Page 3 of The Wife Situation

“So, what makes Mr. Calloway so special?” I glance at her.

“Oh, he’s drop-dead gorgeous. Totalasshole. Serial dater. Hateseveryone. Never smiles.”

I turn to her.

“But you didn’t ask that. He’s a nepo baby. Billionaire, generational wealth out the ass. His family owns diamond mines and jewelry stores.”

“Impressive,” I say, rolling my eyes.

We arrive at the dark oak doorway that towers over us. The anticipation nearly takes over as I slide my key card across the scanner and push open the heavy door.

The place smells like lavender and luxury with fresh, colorful flowers in vases on every flat surface. The sun shines through the windows. The only thing that would make it better was if it were closer to Central Park.

“Can you imagine staying here?” Carlee asks.

“No,” I tell her with a laugh. “It’s beautiful but a waste of money.”

“But if you’ve got it to spend, why the hell not?” She looks up at the tall ceiling.

When high-profile clients rent the Penthouse, immaculacy is required. If anything is out of place, it could hurt the W’s prestige. The customer is always right because most have enough liquid assets to buy the business outright.

Carlee follows behind me, and when her cell buzzes in her pocket, she stops walking.

“I gotta take this,” she says.

If I had to guess by her tone shift, I’d say it’s the bartender she called it off with last weekend.

“No personal phone calls,” I say, mocking our boss’s voice.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll check the kitchen and dining room while I chat. Focus on flecks of dust or fingerprints on the windows and mirrors. That’s what Mr. Calloway complained about previously.”

“I’ll start on the top floor and meet you back here.” I keep my tone low.

She quickly answers, her voice rising an octave, like she’s surprised. Her shift is supposed to end in thirty minutes, and it makes me wonder if she’s staying over to avoid him. With her, it’s about the chase. She collects men like Pokémon, but once they’re captured and they say I love you, she’s over it. It’s a part of her relationship cycle. This guy lasted three weeks.

She walks toward the dining room, throwing a cleaning cloth over her shoulder.

I take the stairs to the top floor, my hand gliding over the smooth railing. On one side of the area is a gigantic bedroom surrounded by windows, and across the hall is the bathroom. I take in the gorgeous room that looks like it fell straight out of a magazine. The vase of flowers isn’t quite centered, so I move it over one inch.

The king-size bed overlooks the city, and I can almost imagine rolling around in the silk sheets. When I turn my head, I see the comforter is wrinkled on the edge, so I slide my hand against the material, pulling it tight, and tuck the corner. My eyes land on the gold watch on the table.

I breathe in and pick it up, studying it. In the middle, where the big and small hands connect, there is a symbol, but I don’t recognize it. I flip it, and on the back, there’s something engraved.

I tilt it, allowing it to shine in the sunlight, and read the words,LOVE IS ALWAYS ON TIME.

It’s a nice thought, but also cheesy.Love.Pfft.

An heiress previously occupied this room, so it could belong to her husband … orlover. I smirk, dropping it into the front pocket of my apron to take it to my manager when we finish our final walk-through.

I check each window from different angles, ensuring there are no fingerprints or smudges. After moving to the bathroom, I push open the door. I immediately stop breathing.

The shower is running, and at first, I think Carlee’s pranking me, but then I notice a man with thick, messy, dark hair standing under the waterfall stream. Muscles cascade down his tattooed back and arms. A strangled breath releases from me as the water falls over his carved body. This is beautiful torture and will probably haunt my fantasies until the end of time.

When he reaches for the soap, I stumble back and quietly slip out of the bathroom. I take the stairs as fast as I can without falling, which is a miracle because I’m clumsy when I’m nervous.

My thoughts are a discombobulated mess, a ball of yarn tangled together, and all I can think is,We have to leaveright fucking now.

I stalk through the living room and find Carlee sitting on the dining room table, swinging her legs, laughing. I grab the phone from her hand, end the call, then yank her up. She snatches the cleaning supplies as I pull her toward the door.

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