Page 1 of Peep

Chapter 1

Anders

Sleazy fucking bastard.

The guy from apartment fifty-six is definitely having an affair. I’ve met his wife, and the woman he’s currently finger-banging in the hall on the fifth floor is not her. Couldn’t even wait until they got inside before committing adultery. The audacity, honestly.

Mr Abbott is an arrogant prick, whereas his wife is a bit of a wallflower. Not that I see her much; he probably has her tuckedaway in a plush house in the countryside. I can only assume this place is his shag pad.

It’s time to break up the party. No one’s getting their dick sucked tonight, not on my watch.

Logging out of my secret security system, I head up there, opting for the stairs because I don’t want the lift chime alerting them of my arrival. At the stairwell entrance, I take a few moments to catch my breath, then ease the door open and lightly tread towards them.

I lean casually against the wall, my inner voyeur taking advantage of the free peep show.

The woman throws her head back as he sucks on her neck like a hungry leech. The way he’s ramming his fingers inside her can’t possibly feel good. I’ve been with a few women, and I’m pretty sure most of them don’t enjoy such an aggressive approach.

“You like that, don’t you?” Abbott mumbles against her collarbone.

The woman’s eyebrows draw together in an undeniable wince, but then she releases an over the top moan. My eyes roll; surely he knows she’s faking it.

“That’s it, take it, you little slut.” The lady’s eyes widen in horror and her smile falters at his grim words.

Dear god, I’ve seen enough. I loudly clear my throat, making them freeze like mice caught in a trap.

“Sorry, excuse me, Mr Abbott. I hate to interrupt, but your wife called the front desk. She couldn’t get through to your mobile and isterriblyworried.”

The woman gasps while arsehole Abbott swiftly removes his hand from underneath her silky skirt and stumbles back.

The loud clash of the woman’s hand colliding with his chubby face sends a jubilant shiver down my spine—attagirl.

She steamrolls towards the lift as it pings open; now that’s an exit. Mr Abbott stands there like a gormless twat, catching flies. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’s experienced much rejection, so that has to sting.Boo-fucking-hoo.

“Stop her!” he eventually yells once his oversized ego comes online. “I’ve been assaulted.”

I brush my hand over my mouth to hide my childish smirk.

“Don’t just stand there. Do something!”

My heart trips as he steps closer. As much as I want to ruin this sleaze ball’s night, I don’t fancy getting into a fistfight at work.

I keep a straight face, stepping backwards out of reach.

“Sure, I better call the police. You have been assaulted, after all. What would you like me to tell them exactly? That you engaged in indecent exposure and unfortunately got walloped.” I laugh at the last word, adding a gallon of fuel to the fire.

He’s as bright as a freshly plucked tomato now, and it fills me with unadulterated glee. The adrenaline from putting Abbott in his place makes my hands vibrate, or maybe it’s a smidge of fear. I’m not too sure, but it feels invigorating. I love nothing more than catching nasty bastards out; it’s my favourite pastime.

He starts spouting some macho bullshit while edging towards me. I turn on my heel and practically run towards the exit. Better take the stairs; I wouldn’t want to end up in the lift with arsehole Abbott. He’ll most likely leave a complaint at reception, but if this is the only entertainment I’m getting all night, it’s totally worth it. I’m in for a long night, after all.

My head hits the desk with a thunk. It’s just past one in the morning, and I’m already counting down the minutes until myshift ends. I don’t usually mind working nights at Emeralds, but tonight it’s especially slow.

The luxury apartment complex I work at in Leeds caters to high-end clients, although they don’t all behave like they have class. I’ve seen all sorts come through here, from coked-up B-list celebs and sex workers to religious cult leaders. Well, the cult leader thing is just a rumour; I wouldn’t be surprised, though. Despite all the debauchery, the salary’s decent, so it’s not a bad place to work all in all. Another perk of the job is free use of the facilities; I’m a sucker for a sauna.

“Yuh betta nuh be sleepin’, yuh little rascal,” Femi teases as she ruffles my dirty blond hair, which I recently tried to va-va-voom with subtle highlights. It’s giving queer quarter-life crisis.

I groan into the desk before forcing my head up to scowl at her.

“You missed a spot.” I point at an imaginary mark on the counter.

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