Page 50 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

He put down the bags and went to the bed closest to the door, pulling up the mattress, checking in all the crevices. I did the same.

“Okay,” I said, toeing off my shoes, then free-falling back onto the bed by the windows. “I am willing to say I’m wrong when I’m wrong. You were right about the hotel.”

“And you didn’t even see the bathroom yet.”

“Is the shower niche glorious?”

“Four shower heads.”

“I have a single shower head at home that basically trickles water down on my head. Takes me ten minutes to wash shampoo out of my hair.”

“Why do you live there?”

“Fear of change, I guess. Also, can you imagine hauling all those boxes of books?”

“I can. I have,” he admitted.

“Why didn’t you hire someone to do it? You can clearly afford it.”

Gav sat on the side of the bed, shrugging a shoulder at me. “In my line of business, we don’t tend to invite strangers into our lives. I did have some of my soldiers hauling boxes, too.”

“Oh, to have lackeys,” I said, shooting him a smile.

“They come in handy,” he agreed as he got back up to open his bag, pulling out his charger, toiletry bag, an outfit for the night, and his book.

“I hate to say this.”

“But?” he asked, gaze cutting over.

“But I’m kind of hungry.”

“I bet you are,” he agreed. “You had approximately three-thousand empty calories today. You need actual food.”

“It’s not my fault that club had chipotle mayo.”

“Chipotle mayo isn’t spicy.”

“Says someone who doesn’t have to travel with this,” I said, folding up, grabbing my bag and pulling out my kit and unzipping it.

Inside, there were both pill and liquid forms of the pink stuff, fizzy antacids, liquid antacids, and chalky antacids, anti-nausea medicine, and a huge handful of peppermints.

“Christ.”

“I believe you are quite familiar with my sensitive stomach.”

“I thought you just got grossed out easily.”

“Nope. My anxiety likes to keep me awake with a churning stomach and burning throat. So I try not to trigger it with spicy foods.”

“I guess that’s fair then. So, we need to find some non-spicy food around here. Did you come across any restaurants in your search?”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Room service it is,” he said, finding a leather folder on the dresser and tossing it toward me.

“Oh, good. A QR code.”

“Why is that a good thing?”