There was going to be a bruise where my side collided with the dresser and Finn was going to be wicked pissed.
Not with me.
With himself.
I knew it like I knew I was really glad the dresser was there, because if it hadn’t been, then I’d have gone down.
And only God knew if I’d have managed to get myself up again, so I guessed I should be thankful for small mercies.
He’d see it when he changed the dressing on my stomach. Cursing my luck, I lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. I felt like I’d been doing this for a lifetime, when really, I’d only been stuck in bed for just under two weeks.
I was a jumble of so many mixed emotions and I was getting kind of pissed that Finn was the one blowing up when I was laying here grouchy, horny, itchy, and fidgety. And shit, I was bored. So bored. I loved reading, and when I’d had the tea room, I’d wished I had more time for it, but now that it was all I could do?
It didn’t help that I loved romance books, and those books were steamy, which made me even hornier, and it was all kinds of wrong that I could be in pain and need sex at the same time.
Hoping to God that Finn’s visit to the confessional would improve his demeanor before I had to rip him a new one, and wishing that he’d hurry the hell up because I missed him like nuts and he’d been gone for just over forty minutes—I know, I know, pathetic—I carried on staring up at the ceiling.
It provided no answers.
Well, I learned that the housekeepers cleaned the corners of the ceiling—there were zero cobwebs. Something I’d never done in my own apartment. How did they even reach those areas? I’d seen them. They appeared like little mice at around ten AM and when I said they were little, they’d need more than a stepladder to reach the high vaulted ceilings that were a feature all over the penthouse.
The private elevator pinged, breaking into my exciting thoughts on whether the maids were actually witches who used spells on those pesky, hard-to-reach areas, and the second I heard it, excitement whizzed through my veins as I realized Finn was home.
When his shoes clacked against the tiles, I waited with bated breath for him to come in, to visit with me, but he didn’t. His shoes, attached to those sexy rugby-player legs, passed by our bedroom.
What the fuck?
He wasn’t going to talk to me?
Even as bewildered hurt swirled inside me, I wanted to cry out for him, wanted to ask him to come in, but something stopped me. Tears pricked my eyes as I questioned what on earth I’d done to deserve the silent treatment, but then I realizedwhyI hadn’t called out.
The gait wasn’t right.
Finn walked smoothly. Like he did everything else. Damn his sexy hide. He walked like he was fucking waltzing, without the mincing—although I’d pay to see him dressed up in a tux. His smooth steps, shod in expensive leather, weren’t the same as the clod hopping sound of leather boots. I’d never seen him in boots. If he didn’t wear Oxfords, he wore loafers, with even his sneakers looking like they cost a few hundred bucks.
Finn wouldn’t be seen dead in a pair of cheap, squeaky boots.
Which meant that someone was in the apartment.
Someone that shouldn’t be here.
My heart began to pound, and nausea swirled in my belly. No one should be able to access this place except for Finn, myself, and the housekeeping staff—who’d already been in this morning.
Was it Aidan Sr.?
He’d already proven he could get in here without Finn’s say so, but I wasn’t scared of Aidan anymore. Right?
He didn’t make me feel warm and cozy inside, but I wasn’t scared. Not outright.
I would never be able to say why I did it, but something had me getting out of bed. The pain that spliced my nerve endings in two had me staggering to a halt to suck in air. If I moved slowly, there wasn’t much pain, but I had to shift my ass, and that wasn’t easy at the moment.
I cursed each second that delayed me, but rolling out was no longer as simple as it had been a few short weeks ago—how had my life changed so radically in under a month? Just smoothing back the sheets, so it looked like it was made, was hard going, but I managed and padded over to the closet as fast as I could.
Having hidden in here my first day in this apartment, I knew how cramped it was, and there was no way I could smoosh myself into a ball like I had before.
I could hide behind the clothes, though. There was wiggle room and I had lost a good fifteen pounds—amazing what no appetite could do to a woman. Shame it sucked hairy monkey balls because I missed cake almost as much as I missed Finn’s cock.
Yeah, it was that bad.