Page 49 of Hide and Keep

That has my gaze rising.

“Shouldn’tIbe the one to install it?”

Neither man responds, making my blood boil. Is it because they think I can’t manage such a task or because they don’t trust me to be the only one with keys to it? After all, it ismyprivate sanctuary.

Crue gets between me and Edwin, telling the valet, “I’ll personally take care of the lock,” before ushering me over to the room next to mine. “If you don’t mind, I’d like Miss Munreaux to show me my accommodations this time. Make sure there aren’t any surprises waiting inside for me.”

He was just calling me Ever last night. I hadn’t even realized how much I liked him using my name until he stopped.

“How could I leave any surprises if I didn’t even know this would be your room?”

I’m shoved inside without an answer.

Crue closes the door on Edwin still standing in the hallway, staring after us but doing nothing to stop this.Thanks for the help.

“Pull back the comforter.”

With his focus solely on the bed, I check the spot beside the headboard. Not finding any noticeable seams, I sigh in relief.

“There aren’t any mousetraps under it.”

“Show me.”

I cross my arms over my chest.

When I don’t make a single move, he finally looks at me. I keep my eyes locked on his and lift a brow.

“Does your dad call you Never because you never do what he asks?”

The arrow slices through me, making my shoulders curve inward. I quickly drop my arms to my sides.

“You didn’t ask anything,murderer.” And neither does my father. It’s all commands, all the time.

Two large hands grip my shoulders, then I’m sailing through the air. I land on the mattress with a hard bounce.

He threw me on the bed. Without knowing for certain if it was covered in mousetraps. What a dick.

“What the fuck?” I screech as I scramble up to sitting. “My outfit—”

“Is fine. Everything except your skirt.”

When I turn a glare on my bodyguard, his face is hard as marble.

“What’s wrong with my skirt?”

“It’s too short.”

“Long enough to conceal this.” I pull a middle finger out from under it.

Ignoring me, he says, “Now check the dresser.”

“Check it yourself.” It’s not like he can throw me on it.

But he does drag me by my elbow over to it, which I do not appreciate one bit.

I yank each drawer open with way more aggression than necessary, then go over and open the closet before he can drag me there, too. I even walk inside it and wave my arms around, proving there’s nothing in it.

“See? I told you.”

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