Page 42 of Dead Serious with Benefits
He stopped. “What would that be?”
“That woman, Olivia,” I broached, wondering if it really was apropos of nothing or if she had been living in the back of my mind since the party and the conversation with him over the phone. “Do you know her last name?”
“Offhand, no,” he said, tilting his head.
“When you find out, could you let me know?”
He stared at me. “Technically, I should mind telling you. You made a valid point that I probably should have told you what I did about her.”
“Of course,” I said quickly, knowing it would be easy to find the information but unsure why I wanted to know in the first place. “Don’t mind me, I’m thinking aloud.”
“Hmm, I can’t see the harm in telling you,” he said, looking at me so thoughtfully I had the urge to squirm.
“That works, I said, quickly changing the topic before he asked questions. “And don’t forget to text me your address.”
“I won’t, “ he said with a small smile. “Take care.”
“Always,” was all I could say as he left the room. I couldn’t hear him moving through the penthouse, but I heard the front door close behind him, leaving me in a cloud of scented soap from the destroyed bottle and the unpleasant, acidic odor of burned plastic from the electrical short.
Which reminded me I needed to text Miles once I had Arlo’s address, and also call Paul, the building manager. He and I already needed to chat about one of the nosier, big-mouthed tenants in the building, and now this shoddy workmanship from a team he had brought in was all the leverage I needed to get what I wanted.
Which might be enough to stop me thinking too hard about being on my knees in front of Arlo, hands gripping his thighs and feeling?—
Well, it would keep me busy for a while anyway.
ARLO
With a sudden hiss, water flowed into the bathroom sink, and I squeezed soap from the dispenser to rinse the sticky hair product from my hands.I preferred a light touch with hair products, but no matter how little I used, it always snuck between my fingers. Yet it was the only product I had found that created a ‘natural’ controlled look and stayed in for hours.
Checking my hair again to ensure it was in place, I turned toward the door where the garment bag that had been dropped off earlier waited. Unzipping it, I looked over the tuxedo. It didn’t look much different than when it had been in Ward’s closet, a closet almost three times the size of my bathroom, but I trusted that it had been altered. Anyone with the confidence to be as ‘unprofessional’ as Miles while being trusted by someone like Ward, who had high standards, was someone I could trust without checking their work.
As I dressed carefully, I wondered what it must be like to have a bathroom that could fit a few people to dress comfortably without fear of bumping into one another. Ward’s bathroom had been painful for me, but that had nothing to do with the size.
In fact, my entire small house, nestled in one of the few quiet neighborhoods in Cresson Point, probably amounted to a third,if not a fourth, of his penthouse. Not that I was self-conscious, I liked my home. The neighborhood was quiet, except for the sounds of kids running around the streets, but that didn’t bother me. Before I’d been adopted by Matilda, the neighborhood I’d lived in had been the sort where if you were small and weak, you made sure to get from A to B as quickly as possible. The sound of children playing, without a care in the world, was a good thing as far as I was concerned.
My home was big enough for me, each room large enough to house my things, and an extra bedroom in case I had guests. I rarely did, except my siblings, Dom in particular. Ever since I bought the house, he had taken to spending what time he had in Cresson Point at the hotel or in my home.
Again, I didn’t mind having company when he didn’t have a match or wasn’t staying at the hotel. Of all my siblings, he was the easiest to cohabitate with. He didn’t stir up trouble as much as Mason, wasn’t asparticularas Moira, or as full of unspent energy as Milo. Eli could have been a good fit, but he had been tied to Milo for as long as we could remember. That was even truer since they were officially a couple.
With everything but the outer parts of the outfit on, I looked myself over and chuckled. It fitted to perfection. Normally, a fitting would require extra work after the first attempt, but Miles was not the sort to need that. I would have to seriously consider looking into his ‘average’ services if they were as reasonable as he and Ward made them out to be. I had never had any outfit fit my body perfectly, being snug in the right places but allowing space to breathe and move comfortably.
I paused, cocking my head and snorting when I heard something shuffle outside. “You’re not quiet enough to be either Rags or Muffin.”
From outside the door, Dom gave a soft snort. “Are you kidding? Muffin makes more noise than me when I stumble in drunk.”
That was true, the fluffy, tawny brown cat looked positively majestic...right up until you saw him try to jump, or do anything most cats with their usual grace could do. Her brother was far quieter, but even he could be pretty heavy-footed when he decided the house was too quiet and he needed to sprint from one end to the other, pausing only to tilt his head back and scream to the heavens before taking off again.
“I’ll be out in a moment,” I told him. “I wasn’t trying to hold it up.”
“Mmm, it’s not an emergency.”
“Ah, then you’re being nosy.”
“Bro, you disappeared yesterday, and today some random girl shows up with a garment bag, and you’ve been in there fussing over yourself more than normal, which is saying something. Damn right I’m being nosy.”
I shook my head. “There are other people in our family who lead far more interesting lives than me; focus on them.”
“Are you kidding? Moira has always been Miss Responsible. Mason is behaving himself for once in his life, God save me, but love actually turned him into an adult. And really? I don’t want to know what Milo and Eli get up to in their alone time anymore. If I want to, I’ll look at the shit they post, at least then I don’t have to picture them...well?—”
