4
A few days later, I started noticing some of my clothes were missing.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. They weren’t expensive pieces, and I had plenty of others. But then, the lace lingerie set Cassie had bought me last week vanished.
I couldn’t figure it out. We didn’t have cameras in the house, so there was no way to identify the pervert.
Finally, over dinner one evening, I brought it up with Parker.
“I think we have a thief.”
He was calmly sitting at the table, spreading butter on a piece of my toast. He paused for a fraction of a
second at my words.
Without looking up, he asked, his voice steady, “What’s missing?”
“Lingerie.”
”
11
I said it nonchalantly, but his reaction was anything but. The butter knife slipped, smearing a dollop of yellow
across the small mole on the back of his hand.
My eyes narrowed, watching his uncharacteristic clumsiness.
“Why so nervous? Did you take it?”
Parker was silent for a few seconds before letting out a soft, humorless laugh. His long, dark eyes met mine.
“What do you think?”
Before heading to the office, Parker was always impeccably dressed. He wore a pair of thin, gold–rimmed glasses for his slight nearsightedness, which only served to accentuate the depth of his features. Right now, behind those lenses, his black pupils seemed colder than the sunlight streaming through the window.
6/0
19.12
Chapter 1
I offered a light smile.
19:12
What did I think? Parker was the epitome of buttoned–up, straight–laced propriety. And besides, what on earth would he do with my underwear?
I decided to drop it. “What time will you be back tonight? I have something for you.”
The divorce papers were ready.
Parker handed me the toast, his reply coming instantly. “Whenever you want me, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He said it so quickly, the words tumbling out, that I barely registered the meaning behind them. His phone rang. The assistant waiting in the driveway came in with a briefcase, reminding him he was late.
Parker left.
I placed a hand over my chest, where my heart had just skipped a beat. My other hand went to my ear, which was inexplicably burning hot.
I was both flustered and annoyed. Why couldn’t he just talk normally? What was with all the flirting?
