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grab a cab outside that has just let some people out and ask the driver to take me home.

7

Rhys

I stare at the metal doors closing in front of me. I’m so confused by what just happened. What did she mean that she’s been talking to me? I don’t online date. I haven’t spoken to any women in New York since being in London.

I head back to my room and get dressed, then grab my phone and call Stirling. Where the hell did he find this woman?

“Hey, man, you fucked-up yet?” Stirling asks when I call him.

“What do you mean?” I mean, technically, I’m fucked-up with confusion.

“Don’t tell me the cleaner swiped my gift from your home?” He groans. “The bottle of whiskey. Thought you’d need it coming home,” he explains to me.

Wait a minute.

His surprise was the whiskey, not the woman?

“I need you to be honest with me right now,” I tell him seriously. “Did you also leave a gorgeous brunette in my apartment as well?”

The line goes silent.

My heart begins to rapidly beat out of my chest with anxiety.

“Hang on. What did you say? A brunette. As in a woman?” he questions me.

“Yes. A woman. Dressed in lingerie waiting for me,” I tell him slowly, knowing exactly the answer he’s about to tell me.

“Um… no. You sure you haven’t been drinking the whiskey and are drunk? The jetlag must have hit you hard. I wouldn’t send a woman to your home.”

“Fuck.” Running my hand through my hair, I ask, “Then who the hell was she?”

“Rhys… back up a minute.” He halts my mini freak out. “I just want to make sure I understand what’s happening.” There’s concern in his voice. “There was a woman in your apartment when you came home from London?”

“Yes. A very beautiful woman.” Not like that makes a scrap of difference.

“So, a very beautiful woman in her underwear is waiting for you in your apartment. And you do what?” he asks.

Silence falls between us.

“Rhys… what did you do?”

“She came on to me, and we fucked.” Now that I’m saying it out loud, oh shit! What the hell was I thinking.

“You fucked her?” Stirling raises his voice.

“Yes. Because I thought she was my surprise,” I reply.

“You thought the woman was your surprise?” he reiterates.

“Yes. You said you had a surprise for me. She was there waiting… I put two and two together.” Running my hand through my hair, my stomach tightens as I collapse onto my couch.

“You think I would send you a woman.” His voice raises again.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Closing my eyes, I wish this fucked-up mess would somehow disappear.

“How the hell did she get into your home if she wasn’t from me?” Stirling asks.

Sitting up abruptly.

How the hell did she get inside my secure apartment?

“I don’t know.” My stomach sinks even further.

What the hell is going on?

“Did she say who she works for? Maybe it was the wrong apartment,” Stirling advises.

“See, that’s the thing…” letting out a long sigh, “… after we fucked, I tried to give her a tip.”

“You did what?” Stirling raises his voice.

“I’ve never been with an escort before. I don’t understand the rules.” The words rush out quickly, maybe too quickly.

“And what did she do?” Stirling asks.

“She threw the money back in my face and started to cuss me out. She said we had been speaking online.”

Stirling goes quiet for a couple of moments.

“And you haven’t been?” He double-checks with me.

“No, I don’t online date.”

“And you came home early, right?” The wheels are spinning in Stirling’s mind. “Who has access to your home?”

“My cleaner and the bellmen.” And as I say the words, my interaction with Ricky on my way in filters through my mind. His surprise at seeing me home early. His face turning a strange shade of white.

“Fuck.”

“What?” Stirling answers with a question.

“I think it might have been the bellman. He was acting weird tonight,” I explain.

“Guess you’re going to have to pay him a little visit,” Stirling advises.

“Sure as hell am.” Getting up off my couch, I head toward the elevator. “Hey, can you get security to check the surveillance of my apartment while I’m away? I want to catch this fucker red-handed.”

Stirling agrees, and I hang up.

My blood is boiling.

This little fucker has been using my home as his own private fuck palace.

How dare he.

How fucking dare he.

Did he even clean my home after?

My stomach rolls at the thought.

The doors open to the lobby, and as soon as Ricky sees who has walked out of the elevator, he looks like he’s going to shit himself.

“You little fucker.” Pointing at him, I stride over to where he’s standing.

“Mr. Davenport, I can explain.” He holds up his hands in front of him as if he thinks I’m going to punch him. I want to, but I’m also not fucking stupid.

“You little fucking shit… have been using my place to fuck women?” His eyes widen as he realizes I’ve put two and two together.

“I… I…” He has no words because he’s guilty as sin.

“You’ve been pretending my home is yours? How many?” I ask.

He just stares blankly at me.

“She was the first.” His words come out in a barely-there whisper.

Huh?

“Ariana,” he states.

If that’s her name, it’s nice. Pretty. It suits her.

“She was the first woman I—” He doesn’t need to finish that sentence as I cut him off.

“How fucking dare you.” Pointing at him, I am seething.

“I know. I’m sorry, sir. My girl… she left me for some rich guy, and I was feeling lonely and just…” he trails off with his pitiful excuses.

I don’t fucking care.

“You know I’m going to have to tell the board about this.” Glaring at him, I continue, “You’ve violated my home.”

“I know, sir. I… I just … she was so pretty, and I never thought a woman like her would ever look at me if I was me,” he tells me pathetically. “So, I pretended to be you online, and she loved it. Fell for it, and—”

Wait, what did he

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