Page 97 of Brassy Bigwig

“I got a package today, too. Same as you, only it’s a video of you guys, and my letter says, ‘Break them up or this gets leaked.’ ”

* * *

For the thousandth time, I press play on the video Shelby received last night. I sent Ivan to Shelby’s apartment to retrieve it as soon as she called us. Chloe hasn’t been able to eat anything today, she’s so upset. As soon as we finished watching it for the first time last night, she ran into the bathroom and got sick.

If I wasn’t so irate from that motherfucker getting a peek in to our private life, I think I’d be turned on. The video is like a highlight reel of some of our most intimate moments since the cameras were installed, ending with the way Chloe was sprawled out on the dining room table waiting for me the first night she moved in.

I shift in my seat to take some pressure off of my hardening cock and chide myself for being such a dirtbag. I shouldn’t get any pleasure out of this. It’s despicable and such a gross violation of our privacy.

Just then my cell phone rings, bringing me back to the present. My own stomach churns this time, thinking it’s Emilia. She texted me earlier, letting me know she got reservations at Boku—some swanky sushi restaurant—and reminded me not to be late picking her up. I don’t intend to.

Well, Ivan won’t be late anyway.

I’m sending him to pick her up while I take a cab. I want to limit the amount of time we’re together, and I especially don’t want to spend any of it in close quarters with her.

But she isn’t the one calling me. It’s the security desk from downstairs. I asked them to pull the footage from the penthouse lobby from the last week and check to see if there are any suspicious people who could have gotten past all of the security measures to get up here.

“Dimitrios Andino.”

“Mr. Andino, it’s Clint from the desk downstairs.”

“Clint, hi. What did you find?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. Only you and Ms. Gainesworth. And another couple who I’ve cross-checked with the guest logs, a Ms. Shelby Wyatt and Mr. Reed Watkins. In addition to the four of you, I only saw owners and approved guests from Penthouse B.”

How the fuck was he able to get on to our network without being within range of the Wi-Fi?.

Then an idea occurs to me. The range of a Wi-Fi signal doesn’t stop just outside of someone’s door. He could have gotten access from one of the floors beneath us.

“Can you check the hallway footage from floors sixty and up? Again, we’re looking for a loiterer. Someone who you don’t recognize. He could be in one of the common sitting areas, or he could be camped out in a dark corner. Check everywhere.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Andino. I’ll review the footage as quickly as possible, but it will probably take me a week or two to get through all of it.”

“That’s okay, just let me know what you find out. Thanks, Clint. I owe you one.”

Tossing my phone back down on the desk in my study, my fingertips find my temples and rub gentle circles over them in an effort to relieve the tension building in my head.

“D, I appreciate everything you’re doing, but is it really important that we find him on tape in our building? That’s not going to stop the letters from coming.”

I look up to find Chloe leaning against the doorframe. I nod my head for her to come closer.

“I know, but if we have that footage, at least we can use it to help our case against him. Remember, Officer Huntington said the letters and messages aren’t enough to go after him. We need visual proof Blake is the one behind all of this.”

Chloe nods her head in agreement as she leans against my desk.

“Is your stomach any better now than it was earlier?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll go make you some soup. I think I have some in the cabinet.”

“Thanks, but what are you going to eat for dinner?”

Anxiety nearly cripples me upon hearing her question. I haven’t told her I have a meeting tonight, yet. I don’t want to lie to her, but I remind myself I will come clean about everything once I can confirm Emilia is gone and not a threat.

“Actually, I have a last-minute dinner meeting tonight.”

“With a client?”

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