Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
With that, I slip down the second floor hallway towards the master suite, and then stop silently outside Mr. Landry’s room. Of course, he’s not home so there’s no sound. As a result, I turn the doorknob without hesitation before peering inside. I’ve never even seen the interior of his bedroom before, but it’s pretty much as I envisioned. The space is huge and done up in a masculine fashion. There’s an enormous king-size pushed up against the wall with dark blue sheets, as well as a giant armoire of some type, and a sofa with a matching ottoman by the window. There’s one painting of a landscape on the wall, but not much else. Evidently Mr. Landry likes his décor spare.
Emboldened, I step into the room, and look around. Where would be a good place to stash the camera? I make my way to the bay window opposite the bed, but when I place the camera on the seat of the window, my nose wrinkles. No, this isn’t going to do because it’s much too obvious. I could edge the camera between the cushion and the window itself, but the cushion is the puffy type that bulges a bit. Then, the lens of the camera will be blocked, completely defeating the purpose of my foray. Drat.
Next, I walk to the armoire, frowning. Again, the same problem abounds. The heavy tabletop gleams of polished oak, which makes for a beautiful flat surface, but where the hell am I going to hide this thing? The camera’s only half an inch in diameter, but still, the armoire is totally free and clear of any knickknacks or decoration. There’s simply no place to tuck it away.
I curse under my breath. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten this particular model of spy cam. There were some models that came with nifty attachments so that you could stick them to the underside of a table, or even in a door jamb, provided that no one actually uses the door. But I’m in a pickle at the moment because one, I don’t have that attachment, and two, even if I did, there’s no table that I could attach it to. What the hell! Who knew being a spy could be so tricky? Not only that, but why is Mr. Landry so goddamn neat? It’s really messing up my game.
I drift around his bedroom a bit more, trying to scope out this angle or that, but finally I give up and take a seat on his bed. My shoulders slump with defeat because this is so frustrating! I actually went to the trouble of buying a spy cam, only to be thwarted by the fact that there’s nowhere to put it. Who would have guessed?
But as I sit on the bed, something in the adjoining bathroom moves and I startle silently. What the hell was that? I’m sure it was just a bird outside whose flutter of wings was caught in the bathroom mirror. Yet I go completely still and silent, my heart beginning to race as dread fills my veins because something tells me it wasn’t a bird. Sure enough, to my horror, who but Mr. Landry appears in the mirror. Even worse, he’s looking straight at me, those blue eyes piercing. Oh no! I’ve been caught red-handed and now, the shit is hitting the fan.
CHAPTER 5
Brad
What the fuck is wrong with me? I was just getting into my town car for a night out, when I realized that I forgot my phone. Goddamnit. I suppose it happens to the best of us, and with a snarl, I turned around to head back into the townhouse.
My mood is sour because I don’t really want to see Gigi Carrera tonight. She’s a blonde I’ve hooked up with a couple times over the last few months, and it’s not that she’s terrible. Quite the opposite. Many men would give their right arms to be seen with Gigi, seeing that she’s an up-and-coming model who’s done campaigns for a bunch of different European fashion houses. It’s just that she’s not my type.
For one, I’m not really into women who are six feet tall, with the body of coat hangers. I understand that it means that clothes look good on them, and that they get paid exactly because they have these proportions, but it’s not really me. Instead, I prefer them about five two and curvy, if possible. Fuck me. How did my life come to this?
With a snarl, I unlock the front door, letting myself into the foyer of the townhouse. I’m just about to call out to Pais and Tatum, when I hear the girls giggling in the kitchen together. I stop short because I know my daughter. When she’s eating, it’s best not to distract Tatum because then she stops, and it can take quite an effort to get food in her mouth again.