Definitely footsteps.
“Shit,” I whisper, putting the folder back. I look around desperately for a place to hide and end up scurrying over to the closet. Lucky me, it’s decently big and mostly empty.
The office door creaks open.
I risk peeking through the slit in the folding doors. It’s definitely Alexan. He shuffles over to where I was just sitting and frowns down at his desk. My chest is hammering, and my guts are filled with fluttering nerves, but he only stares and stares until he turns like he’s going to head back to bed.
Relief floods me.
Until he hesitates, looks back, and touches the chair.
“Still warm,” he murmurs.
Shit. Shit!How the hell did he think of that?
Fear lances into me. I don’t know what Alexan will do if he catches me. He’s never been violent with me, but there’s a dark streak in him, and he did make it clear that he didn’t want me in here. Obviously, that meant less than nothing, but still. He might be pretty pissed.
He looks around the room, a smile on his lips.
“I know you’re in here,” he says. He doesn’t move, clearly waiting for me to come out.
Screw that.
“There’s no reason to keep hiding, little thief. You can’t help yourself, can you? That locked door is like your drug. I should’ve known better.” He listens carefully, head cocked to the side.
I take tiny, silent breaths, just like my brother taught me.
“Alright, if that’s how you want to play it.” He grabs the dossier and tucks it under his arm. “I’ll put this somewhere you won’t find it. Next time, respect my privacy.”
Then he’s gone. He moves out of my line of sight. I can’t see him through the slit, even when I move. I wait a few beats and start thinking that maybe I got away with it. I can sneak downstairs, pretend like I went for a walk or something?—
The door rips open.
I yelp, throwing myself backward, and my head bashes against the wall.
Chapter21
Riley
“You’re sure you’re okay?” He frowns at me as he hands over the ice pack.
“I’m fine. Honestly, just embarrassed.” I press the ice to the back of my head. There’s a little bump forming. I feel like a total moron for reacting that way, but I hit my head hard enough to make me almost pass out. He had to catch me to keep me from falling over, and he carried me right down to the kitchen.
He studies me, lips pressed together. The folder is on the counter between us. I try thinking up some excuses, but I’m still a little muddled from banging my skull.
“Then we should talk about boundaries.”
I smile sheepishly. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“That lock you picked.” His eyebrows raised slightly. “That was a good lock.”
I snort and shake my head. “Maybe ten years ago. The Primus is way out of fashion now. It’s got some good defenses against key copying, but it’s way too pickable.”
“How long did it take you?”
“Five minutes? Ten at most.”
He grunts and crosses his arms. “That’s slightly impressive.”