I stepped out of the elevator and approached the door at the end of the hallway to his penthouse. I knocked and waited, fists on my hips.
The door swung open. His hair was even more disheveled than a few minutes ago and he was breathing hard. Did he have a woman in there? Was that what all the noise was about?
I craned my neck, trying to look past him.
He leaned sideways, keeping his face in front of me as an amused smile spread his lips. “Looking for something?”
“Is someone in there with you?”
“Just my pets.”
“Let me guess, you have dogs?”
He gave a “kinda sorta” hand gesture. “I had two, but Rocky snuck out, knocked up some little French thing across the street. They moved in together. Gizmo moved on.”
I stared. How does a dog “move on?” No. I was not even going to ask.
“Want to come in?” He asked easily. “I could make you some coffee. Or maybe a beer. You look like you could use a few dozen.”
“I’m working. So no, I don’t want to come in. I want you to keep it down. It sounds like a circus up—Oh Jesus.” I jumped back, holding up my hands. Some scaled monster with a forked tongue came slithering out on four stubby legs from behind the man. White flakes of skin were peeling from every inch of it.
“That’s Rat,” he said. He knelt down and gave the thing a scratch on the neck, then carefully pulled back a little of the peeling skin. “He’s molting. Best not to make eye contact right now. He gets grumpy when he molts.”
I wasn’t dealing with this. No. Hell, no. I was too sick, too busy, and far too sane to handle whatever this man had going on. I lifted my finger, carefully avoiding eye contact with the small dragon on the ground. “One more peep, and I’ll send the building manager back up here with a net for that thing.”
“We will promise to keep it down if you give me your name.”
“That’s ridiculous, I’m not bargaining, I’m—”
Something bright red, yellow, and blue flapped in front of the windows behind him. Something inside his apartment. Was that a freaking parrot? I blinked. I didn’t have the time, energy, or patience for this. “My name is Elizabeth. Keep it down,” I warned again.
He gave a salute and stood in the doorway, still watching me.
I halfway turned to leave, then felt him still watching me. I spun on him. “What are you doing?”
“Standing in my hallway. What’re you doin’?” he asked the last with a lazy little smile I was sure had melted hundreds of foolish hearts. Not mine, asshole. My heart only felt an oppressively warm little surge of heat, which I was perfectly capable of pretending didn’t exist. That kind of nonsense was for people with small dreams and too much time on their hands. Other people.
“Leaving,” I snapped. “So close your door and stop leering.”
He said nothing, but I could feel his gaze on me for my whole walk back to the elevator. I pressed the button several times. The stupid thing was taking its sweet time. I tried not to, but finally spun and saw he was still there—just leaning and smiling in the doorway. He gave a little wave.
“It was nice to meet you, Elizabeth. I’m Travis, if you were wondering. I’ll come by tomorrow and we can talk about a permanent resolution to our little misunderstanding.”
The elevator doors finally opened. I walked inside. “No. You’ll keep it down and we won’t have any more problems.”
He nodded in a slow, I understand you believe that, but you’ve got no idea, kind of way. “See you tomorrow, Lizz,” he said, waving again just before the doors closed.
I looked up at the ceiling, and almost lost my temper in a full-blown foot stomping, screaming moment of irritation. This was just a test. It was the universe sending me a final, ultimate challenge to find out if I really deserved to win the keys to K.M. Glass. Stuck home sick. Tormented by an egomaniac upstairs neighbor with a literal zoo in his apartment. It was just a test. And damn it, I’d never met a test I didn’t ace.
Except chemistry. Why did I have a sinking feeling that Travis was about to give me an unwanted tutoring session on the subject?
3
TRAVIS
I woke up with an oversized cat on my forehead. I carefully set him aside and got myself up. Rat was waiting eagerly by the side of my bed for his morning fruit and lettuce mix. Monitor lizards were omnivores, but Rat was a big softie and always refused meat when I tried to give it to him.
At any given time, I had a rotating mixture of animals in my life. Some were loaners from the zoo. Some just needed a safe place to recover or shelter before they could be moved to permanent habitats, but everybody in the city knew I was happy to take them, so they always kept coming. I had a full-time assistant named Jean who was an expert at being virtually invisible. If I was going to be out too long to see to the pets, I just shot him a text and he handled the rest. One of the many perks of being filthy rich, I guess.