tees were still there.
But so were new pajamas, bathing suits, bralettes, undies, and socks.
On a hunch, I checked the formerly empty closet and found tops, a few pairs of jeans, and some shorts.
For the briefest moment, it felt like too much. Like it was wrong to accept them. But clothes were a necessity, and since Maximo was the one who’d insisted I stay, it was up to him to provide them. Plus, as comfortable as leggings were, it would be nice to have some variety.
After tugging on a pair of jeans and a tee, I turned to leave when my eyes landed on the floor under the clothes.
Tucked tight against the wall, there were a pair of sparkly sandals, a pair of gray and white sneakers, and—my personal favorite—a pair of gray canvas slip-ons.
He’s trusting me with shoes.
Shoes I could run in.
I won’t, but I could.
Even though I was just going into the sitting room, I slipped on the canvas ones—unsurprised they fit perfectly.
Something about being dressed in real clothes made me happy. I felt normal.
I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but right then, I really didn’t care.
CHAPTER TEN
Code-Fucking-Red
Juliet
“I NEED A snack.”
Ash tapped the paper. “You need to solve for X.”
I didn’t feel great. I was exhausted, meh, and seriously hungry despite the bagel and fruit I’d had for breakfast.
“My ex can solve his own problems. I need a snack,” I repeated.
Shaking his head, he stood. “Let’s go see what Freddy has stashed.”
Eagerly following him down the hall and through a doorway, I was stupidly excited to check out the kitchen.
My excitement was warranted.
It looked right out of a restaurant. There were oversized appliances, shiny surfaces, and stacks of different sized pots, pans, and other utensils. The setup was overkill for the handful of people who were usually around.
We turned a corner to see a man stirring something in a pot.
“Ay, Freddy,” Ash said. “We’ve come for snacks.”
The man turned and did a double take when he saw me, and I probably did one, too.
I’d expected Mr. Freddy to look like Chef Boyardee or the French chef from The Little Mermaid—with the thin mustache and everything.
But Freddy was in his mid-twenties—maybe a little older—and heavily tattooed. He looked like the hotshot chefs from Food Network shows.
He recovered quickly, stirring with one hand while he gestured to a door behind him. His accent was tinged with a hint of French and something else when he said, “She can raid away.”
Well, I had the French part right.
Having tasted the amazing food that’d come out of that kitchen, I was anticipating snacks of every salty, sweet, tangy, sour, and spicy variety. But when Ash turned on the light to the pantry, it was barren, like an apocalypse had hit and the shelves had been wiped out.
“Maximo isn’t a snacker,” Ash explained.
Based on his cut, muscular physique, that’s not surprising.
“Is there any chocolate?” I asked.
“In the box of bran cereal,” Freddy shouted from the stove.
Ash pulled out a wide candy bar that was wrapped in shiny purple foil and tossed it to me. I tried to read the brand, but it was in a different language.
“You sneaky bastard.” Ash stuck his head out. “What else have you been hiding?”
“Cheetos in the protein powder jug. Starburst in the whole wheat pasta box. And beef jerky in the Cornflakes.”
“What’s in this big box of anchovies?” Ash grabbed it down and opened the flap. “It’s actually anchovies. Who the fuck needs so many anchovies?”
“Caesar dressing,” Freddy called.
Ash put them back and asked me, “Anything else?”
“Just the chocolate.”
He grabbed the jerky for himself before heading out. I followed, my nose going wild at the scent of garlic.
I hope that’s dinner.
Freddy was still stirring away.
Ash waited until we were across the kitchen before saying, “Thanks for the jerky.”
“Hey, I said she could raid away.” His accent was thicker in his anger. “You put my jerky back.”
“Come get it,” Ash taunted.
Freddy looked disgruntled, his eyes darting between the pot on the stove and the jerky. “I can’t leave the risotto. It has to be stirred constantly.”
“Is that dinner?” I asked, my tone hopeful.
Other than seeing chefs fail on Chopped when they attempted it, I had no clue what risotto was. But it smelled so good, I was sure I’d love it.
“No, this is a test batch of a new recipe.”
“Freddy develops recipes for the upscale restaurants in the boss’ properties,” Ash shared.
From the very limited amount Ms. Vera and Ash had shared, Maximo owned four hotel and