"She's fucking herself."
My blush deepens. "Simulating it."
"You'd hang this on your wall?"
"If I could afford it." They go for more than I make in six months. "I'd put them in my bedroom. So they were mine."
He studies me carefully. He's looking for something. I don't know what it is, but he must find it, because he nods. "My handyman could use your help in positioning this, but I imagine you have to get back to the city."
"Yes." I'm tempted to stay, to see her in action, but I promised Remy we'd watch his favorite show, and I'm already going to be late. "My brother is waiting."
"Louis can drop you at home."
I consider saying no, so this strange man doesn't know my address, but the offer is too tempting. "That's generous. Thank you."
"I can send you a photo." He motions to the wall. "Once I settle on a placement."
He's asking to contact me again.
If it was anyone else, I'd say yes, but I'm already picturing Adam ordering me out of my clothes.
Backing me into the wall.
Sliding his hand between my legs and growling dirty demands.
I can't fuck a customer.
I certainly can't fuck a strange man who lives in a Gothic castle of a mansion.
But I can't turn down the chance to see my favorite photo in action either.
"I'd appreciate that." I pull a business card from my purse.
His fingers brush mine as he takes it. "Thank you, Danielle."
"My pleasure."
He walks me downstairs, to the company of the driver, then he disappears. Back to his office. Or maybe to the bedroom to fuck himself to the photo.
I use the bathroom next to the kitchen. Find coffee, bottled water, and a wrapped bag of snacks waiting on the counter. Fancy snacks. A ten-dollar bar of chocolate. A bag of artisan kettle corn. Salted hazelnuts.
It's good coffee and better chocolate. I don't question. I follow the driver to the town car, don my headphones, escape with my favorite seventies singer-songwriter.
It doesn't hit me until I'm four blocks from my apartment.
I know Adam.
Not personally. But I know of him.
The tech mogul was in the news last year. He and his brother Sebastian were in an accident.
His brother died. He walked away with scars and a broken arm.
It was gossip for weeks.
Everyone tossed around theories.
But only one really stuck: The accident was foul play.
And Adam was the prime suspect.
Chapter Three
Danielle
After three hours in the back of a luxury car, I'm ready to move.
I drop my bag on my desk, change into a sports bra and leggings, find a workout to stream on my laptop.
I feel a little silly, high kicking and grape-vining across the living room, but I need the sweat.
After Mom died, I fell apart. I barely managed to drag myself to my job serving overpriced whiskey. And I failed to bring enough energy to charm rich guys.
My boss gave me an ultimatum: show up in a short dress and a smile or don't show up at all.
A week off—he insisted—did nothing to alleviate the ache in my heart or the emptiness in my gut.
But what choice did I have?
I donned my shortest dress and my hottest boots, plastered on a smile, struggled through my eight-hour shifts.
It took all my energy. Mental, physical, emotional. I needed another way to cope.
I gave into bad habits until Remy caught on.
I promised him I'd stop.
For a while, I did. I switched to aerobics. Really cheesy, peppy, eighties style aerobics.
Between the high-energy music and the endorphin boosting sweat, I survived. I didn't thrive. But I kept Remy in school and I kept food on the table.
It was hard. It's still hard. No matter what I do, there's never enough money.
After I finish my workout, I shower, dress, find a message from Adam on my cell.
A picture of The Voyeur on his wall.
Adam: Do you approve?
The grayscale photo looks perfect against the white wall. There's even space for the other portraits.
Danielle: You left room for her.
Adam: You're right. It's a shame to break a set.
Danielle: It is.
Adam: You truly believe that.
Danielle: Yes, but I don't blame you for doubting me.
Adam: Will you deliver them?
Danielle: Whatever you like.
My cheeks flush at the implication.
Adam: I'll pay double the asking price if I get them tomorrow.
That's a lot. Way too much to turn down. Especially for a simple task.
Danielle: Of course. I'll email the paperwork.
The front door opens. My brother steps inside. Brandishes a takeout bag from the Thai restaurant down the street. "Extra spicy and extra greasy." He motions to the coffee table. "Just how you like it."
"How did you make that sound dirty?"
"It's a skill." His eyes go to my cell. "Are you talking to a guy?"
"A customer."
"A customer you want to fuck."
Way too much.
I can't explain it. He's handsome, yes. Tall, broad, strong. With incredibly blue eyes and extremely kissable lips.