Page 61 of Stepbrothers

“You done?” Parker asked, reappearing.

“Yep.” She fiddled with the zip. It wouldn’t do up. It was stuck.

“Here.” He walked over and within a second had it free. He fastened the zipper and hoisted the bag over his shoulder. “Anything else?”

“Er…?” She glanced around, then grabbed her phone charger and headphones. “I think that’s it.”

“Good. Let’s get out of here.”

Clarice gave the saucepan on her pillow one last look, then feeling suddenly lighter, she headed out of her miserable damp flat.

Thirty minutes later, Clarice was in the most beautiful penthouse apartment she’d ever seen. Located in Battersea, it had floor-to-ceiling windows on the north, east, and west sides, giving sweeping views of the Thames and all the buildings that flanked it.

“Wow,” she said, going to the window in the kitchen side of the open-plan space and staring out at the twinkling lights. She could just make out the London Eye, and in the distance, The Shard. “This is a bit special.”

And must have cost millions.

“I’m glad you like it,” Parker said. “The windows are one way. You can see out but not in. So it’s perfectly private.”

“That’s incredible. It’s all incredible.”

“Thank you.”

She turned. He was still holding her bag as he stood beside a soft, L-shaped sofa that faced a flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. The place was all tan and beige and soft rugs and cushions. A huge glass table with plush chairs was set beside the huge sparkly surfaced island. A few fronded potted plants stood around, tall, limbs outstretched, like dancers waiting to be waltzed. It was minimalist but still welcoming.

“This is Trig’s room.” Parker gestured to a door next to the TV. “I’ll put your bag in here. It has an en suite.”

“Okay, thanks.”

He quickly reappeared. “And this is my room. He pointed to another doorway. “And next to it is Hugh’s. Hugh’s room has another staircase.”

“Which leads where?”

“To the roof terrace. If it wasn’t raining, I’d show you.”

A roof terrace. Of course they had a roof terrace. “I’ll look forward to seeing it another time.” She took a deep breath then yawned.

“You’re tired.”

“It’s been a long day. And I’ve been on my feet most of it.” Her soles were throbbing.

“So go and get ready for bed.” He gestured to a chrome kettle. “I’ll make you an herbal tea.”

“Thank you.”

Parker shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it up beside the main door they’d just come through. Beside it was a picture of a naked woman stepping into a lake, the sky and trees reflecting on the water’s surface.

Did he still want to fuck? He’d been up for it only minutes ago—until the mouse and the leaky roof had interrupted.

She went into Trig’s room, her curiosity suddenly piqued. Would his personal space give her an insight into the brother she hadn’t met? A clue to what he was like? Pieces of a jigsaw she could start to put together?

But no. The gray-and-white room was utilitarian. The shelves empty except for a few books and a dangling spider plant. The bed was neat and smooth, the pillows plump. And in the bathroom, the only personal things were a shower gel and a half-used tube of toothpaste.

She flipped the lid on the shower gel. Smelt it. A familiar soapy pine scent filled her nostrils. “Not even a photograph,” she muttered. “Clearly a man who doesn’t need much in his life.”

She slipped into the pajamas Hugh had bought her and then brushed her hair and cleaned her face with a facial wipe.

“Here,” Parker said, appearing at the door. “It’s chamomile. Is that okay?”

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