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Svea picks up almost immediately. “Rook Thorsen’s office.”
Surprised to hear her voice, I clear my throat. “Hi, Svea. It’s Carrie Gilbert.”
“Carrie.” Her tone softens. “How are you? How’s Abby? I can’t wait for her to get back from her honeymoon.”
“I’m good,” I say slowly, giving myself time to come up with a reason why I would be calling Rook. “Abby’s great. I’m excited for her to come home, too.”
“Are you calling about the mural?” She jumps straight into an assumption that works in my favor. “Posey showed me a few pictures she took of it, and all I can say is wow.”
“It’s even more breathtaking in person,” I tell her.
“When she was in earlier, she said it’s complete.” She pauses before she goes on, “I know she was looking for Rook to tell him that in person, and I assume you’re trying to get word to him about that, too.”
“Yes,” I lie. “I’ve tried texting him a couple of times. Do you know how I can reach him?”
“You can’t,” she says succinctly. “He’s been out of the office with a very important client for most of the afternoon. She had some pressing issues and needed Rook to take care of them with her, so I assume his phone is set to silent. I have a number I can reach him at, but he was clear that I’m only to use it if it’s regarding his daughter.”
“Of course,” I say, relieved that there’s a plausible explanation for Rook not answering my texts.
“He said I should expect to hear from him around seven for any updates.” She clicks her tongue. “I’ll let him know then that you called.”
“That’s not necessary.” I shake my head even though I know she can’t see me. “I’m sure Posey will tell him about the mural.”
“She’s so excited that she definitely will.” She laughs. “Have a good night, Carrie.”
I wish her the same as I end the call.
Glancing at the bank of elevators, I smile. “I’m about to have a very good night.”
I type out one last text message and press send before I stand.
Carrie: I’m on my way up to the suite now. I can’t wait to see you.
Pressing a hand to my stomach, I say a small prayer, hoping that my lunch will stay put.
I’m not only nauseous, but I’m lightheaded, too.
I reach out a hand to grab hold of the foyer table in the hotel suite, but all that does is lure my gaze to the small decorative bowl that sits atop it.
Placed neatly in there is a pair of silver cufflinks and a watch.
It’s an Abdons watch, and I’ve seen it wrapped around Rook’s wrist many times.
“God! You know how to fuck!” A woman’s voice sounds through the suite from the partially ajar bedroom door.
A series of deep grunts follows that, along with a chorus of moans coming from the woman currently getting screwed in what I assume is the bed, judging by the sound of the rhythmic pounding of the headboard into the wall.
“Every woman wants to be fucked just like this!” she squeals.
I pick up the watch and hold it in my hand. I know it’s expensive. I’m tempted to smash it against the floor.
I thought I was Rook’s only lover, but that was foolish.
Why would I be?
We never discussed being exclusive. The agreement was to sleep together a few times, then part ways.
At no time did we talk about other people.
