’s office. I don’t know how the hell they balance all that with their relationship, but they make it work.