Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Game on, motherfucker. Let’s see what you’re up to.
Matt crept around the room fit for a poser who thought he was royalty, shaking his head. Bougie, hand-scraped concrete floors were covered by geometric rugs and a pair of contemporary gray chairs. Beyond that, a platform held Prince Todd’s plush bed like it was a fucking throne. Twelve horizontal feet of sleek electric fireplace had been built into the wall under the edge of the dais, flanked by actual stairs, as if his bed was on a goddamn stage with lights.
He climbed up to reach the bedside, where he could view the gigantic big screen mounted to the ceiling and grab the laptop sitting forgotten on the nightstand, all gleaming, shiny, and silver. Cautiously, Matt lifted the lid, standing beyond the built-in camera’s range, just in case. But the computer was completely out of battery. Dead end…at least for now.
With a sigh, he shut the lid and set down the laptop, then searched the rest of his space. Nothing in the nightstand drawers. Ditto the dresser on the far side of the room.
Loping down the stairs, Matt made his way to the other end of the suite, pushing into the douche’s bath. Son of a bitch. This asshole clearly thought he was fucking special. Gray slate covered the floors and walls of the gigantic room. An antique black dresser had been converted to a vanity with contemporary square sinks and Carrara marble counters, accented by sleek black fixtures. But it was the enclosed shower room with freestanding tub—bigger than Matt’s entire bedroom back home—that made him roll his eyes.
A quick search of the wet area turned up nothing, so he moved to Todd’s closet beyond.
Was this fucker kidding? The place where Madison’s husband kept his clothes was as big as Matt’s kitchen and living room put together. He had a giant circular skylight that illuminated double racks of clothes on both sides of the closet, along with a pair of built-in dressers, a shoe tree, a special drawer for jewelry, and a fucking briefcase holder that doubled as a cocktail table. Even the plush ottoman in the middle of the roomy space had a stylish cashmere blanket thrown over its tufted surface.
Matt just shook his head. Todd Pershing might be wealthy as hell, but none of these trappings had bought him happiness.
Quickly, Matt rifled through all his drawers, shoved his hands in random pockets, and even looked in some of the guy’s size nine narrow shoes. Nothing.
Bullshit. There was something here. The hair on the back of Matt’s neck stood on end. Todd had locked this whole suite and had told Madison to keep the fuck out for a reason.
Matt examined the space with a fresh eye. If this area was his, where would he hide something?
Someplace obscure. Not in plain sight. Where most people would never think to look. The most inconspicuous, innocuous place he could imagine.
Calculating his options, he began searching the suite again, starting at the balcony door and working his way back across every nook, cranny, and crevice. He’d circled back to the closet again when he dropped to the floor, lifted the ottoman, swept the area rug aside, and…bingo! A storage compartment in the floor.
The only problem? It didn’t have a normal key because it wasn’t a normal lock. This resembled a divot in the door, as if it would only open with a particular item hitting the pressure point just right.
What the fuck could that be? Something small. Something hard. A metal sturdier than, say, gold.
Matt did another sweep of the closet, bathroom, and bedroom. Nothing.
Whatever opened that compartment wasn’t here. So where the fuck did Todd keep it?
Suddenly, a loud click pierced the quiet. Matt froze. The slam of a door followed by a man’s grumble. “Fuck. I smell like goddamn beer. Clumsy cunt.”
Todd Pershing.
Matt’s heart raced. In the shadowy closet, he glanced at his phone. Not even midnight, and the douchecanoe was already back? How the hell was he supposed to get out of this room without tipping off Toddhole?
With a giant sigh, Madison’s husband stomped into the bathroom and flipped on the light. Less than six feet and a single slab of wood separated them. Matt melted behind the door of the closet, into a corner.
“Uuuuugh,” Todd groaned out as he flipped up the toilet lid and started to urinate. “Good piss.”
He slurred like he was drunk. Helpful, but if the asshole was sober enough to aim into the toilet bowl, he was sober enough to remember an intruder in his room.
The stream of urine stopped. The sound of the flushing toilet filled the space. Todd flipped on the shower, then silence fell. A million thoughts streaked through Matt’s head at once as he righted the closet and slinked behind the door, crouching between the bastard’s expensive AF suits. He had to hope like fuck that he could sneak past a naked Todd in his shower palace and make it to the balcony again before he was spotted.