Page 27 of Stealing Blinds

As mortified as I am that anyone has details of what that asshole did, Peter giving me time to heal is almost sweet. I only ever knew him through Danny. It was always apparent that he was interested, which honestly made him creepy since I was engaged, but maybe it was because he wasn’t as fooled by Danny’s doting-fiancé facade as I was.

“You mean your buddy,” Cash sneers, messing with more books, which has Peter seething, “who you invited to be at the same party as her?”

That’s a fair point, and it’s my cue to flee. But there is a three-foot opening in which I won’t be covered. I don’t know if I can chance it.

“It’s complicated,” Peter argues, moving to what I believe is a humidor, his back to me. “And he’s one of your members too.”

Cash lobs a terse glance over his shoulder, signaling me to bolt, before he examines the cigars with Peter.

I suppose this is a now-or-never moment. Staying low, I swiftly skitter behind the couch on the balls of my feet, across the three feet of space, and through the cracked door.

Cash’s reply guides every step. “Being one of my members does not automatically translate to being a goddamn friend.”

“Noted,” Peter deadpans as I stand outside the door, catching my breath, my pulse thrumming frantically in my temples and neck and ribs. “So, let me put this in a way that lacks the decency a friend would extend. Your reputation is shit. The last thing that girl needs is someone fucking with her.”

I should head back to the bathroom, but I can’t help but want to hear the rest of this conversation, so I multitask. I pull out my phone, deciding how to deal with the security camera discrepancy. There has been far too much movement up here for the loop to make sense long term. I can’t risk Peter suspecting that anything was tampered with.

“It’s none of your goddamn business,” Cash roars, “but I haven’t looked at another woman since I laid eyes on Sylvie months ago. So, again, with all due respect, fuck off. She’s here with me.”

My stomach lodges itself at the base of my sternum. That’s just part of the act, I’m sure. Peter was right about Cash’s reputation. I can’t get sucked into believing this is anything. And that is the furthest thing I should be focused on at the moment.

“At my house,” Peter counters, just as two of the wives emerge from the lounge down the hall. “She would have been here with or without you.”

I put my index finger against my lips, and they both freeze.

“That must sting then since she’s going home with me.” Cash’s haughty air sails into the hallway, and both women’s eyes widen.

With so much commotion, it’s only a matter of time before the guards are up here and reporting back to someone who is looking at an empty hallway and office on their security screens.

“Fine.” Peter chuckles without an ounce of humor. “You’ll fuck this up. I don’t know why I’m even bothered. I’ll swoop in when you’re done and have an easier time because I’ll offer her all the things she wants.”

This is why working with someone is so much harder. I can’t just split. I need to get Cash out of here too. But even though I’m in the security system, it’s too robust for me to adequately dismantle it completely from my phone.

“What is it you want with her, Peter?” Cash challenges, and I swear the women’s ears perk up like puppies being offered a treat. “She’s sixteen years younger than you. What do you even have in common?”

Something slides against the wood office floor before Peter’s answer floats out to us, along with the rich, earthy scent of cigar smoke. “Sixteen years younger trumps commonalities. Your revolving arm candy sells your worth. It’s a sign to your members that they can have a free life with all the lovely perks. For me, it’s the opposite. I need to show stability while also making my business partners raving jealous.”

“So, you want her as a prop?”

One of the women scrunches her lips and shrugs, as if to say, Don’t they all?

What a horribly low bar.

Cash doesn’t stop there. “Sylvie is not the kind of woman you ask to be quiet and look pretty. She’s phenomenal at every-goddamn-thing she does.”

I’ve heard enough, and I need to get the hell out of here, so while Peter utters his pathetic reasoning, I smooth out my hair and prepare to crash their private party.

“Don’t act all high and mighty with me. You only want between her legs, and I can give her—”

The intentionally loud clip-clop-clip of my heels has their conversation halting before I knock on the still-open door and peek my head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I heard your voices. Peter, I apologize, but I had more champagne than I generally indulge in, and I’m afraid it’s upset my stomach. Would you mind terribly if Cash and I called it a night?”

Peter’s face pales because he’s aware that I heard something. “If you don’t feel well, you’re welcome to stay in a guest room. My staff will take excellent care of—”

Everything stills. We’re cloaked in darkness. The music from downstairs is replaced by a chorus of gasps and shrieks. The women who were in the hall duck back into the lounge.

Guards shout and rush up the curved staircase.

A power outage. Or some sort of attack.