Page 4 of His Toughest Case

“Anything for you, muffin.”

Chapter Three

London

“Figure it out within a month…”

Curt’s words echo in my head as I stir the batter for the pancakes that I'm making for breakfast. I didn’t get a wink of sleep all night; the words kept churning in my head.

I hadn't meant to eavesdrop on Curt and Amelia’s conversation, but I'd been restless after they excused themselves to the study. I'd felt an urgent need to know my fate, and before I could stop myself, I was already in the hallway with my ear plastered to the study door.

Their voices were faint but, I'd heard his declaration loud and clear. Those words especially stood out, cutting through the air like a sharp blade aimed directly at my throat.

I have four weeks to convince my boss that I'm worth having around. I'd do anything to extend my stay; I can't leave… Not in four weeks.

At least, not until that monster is behind bars.

I quickly finish up with the pancakes, scramble some eggs, and make toast, all at a stretch. Then I set the table for one and glance at my watch; it's half past eight. According to the schedule that Amelia gave to me, Curt was supposed to be down for breakfast thirty minutes ago.

I glance towards the stairs, wondering whether I should go up or wait down here. Going up could be overstepping my bounds, while staying down here could mean that I don't know my duties.

I'd rather go with the former.

Forcefully swallowing the gnawing fear in my chest, I make my way up the stairs and to his room. I take a deep breath before rapping my knuckles against the door. There’s no response the first time, so I knock again. And again.

I frown slightly, considering the possible reasons he's not answering the door when I'm certain he's inside. It's a workday, so it doesn't make sense that he's sleeping in. Several dangerous scenarios suddenly flood my head, causing my stomach to knot up with anxiety.

Ignoring the little voice of warning at the back of my head, I push open the door and walk into the large, airy room just as a smaller door inside is being pulled open.

Curt walks out of what looks to be the bathroom, and a strangled gasp escapes my throat.

He's completely naked!

Water drips from his incredibly hot, sculpted body to the ground, pooling at his feet. He's gaping at me, his features frozen in shock. He's clutching a fluffy-looking towel over his crotch.

My eyes have gone wide and it feels like my whole body is on fire from embarrassment. I sputter wordlessly, trying to think above the roar in my head. Despite keeping my gaze fixated on his face, I feel like I've captured his naked image in that one split second – a picture that won't leave my head in a million years.

I must seem like I’m about to faint at any minute, because his features morph from shock to concern. "Are you alright, Amelia?"

The sound of my name jars me out of my daze.

I spin around and dash out of the room as fast as my legs can carry me. I run down the long corridor and the stairs until I get to the kitchen. I slump against the counter, closing my eyes as I struggle to catch my breath. The image of his naked body rises, unbidden, in my head, causing me to snap my eyes open.

I fist my hands against the desire to run out of the house and never return.

I have nowhere to go anyway…

I start to clean the kitchen, wiping every surface over and over again; anything to take my mind off the incident in Curt's room. I’m running a wet rag over the kitchen island for the third time when Curt walks in. My heart slams hard against my chest and settles into a fast-paced, uneven thud. He's fully clothed now, yet all I can see are his ripped muscles, shimmering with droplets of water.

He stops a few feet away from where I'm standing, looking a little ill at ease.

“About that…”

"I didn't see anything!" I say quickly, my voice coming out in an embarrassing shriek. I clear my throat, shifting uncontrollably on my feet. "I mean… I saw, but I… We can pretend I didn't… I swear it wasn't intentional. I just wanted… I'm sorry," I say finally, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from rambling further.

“It's fine, I guess,” he mutters, scratching his head awkwardly.

There's an unusual timidity about him, one that reminds me of the sweet young man of the past, the one that starred in my girlish fantasies. A warm feeling starts in my stomach, spreading slowly until it settles cozily in my chest.

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