Page 47 of Beautiful Liar

“How are you doing this…I mean, how did you know I was up?”

“I have a state of the art security system that alerts me when there’s movement in the property at odd hours. It’s three in the morning. You should be asleep. My system thinks you’re an intruder. I wanted to verify that you were not.” His voice flows all around me.

I take a couple of steps back and reclaim my sandwich. The explanation is reasonable. But I’m still a little creeped out, if a lot relieved. My gaze darts around.

“What about cameras? Do you have cameras installed in here, too?”

“Only on the outside. I can give you the code to disable both if it would make you more comfortable?”

I take small bite of my food. “Can you not do it remotely?”

“Of course, but I suspect you might not believe me if I said it was done?”

I bend my head to hide my guilty flush, even though he can’t see me. Or at least I hope he can’t.

I swallow before I reply, “That’s okay. If you say it’s done, I believe you.”

“Thank you.”

I take another bite and chew through the silence. “I’m sorry if my moving around woke you.”

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Can I ask what you’re doing awake at 3am?”

“Having a drink. And reviewing your shots.”

A reel of the photo shoot flips through my mind and my body heats up. The thought that he’s staring at those pictures right now makes a part of me tremble, while a definite part throbs. When he remains silent, I’m forced to ask, “And?”

“And I’m very much looking forward to fucking you, Lucky.”

The matter of fact words, spoken softly through a mesh of tech, is hotter than anything I’ve ever heard in my life. My body grows heavy and a little weak, and I’m glad I’m sitting down.

“You…you don’t think I’m too thin?”

“We’re working on that, are we not?”

I laugh and the sound is the most natural I’ve heard in a long time. “Fionnella is definitely single-minded about fattening me up, that’s for sure.”

“She’s following my instructions. I want you healthy and strong. I want you to be able to keep up with me.”

My gaze skids to the far corner of the room where a treadmill and cross-trainer have been set up next to a yoga mat. “Can I use the equipment in here?”

“Everything in the apartment is yours, Lucky. You don’t need to ask permission.”

I pause for a moment and then ask the question that’s been on my mind for a while. “So where will…the gig take place?”

“At another property of mine.”

“So, not the Midtown apartment?”

“No.”

I release a breath tinged with relief. “Okay. That’s good.”

“Why is it good?”

I shrug, feel a tad foolish. “Nothing. It’s no big deal.”

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