Page 19 of Daddy's Naughty Realtor

"You don't have to?—"

"I’m going to drive you, kitten," he says in a stern, no nonsense voice, and disappears into his closet.

True to his word, he's dressed and ready in minutes, keys in hand. The drive to the Richardson estate is tense, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. My reputation, my career, my professional standing could all be potentially damaged if I made a careless mistake.

When we arrive, the scene is worse than I imagined. Police cars, crime scene tape, my white-faced assistant pacing the driveway.

"Gina, thank god," Gloria says when I approach. "The police have been asking questions. They want to know who had access and when it was last checked..."

"I'll handle it," I assure her, though my stomach is in knots. "What happened, exactly?"

As she fills me in, the pit in my stomach grows. Someone used the code to disable the security system. The back door had been unlocked. Nothing was broken. No windows, no forceful entry. Whoever did this had access.

When the detective approaches, his questions confirm my worst fears.

"You were the last person in the property yesterday, correct?"

I nod, my mouth dry. "Around noon."

"And you're certain you set the alarm and locked all doors before leaving?"

Am I certain? I always do. It's routine. But yesterday... yesterday, I'd been distracted. A text from Jeremy about our walk-through. Plans for after. I remember rushing, thinking about him, about us…

"I..." I hesitate, and that's enough.

The detective's expression hardens slightly. "Ms. Long, in properties of this value, security protocols are essential. If negligence can be established?—"

"She wasn't negligent," Jeremy interrupts, stepping forward. He rests one hand on the small of my back, reassuring. I hadn't even realized he'd followed me from the car. "I was with Ms. Long after she left this property yesterday. She specifically mentioned setting the alarm. I remember because she made a comment about the artwork's value."

It's a lie. A smooth, confident lie delivered with such conviction that even I almost believe it. I’m concerned with how easy it falls from his lips. Appreciative, but concerned.

The detective looks between us, then makes a note in his pad. "I'll need formal statements from both of you. And Ms. Long, the owners will want to speak with you directly."

After he walks away, I turn to Jeremy. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did." His eyes are serious. "This wasn't your fault, Gina. Someone clearly gained access after you left."

But what if it was my fault? What if I did forget, distracted by thoughts of him? The implications are too awful to contemplate. Not only on my wallet, I don’t even want to think what the insurance deductible would be, but also for my reputation, my career.

"I need to stay here," I say. "Deal with this."

Jeremy nods, understanding. "Call me when you're done. I'll come get you."

As he turns to leave, he brushes a kiss against my temple. It’s a gesture of support, of solidarity. It should comfort me. Instead, it leaves me cold.

Because if I did make a mistake, it was because of him. Because he's distracting me, clouding my judgment, making me careless. There’s a reason I’ve been closed off all these years. A reason I don’t get involved. My career is what is important to me. Relationships are a distraction.

And that's something I can't afford to be.

CHAPTER8

The break-in aftermath consumes the next three days. Police statements. Insurance adjusters. Furious clients. My reputation hangs by a thread, saved only by the security company confirming that the alarm was indeed set after my departure, but deactivated hours later with the correct code.

Someone had the code.

Someone who shouldn't have.

Jeremy calls. Texts. Stops by my office with coffee and concern. I accept the coffee and deflect the concern, keeping our interactions brief, professional. I act as if I hadn’t had the best sex of my life. Like the connection between us wasn’t there. Because, I’ve never had anything like this happen in my career until I let myself be distracted.

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