Page 12 of Gluttony
“Alright,” she said, waving him out. “Let’s go.”
His lips twitched. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
She shot him an apathetic stare. A thrill tripped in his stomach.
“Which room is yours?” she asked and then checked her watch as though she had somewhere better to be.
“On the left.”
He followed her down the hall. There were only two doors. The one on the right belonged to Griffin and Lilo. Each apartment was penthouse sized and took up one half of the building. Of course, the top floor was the real penthouse. That belonged to his eldest sibling, Parker, and spanned the entire expanse of the building, complete with a pool and jacuzzi on his balcony.
Bailey held out her palm. “Keys.”
Don’t think so.He ignored her and wrapped his hand around the knob.
“Stop,” she snapped.
“Christ. I can open my own door.”
“It’s unlocked?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She waved him aside. “Let me go in first.”
“This is private property. No one gets in but the family. And maybe the cleaner, but she’s had a background check.” A very extensive check. Plus she was paid handsomely for her exclusivity and silence.
Her black brow arched indignantly. “I go in first.”
He took a step back, palms up.
“Wait here.” She unclipped her firearm and released it from the holster. Then she nudged the door open and proceeded with caution.
Tony waited in the hallway, hands in pockets, leaning his head against the wall. This bodyguard schtick was getting old. With nothing to do but wait, he focused on Griffin’s door and pushed out his sixth sense to feel for the sin of gluttony. Nothing. Didn’t mean there was no one home, but most likely the happily married couple were still at work. They were both workaholics.
His neck itched. Come to think of it, his chest itched too. The fake blood had caked on his skin. Normally he’d be out of makeup by now. He sniffed under his arm and jerked back. Yep. Shower needed pronto.
“Clear,” came Bailey’s voice from inside his place.
Perfect timing. He dragged his shirt over his head and entered his apartment. The decor was slick designer chic. White tiles contrasted with granite features. Potted plants were placed at random intervals around the space, including a daisy bush near the balcony he used more than the open-plan kitchen. An acoustic guitar leaned against the wall in the living room. But the pièce de résistance was the theater room—two level cinema seating, sunken floor, wall to wall projector screen, and a surround sound system. When they’d built the building years ago, he’d knocked out the spare bedroom to make the theater bigger.
Shower.
Right. He scrunched up his shirt and then popped the top button on his jeans as he toed off his boots. He almost got to his bedroom door before he heard her.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked.
He pivoted, a slow smile forming on his lips. Bailey was near the kitchen, a hip leaning on the bench, head cocked, lips pursed, and eyes wary of his naked chest.
“Taking a shower. Want to join?”
There went those brows again, but she didn’t speak.
“Didn’t think so,” he added and then gestured into his room. “I stink. I itch. And I need to be at this party soon.”
She cleared her throat. “Um. What time?”
“About an hour.”
