Page 67 of Citius

Jenna, predictably, stayed silent.

But I ignored their chatter, waiting for the only text that mattered.

Here.

Swiping my fob over the security sensor, the frosted glass door slid back, revealing almost six and a half feet of alpha annoyance. Cal strolled in wearing that unfamiliar blue suit that made his clean-shaven jaw look too square and his nose eminently punchable.

The bag of Indian takeout in his hand was his sole redeeming quality.

“Let’s go,” I said, turning away, not in the mood for pleasantries.

“Nice set-up,” Cal commented as we headed toward the elevator, nodding at the security cameras on the ceiling. “Ever had any issues?”

“Nothing major. But that’s why we hired the best firm in the city.”

A pack with three kids cut in front of us, dripping wet from the pool and wrapped in colorful beach towels. Foam noodles and pool toys jutted out from the parents’ overburdened arms. The moment the chlorine hit Cal was unmistakable, nostrils flaring, blinking away a wince.

I couldn’t relate.

Cal slowed down to avoid crowding them and focused on the Tolliver Yards historical display. Before-and-after photos showcased the power of Jacobi’s magic wand—turning gaping roof holes into skylights and piles of broken bricks into a luxurious sauna.

My phone kept exploding with notifications. Enough. Time for the mute button.

“Hey,” Cal said, tapping the front of the case and drawing my attention to a line of text. “Gold Medal Investment Realty, co-owned by Morgan Van Daal and Jacobi Zeldin?”

“Yeah.” I silenced the sibling chat with a sharp jab of my finger. “Told him it was a stupid name.”

He stepped closer, his gaze holding more pride than surprise. “This—this is all yours?”

“Mhm. Jacobi’s renovation ideas may seem insane, but they always work out.”

Cal ran a finger along the glass panel, circling our company’s logo. “If he’s the creative visionary, what does that make you?”

“Voice of reason. Bad cop. Piggy bank.”

His mouth quirked into a half-smile. “Impressive.”

“Get used to it.”

“Already am.” Cal’s gaze shifted back to the lobby, taking it in with new appreciation as we continued toward the elevator. “Does he live here, too?”

“No, he moved to California a few months ago.” I felt the absence of my best friend like a phantom limb. “Used to live across the hall.”

Cal quizzed me about amenities and security arrangements until we reached the sixth floor. Like most first-time visitors, his gaze immediately went up, drawn to the soaring ceiling. Exposed beams crisscrossed overhead, where fat raindrops plunked against the skylight.

I pressed my thumb to the scanner on my front door, unlocking it just as Cal’s head whipped around. His chest expanded to capacity as he took a series of deep inhalations, nostrils flaring as he focused on the entrance to unit 602. I wondered whose scent had given the game away.

“Who did you say lives there?”

“My current neighbor? I didn’t.”

He stared at their door, taking three more deliberate breaths, then turned to me, studying my face with unusual scrutiny. “Why?”

“Dinner first,” I said firmly, keeping the curious Tenny at bay with my foot as I pushed the door open. “I never submit to interrogations on an empty stomach.”

***

Cal sat on the living room floor, back against the couch, taunting Kip with a wand toy. By the time we sat down to eat, his suit jacket and tie were already gone. The more lamb curry he ate, the more casual he became until the top three buttons of his collar were undone, his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and his shirt hung untucked.

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