I said they were little, they’d need more than a stepladder to reach the high vaulted ceilings that were a feature all over the penthouse.
The private elevator pinged, breaking into my exciting thoughts on whether the maids were actually witches who used spells on those pesky, hard-to-reach areas, and the second I heard it, excitement whizzed through my veins as I realized Finn was home.
When his shoes clacked against the tiles, I waited with bated breath for him to come in, to visit with me, but he didn’t. His shoes, attached to those sexy rugby-player legs, passed by our bedroom.
What the fuck?
He wasn’t going to talk to me?
Even as bewildered hurt swirled inside me, I wanted to cry out for him, wanted to ask him to come in, but something stopped me. Tears pricked my eyes as I questioned what on earth I’d done to deserve the silent treatment, but then I realized why I hadn’t called out.
The gait wasn’t right.
Finn walked smoothly. Like he did everything else. Damn his sexy hide. He walked like he was fucking waltzing, without the mincing—although I’d pay to see him dressed up in a tux. His smooth steps, shod in expensive leather, weren’t the same as the clod hopping sound of leather boots. I’d never seen him in boots. If he didn’t wear Oxfords, he wore loafers, with even his sneakers looking like they cost a few hundred bucks.
Finn wouldn’t be seen dead in a pair of cheap, squeaky boots.
Which meant that someone was in the apartment.
Someone that shouldn’t be here.
My heart began to pound, and nausea swirled in my belly. No one should be able to access this place except for Finn, myself, and the housekeeping staff—who’d already been in this morning.
Was it Aidan Sr.?
He’d already proven he could get in here without Finn’s say so, but I wasn’t scared of Aidan anymore. Right?
He didn’t make me feel warm and cozy inside, but I wasn’t scared. Not outright.
I would never be able to say why I did it, but something had me getting out of bed. The pain that spliced my nerve endings in two had me staggering to a halt to suck in air. If I moved slowly, there wasn’t much pain, but I had to shift my ass, and that wasn’t easy at the moment.
I cursed each second that delayed me, but rolling out was no longer as simple as it had been a few short weeks ago—how had my life changed so radically in under a month? Just smoothing back the sheets, so it looked like it was made, was hard going, but I managed and padded over to the closet as fast as I could.
Having hidden in here my first day in this apartment, I knew how cramped it was, and there was no way I could smoosh myself into a ball like I had before.
I could hide behind the clothes, though. There was wiggle room and I had lost a good fifteen pounds—amazing what no appetite could do to a woman. Shame it sucked hairy monkey balls because I missed cake almost as much as I missed Finn’s cock.
Yeah, it was that bad.
Opening the wardrobe door, I slipped inside just in time to hear the bedroom door click. When Finn didn’t call out my name, I knew I’d been right to hide.
Fear washed through my veins, though.
If someone was looking for me, would they think to look here?
They’d know I was sick, right? Would know I couldn’t have gone far.
Then, I heard it.
A low curse, then someone started talking even though I only heard the sound of one person’s footsteps in the room. Had they picked up their cell? I strained to hear what was being said, but it was foreign. I could speak some Spanish, but it wasn’t any kind of Romance language I knew. It sounded Russian.
Fear made me feel light-headed. I hadn’t stood up this long in days, and my heart was pounding, making my temples pulse with a cruel kind of pain.
I clung to the rail with my right hand. Stretching had me seeing stars, but I needed the support and could only hope it wouldn’t come crashing down if I put too much weight on it. I tried to control my breathing, but it came out in gusts that sounded extremely loud to my ears. I felt hot in the small space and I wanted nothing more than to get out, to get some fresh air.