After a quick trip to the bathroom, a futile attempt to tame some of my curls, and a swipe of lip gloss, I ride the elevator down to the lobby with my backpack slung over my shoulder. It’s the first time I’ve been out of the condo since Fallon—or rather Kymaris—tried to kill me and torched my business.
Maddox greets me in the lobby with a cheesy grin. “Damn, girl… you get finer every day.”
Even though Maddox is one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen, I roll my eyes because A) I know he’s just a jokester who likes to try to make me laugh, and, more importantly, B) he’s not the man I want complimenting me on my looks.
Regardless, I’ve become very fond of the big oaf.
He falls into step beside me as we head out of The Prestige. I almost giggle as I see the doorman give Maddox a wide berth because he most definitely doesn’t look like the refined, wealthy elite who live here—not with his long hair pulled back, beard, and tattoos visible under his V-neck shirt and on his wrists to the tips of his hands. I don’t have proof, but my guess is he’s covered from head to foot in them.
“What in the heck do those lobby folks think about you loitering around?” I ask, throwing my thumb over my shoulder.
“Well,” he drawls with a roguish smile. “I asked that same thing to the pretty blonde receptionist the other night when we spent some, shall I say, quality time together in the supply closet.”
My head whips his way to find him grinning from ear to ear. “Eww,” I say while wrinkling my nose. “And you shouldn’t be canoodling when you’re supposed to be protecting us.”
Reaching out, Maddox tweaks my nose playfully. “You’re such a fuddy-duddy, but I was actually off duty and Carrick was back. I didn’t fuck her until I’d turned my watch duty over to him.”
I can so see Maddox luring a woman into having sex with him in a dark closet, and I have to admit the thought of it is a bit… intriguing. I could almost imagine Carrick and me, but I drive that thought away.
“So… what did she say?” I press him.
“She just thinks I’m extra security for Carrick,” he replies with a shrug. “I expect Carrick is so rich that he could place a battalion of Marines in the lobby, and no one would say anything.”
“Are you that rich?” I ask him slyly.
He puts it back on me as we turn west on the next block. “What do you think?”
I ponder that for a moment. “I imagine you can’t live as long as you demi-gods do and not accumulate immense wealth.”
“That would be true,” he admits. “I just don’t splash it around like Carrick does.”
“He’s not splashy,” I rush to defend his brother.
Maddox just cocks his eyebrow, indicating he doesn’t believe a word of what I just said. “So, where are we going this morning?”
“To One Bean. Carrick already has a general contractor on-site, and he wanted to meet with me.”
Maddox whistles in appreciation. “Damn… that was fast getting the insurance money.”
“We didn’t,” I admit with a side glance as we traverse the midmorning walkers. “But Carrick wanted to start rebuilding quickly.”
That makes Maddox laugh, a knowing sort of chuckle, and he looks amused.
“What?” I demand.
He shakes his head, still laughing. “It’s just… Carrick isn’t the one wanting to rebuild quickly. He’s doing it just for you.”
I scoff in earnest. “It’s business. He told me himself.”
“You’re so blind, Finley,” Maddox teases, but doesn’t elaborate on that. I want to know what he means, but I also don’t want to open a can of worms regarding Carrick’s feelings, or lack thereof.
So I change the subject, “Speaking of your annoying, arrogant, controlling brother… any idea where he is today?”
“Rome,” Maddox replies casually, and I almost stumble over my own feet because I’m so shocked.
“He went to Rome?” I ask in astonishment. “Why? When? Is he coming back?”
“To answer you in order,” he drawls as we come to a crosswalk and have to wait for the light to change. “Yes. I imagine he has a lead. He went late last night. Of course he’s coming back, and I imagine your next question will be, when, to which I’d answer probably sometime today.”
For a moment, that doesn’t make sense to me because I know people can’t get on a plane from Seattle, fly there overnight, and be back the very next day. Not if they had business there.
Then it hit me… he didn’t fly.
He bent distance.
A flash of jealousy hits me that I can’t do that. Oh, the places I’d travel to. Paris to have croissants for breakfast, Japan for a sushi lunch, and Brazil for their world-renowned beef for dinner.
It’s moot to pine over such things as I’m human and bending distance would kill my fragile body.