Page 64 of Keep Him Like Secrets

She didn’t even try to go find it as she rushed through the living area, pulling to an abrupt stop when she spotted me.

“Oh.” She looked disappointed, likely thinking I’d already headed to the office, so she could sneak out without a confrontation. “Morning,” she mumbled, dropping her mug on the island as far away from me as possible, then rushing toward the elevator without another word.

Maybe I was supposed to call her back, to follow her out.

I got the feeling, though, that Saff was a bit like a feral dog. Not unlovable, just skittish, distrustful. And someone had made her that way.

So maybe the best way to handle her was to keep offering affection. Until, slowly, little by little, she came to seek it out herself.

She rushed inside the elevator, keeping her head down. But she couldn’t leave without one more look. As the doors slid closed, her gaze lifted, found mine, held.

Then she was gone.

I stood there for a long moment, my mind reeling.

Then I reached for my phone, shooting off a text to Teresa.

Change of plans. Not coming in today.

By the time I finished washing out our mugs, my phone was dinging.

Just remember: condoms are cheaper than child support and antibiotics.

I laughed before making my way back upstairs, changing out of my suit and into a pair of sports pants and a t-shirt, wanting to be able to blend in.

Because I was heading my ass out to Brooklyn again.

Not to check on the club.

To see what, if anything, I could find out about Saff.

I might not know a whole lot about her—yet—but I did know where she liked to get her coffee. And that she had a pretty heavy reading habit.

There had to be people in the local coffee shop or bookstore that could tell me something about her.

With that in mind, I called Calvin, then caught up on some work emails on the ride toward Saff’s neck of the woods.

“If you could,” I said as I climbed out of the car an hour later, “don’t park anywhere near the club.”

“Got it,” Calvin said. I had to admit, his dedication to never asking questions was pretty damn refreshing. Especially when I was about to do something that was a little bit shady.

Borderline stalk not only my business partner, but the woman I was sleeping with.

Desperate times, and all that.

My gaze scanned the street, looking for any signs of blue hair before making my way toward the coffee shop.

It was the kind of place with cement floors and black accents. A little cold. Sterile. Nothing that invited you to stick around.

I guess I could see it being Saff’s favorite place to grab a cup on the go.

I made my way up to the line, ordered a coffee, then asked the barista if she knew a blue-haired woman named Saff.

Before she could even answer, though, some guy behind me in line spoke up. “My advice? Stay away. Stay far the fuck away, man.”

Turning, I saw a short guy who was a bit round in the middle, sporting a nasty black eye and busted lip.

“Why’s that?”

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