10 06
Seeing my eyes constantly darting towards the adjoining wall, they quickly caught on. With a shared look of understanding, one of them grinned. “Got it. Mission accepted!”
A minute later, the two models were engaged in a theatrical display of “passionate roughhousing,” their grun- ts and laughter quickly filling the room with a manufactured ambiance of debauchery. I found myself caught in the middle of their performance, stifling giggles at their over–the–top acting.
Soon, there was a soft knock on the door.
Parker stood there, his hair dripping wet, his eyes downcast like a kicked puppy’s. He was holding a platter of sliced fruit. He didn’t say a word, his gaze slowly scanning my body–my nose, my cheeks, my collarbon- es. When his eyes landed on the gossamer–thin robe I was wearing, they darkened with a familiar sadness.
The sight of him, so clearly miserable but trying so hard to hide it, was almost comical.
I decided to push him a little further.
“Want to come in and join the fun?”
The forced composure on Parker’s face nearly cracked. His knuckles went white around the edge of the cer-
amic plate. “I… I was wondering if I could borrow your shower,” he said, his voice flat.
Again? His hair was already soaked, and he smelled faintly of my body wash. Did he really think I couldn’t tell he’d just taken a shower?
But I didn’t call him out. I stepped aside. “Be my guest.”
I noticed then that along with the fruit, he was also carrying a small, discreet bag.
As he entered, his eyes shot daggers at the two men on the sofa, who were now panting dramatically, their clothes artfully disheveled. His gaze flickered to my rumpled bedsheets, and his fists clenched at his sides.
It took him a visible effort to tear his eyes away and disappear into the bathroom.
10
The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, the two models visibly deflated.
“Jesus, Nora,” one of them whispered, his shoulders trembling. “The look your husband gave us… I thought he was going to murder us.”
I hadn’t seen Parker’s expression from behind. Hearing this, I raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, that’s enough for tonight. You guys can go.”
“You got it. Hope you have a wonderful night!”
Me too, I thought. God, I hope so.
The sound of running water filled the silence. I changed the sheets on the bed, then crept over to the bathr-
4/13
13:06
Chapter 2
oom door and pressed my ear against it.
… Nothing but the shower.
I sighed and sat down on the sofa, pulling up Parker’s secret blog. Just as I suspected, he’d posted an upda-
te only minutes ago.
DrunkenShark:
She called me darling. But the guilt in her voice after cheating on me is terrifying. I want her to call me that forever, but I don’t want her to keep finding other men.
DrunkenShark:
The sounds from next door are so loud. Am I really that boring? Or have I given her too much freedom? Is that why she keeps getting tempted by others?
DrunkenShark:
I’m going to lose my mind. What are they doing in there? What do those two bastards have that I don’t? I can do those things. I can do them better. I can make her happy.
DrunkenShark:
I can’t take this anymore. I’m going to please her now. I don’t care if she cries. I’m going to punish her. I have
- to.
”
A shiver ran down my spine at those last words.
Suddenly, a soft click came from the bathroom, followed by Parker’s voice.
“Nora? Could you bring me the towel by the door?”
I realized then that he’d “forgotten” his towel outside.
He did that on purpose, didn’t he?
A smirk played on my lips. I knocked on the door, playing along.
An arm, glistening with water droplets, emerged from the crack. Then the door opened wider.
Parker stood there, his tall frame filling the doorway, a wave of cool air washing over me. He was wearing
the black and white butler costume from the picture on his blog, the front cut daringly low to expose his
chest.
My eyes went wide.
