Page 31 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
Also, maybe this will loosen you up, gods know you need it
Well, he’d be damned. Even if it wasn’t signed by her, heknewit was Anika’s doing. The letter’s wording reeked of her humor and smugness. The timing of it was too perfect; his refusal of showing her the property himself and Levi swearing he was closing in on the deal at the forefront of his mind.
And Mikko would be lying if he said her words didn’t make him smile.
Maybe itwastime for him to refine his palette—time for him to dip his tongue into something a bit more…fiery.
* **
MIKKO INSERTED HIS key into the lock. His penthouse front door was the last barrier standing in his way to solace after a long day. A weird feeling had been needling him all afternoon ever since Levi had damn near gloated about his time with Anika at the industrial property. It was stupid and silly, and if it were any other client, he wouldn’t care, but this time it irritated him. Turning it, he waited to hear the telltale click of the mechanism springing free, but…
Nothing.
Twisting it again, the sound he was searching for came. That was when he realized his front door was unlocked, and he’d justlockedit.
Fury along with adrenaline bubbled in his veins. After everything, he’d wanted to come home and slip into bed—clothes and shoes still on if he was really lazy, but someone else had a different idea.
Unlocking the door, Mikko quickly pocketed the keys and withdrew the gun he had concealed under his suit jacket. The hall outside his penthouse was empty, only one other person living on this floor. Besides, if anyone saw him, he couldmakethem forget.
Nudging the door open, his eyes caught on the way the light from the hall spilled into the darkness inside. Slipping through the opening once it was large enough for him to pass through, he let the doorsnickshut behind him. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the shadows as his back pressed into the cool surface of the door. If whoever had left his door unlocked was still inside, he’d make them wish they’d left before he got back.
The silhouettes of his furniture sharpened as the seconds passed, softly backlit by the skyline beyond. Light pollution stained the sky a dusty gray with a splash of warmth. Buildings glittered in the floor to ceiling windows lining his residence, and Mikko let them guidehim as he continued on.
This unit had been designed to use as little walls as necessary so the view would be unhindered which also proved advantageous for sightlines. There were only a handful of places to hide since the closets and bathroom were the only rooms to have walls and doors.
Muscle memory steered him around the sharp edges of his kitchen island, charcoal finishes an endless void in the minimal lighting. Before him, his couch cushions littered the floor along with papers that had been pulled out of drawers and left to decorate his space. His furniture had shifted almost infinitesimally, but his keen eyes caught it. Clearing the living room, his dress shoes padded noiselessly across the polished concrete floor and area rug all while missing the mess strewn about.
His night trained eyes snagged on the bathroom door—it was open, its maw yawning wider and beckoning him closer. Gun trained straight ahead, finger hovering over the trigger, Mikko prepared for the worst—a bloodstain on his floors. His penthouse was one place hetriedto keep the violence out. He had expensive furniture to protect after all.
Closing one eye, Mikko stepped into the room, flipping the light switch on quickly to stun anyone who may be lingering. The brightness made his one open eye squint, but he was greeted with nothing. The usual bathroom accessories met his eyes.
Leaving the light on and turning away from the small room, Mikko opened his closed eye. Since that one had maintained its night sight, his other one quickly adjusted back.
Wrapping the corner, colorful city lights illuminated his figure as he crept around his own damn apartment. Around every turn, he found nothing. No one lurked in the deepest shadows for him.
After he cleared his bedroom—finally determining no one was there—he walked around and turned on a few floor lamps. Thewarm glow was harsh, but welcome after the stress of expecting an intruder. It still didn’t erase the violating feeling blossoming in his chest.
Someone had been in here, in my space, and slipped out undetected.
Re-holstering his gun, Mikko strode back to his kitchen. The cool feeling of his glass decanters underneath his fingertips comforting. A portion of his kitchen had been converted to storing liquor, just as one might designate a coffee area. Letting his mood guide him, each bottle more extravagant than the last, he finally settled on a bourbon. A deviation from his usual drink of choice, but he was feeling agitated.
Forgoing ice, Mikko poured two fingers into a crystal tumbler. The color reminded him of Anika’s eyes. His annoyance flare brighter.
The first sip burned.
The second one warmed.
And the third loosened the tension between his shoulder blades.
With his glass hanging from his fingertips precariously, Mikko sat at his desk, content to check his security cameras now that he knew no one was lurking around. His system was robust and nothing would be able to get past his surveillance.
Paranoia had its perks.
After combing through the last couple hours on the digital footage, Mikko deigned no one had been inside his penthouse. Which was impossible. There was physical evidence of someone touching his things, so had they tampered with his security cameras?
Abruptly standing, Mikko shuffled around his residence, searching for anything that could be missing. He was feeling slightly tipsy, the amber hued liquid on an empty stomach making him sloppy as he ran through his mental catalog.
Nothing appeared to be amiss besides the disarray left behind.
