Page 87 of Forbidden Game

I can’t even leave it unlocked.

It has a damn keypad.

As if sensing my growing frustration, Parker pops off my bed and grabs the mugs he abandoned on my armoire. He hands the apple-shaped mug to me, reserving the blueberry-shaped one for himself.

“Well, love, as you now know, I do own this building. Access isn’t exactly hard to come by.” He takes an innocent sip of his tea.

“Abusing your privilege once again, I see.” I take a small taste of my own mug, careful not to burn myself. The flavor is a little strange. I can’t tell if I like it or not. Mint is the main note. However, there’s a deep bitterness to it, as well as some slightly nutty tones. It makes my throat feel better though.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it…” I trail off. “What exactly is it?” I take another sip and tell myself not to curl my lip at the initial bitterness.

Parker laughs. “It’s Yin Qiao San.” The man has a habit of saying things to me that he just expects me to understand. “Chinese herbal medicine. I had the doctor send it over when I explained your symptoms.”

“Dr. Reston?”

“No, Dr. Zhu. He’s the one who does Jackson’s cupping and is a lot easier to get a hold of than Reston.” He rolls his eyes. “Are you still tired?”

I shake my head. “Not really. I feel a little stuffy though.”

Parker hums and holds his hand out to me. I take it, careful not to spill my tea as I get out of bed. Parker rests my hand in the crook of his elbow as he guides me out of my room. My muscles don’t feel like noodles anymore, but I don’t let go of him.

As we enter the living room, I realize that the sun is setting, sending a bright pink glow over my apartment.

Parker places his mug on my coffee table before he fluffs up a new knitted blanket on my couch and cocoons me in it. I’m wrapped in warmth, sipping on the not-so-bitter-anymore tea, watching as he cracks open my balcony door to let fresh air in before he turns on a pot on the stove.

My apartment has a similar floor plan to the boys’, but just on a smaller scale. It’s an open concept with the living room, kitchen, and small dining area all nestled within the same twelve-hundred square foot space. I have one bedroom off to the side, whereas they have six. My balcony only fits a two-person table set, while they have an entire outdoor barbeque area as part of their penthouse.

If my rent is ten thousand dollars…I don’t even want to imagine what theirs costs.

My eyes track Parker’s movements over the top of my mug. There’s not a single part of me that is ashamed anymore to admire the way his joggers hug his firm ass. Not after what happened in Seattle.

I swallow at the memory as my stomach swoops briefly. With my body no longer in crushing pain, my mind is free to trace his defined biceps as he stirs something in the pot. There’s something soft about seeing Parker dressed so down-to-earth; it’s like another barrier has broken between us. Just being in his presence feels intimate.

“What happened?”

Parker looks at me over his shoulder, “Stevie said you were acting strange at Crime Bingo—”

“Crime Night,” I correct him.

He rolls his eyes. “Crime Bingo sounds a lot more fun.”

“Parker.”

“Okay, okay.” He starts to ladle what I think is soup out of the pot into two bowls. “Stevie said you were strange at Crime Night, which tracked with the way you barely checked in on Tuesday on my run times—which were beast, by the way. You weren’t responding to my texts all day Wednesday, and then Lee texted us that night to see if we’d heard from you because she wasn’t getting any response either.”

Shoot. I do remember her text.

“Wait, what day is it?”

“Thursday.” He opens my oven and pulls out an entire baguette, which he proceeds to slice. “Anyway, I grabbed your keycode and came in to check on you. As your landlord, it is technically legal for me to conduct a welfare check.” He winks.

Oh God.

If it’s Thursday that means I lost an entire day that I don’t even remember.

How’s that even possible? It was just the flu.

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