Page 232 of Ruin Me Gently

Know you’re busy, but can you just say something? Anything?

That last text hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.

I hadn’t ignored her. I hadn’t even seen them. Hours ago, she’d been waiting for me to say something, and I didn’t even realise.

Guilt curled hot and sharp in my veins.

I meant to check in. I’d thought about it at lunch. But then something else had pulled me in, another search, another step closer to ending this whole damn thing, and I just… forgot.

I powered down the monitors, shoved my files into my bag and grabbed my coat. Enough for tonight. I needed to go home.

Streaks of neon and silver lights blurred past me as I weaved through the nearly empty city streets, fingers tightening on the wheel.

Was she already asleep? She probably was. She should’ve been.

Fuck, I missed her.

Once Clark was gone, once the asshole was buried six feet under or locked behind a steel door, we wouldn’t have to miss each other. Everything would be fine,wewould be fine.

It was just past 1a.m. by the time the soft chime of the elevator echoed into the penthouse.

Gesù Cristo.

I took a step forward, eyes locking onto the disaster zone that used to be my kitchen. The island alone looked like a last meal crime scene.

Half-empty containers of spaghetti, a nearly demolished lasagna, an entire loaf of bread savagely torn apart by hand, a container of tiramisu with a single bite taken out of it, parmesan cheese dusted across the counter, a bottle of olive oil lay on its side, the cap missing.

The soft hum of a saxophone drifted through the speakers, smooth and expensive, like I’d just walked into a high-end steakhouse.

Jazz.

Lilith doesn’t listen to jazz.

I just stood there for a second, frozen, processing.

Then my eyes caught movement on the floor.

The Roomba.

It whirred softly as it bumped into the counter, wearing a baseball cap.

No. Wearingmybaseball cap.

My jaw tightened as I crouched down, reaching for the tiny, crumpled piece of paper stuck to the top.

‘Corporate Executive in Training.’

What the hell had happened in my penthouse?

I exhaled slowly, pushing to my feet, when a soft sound had me turning my head toward the living area. My gaze landed on the couch. On Lilith. She was flat out, curled up, completely dead to the world. Her dark hair spilled over the cushions, legs tucked up, one arm draped lazily over her stomach. But my brows furrowed as I processed what I was actually looking at.

Shirt. Tie. Trousers. Jacket.

Was she wearing one of my suits?

The tie was loosened around her neck, the collar popped slightly. The trousers were way too long, the waistband rolled over twice, probably so she wouldn’t trip over them.

One part of me wanted to laugh. The other part of me was plain confused.

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