Page 66 of My Craving

I’ve hidden this part of myself from every man I’ve tried to date. The last daddy I tried anything serious with made excuses whenever I disappeared and lied when I came home. There was always a piece of me I couldn’t let him see because explaining where I’d been meant explaining everything that started with Joey. Duncan already knows what I do, and instead of looking at me like I’m fucked in the head, his family offered me a seat at the table.

For once, I might actually get to have someone without hiding half of myself from him. Alina picked the wrong fucking man if she thinks I’m going to let her take that away.

The hotel doors slide open, pulling my attention forward. Alina walks out in a navy power suit and sky-high heels, a designer handbag hanging from one arm. She doesn’t scan the parking lot or look over her shoulder as she crosses the sidewalk. Why would she? As far as she knows, nobody has connected Daniela Norris to Alina Rusu yet.

An Uber stops at the curb. She gets in, and I wait until the car disappears into traffic before reaching for my shoulder bag. Zee gave me everything I asked for: a master key programmed for this hotel, an external drive loaded with software to copy her laptop, and a USB for anything else I find. I check all three before getting out of the Mini.

Sneaking through a hotel lobby is a good way to make people remember you. I walk in like I’ve stayed here for a week, cap pulled low without hiding my face, and head directly for the elevators. Nobody at the desk gives me more than a passing glance.

The elevator is empty when the doors close, giving me the ride to the fourteenth floor to go over the plan one more time. Get in. Copy what I can. Touch as little as possible. Get the hell out before Alina comes back.

Zee’s master key unlocks her door on the first try. Somehow, Zee can send me some tiny piece of technology with almost no explanation, and the damn thing works exactly the way he says it will.

I step inside and listen before closing the door behind me. The room is silent, and a quick check confirms I’m alone. It’s a standard suite with a king bed, a small sitting area, and a desk against the wall. Her laptop is sitting right on top of it.

“Thank you for making my life easy.”

I connect Zee’s external drive and start the program. A progress bar appears, and while it works through the laptop, I search the rest of the suite. Desk drawers first, then the bathroom, closet, and luggage. Nothing useful turns up until I reach the bed and lift one of the pillows. A burner phone is tucked underneath it.

I wake the screen and stare at it when it opens without asking for a passcode. “Seriously?”

For a woman who managed to live under someone else’s identity and worm her way into the Whitmores’ social circle, that’s fucking sloppy. I plug in Zee’s USB and let it do whatever magical computer shit he programmed it to do while I check the laptop.

The progress bar finishes first. I disconnect the drive, return the laptop exactly where I found it, then do the same with the burner phone once the USB is done. Nine minutes after entering Alina’s room, I’m back in the hallway with both drives in my bag and nothing behind me to show I was ever there.

Once I’m back inside Max’s Mini with the doors locked, I lean against the headrest and finally let myself breathe normally again. I was inside Alina’s room for less than ten minutes, but between driving across the city, waiting for her to leave and getting back to the car, I’ve been gone from the studio for more than two hours. Simon has probably realized by now that even the most dedicated yoga addict doesn’t meditate long enough to require a missing-person report.

My phone connects to Max’s Bluetooth when I start the car, and I call him before pulling out of the parking lot.

“Thank fuck,” he says instead of hello. “Please tell me you’re out of that hotel and nothing happened.”

“I’m out, I have what I went for, and nobody chased me down the hallway. I’m heading back now.”

His breath comes through the speakers. “Good, because your security detail has already come inside looking for you. I told the blond one you were meditating.”

I laugh as I merge into traffic. “You don’t have a meditation room.”

“I panicked. He’s fucking intimidating.” Max is quiet for a second before adding, “Also ridiculously hot, which didn’t help.”

“Simon?”

“You know his name?”

“He’s been following me around all day. It would be weird if I didn’t.” I picture Simon standing outside the studio with that expressionless security-guard face of his. “Want me to find out if he’s interested?”

“Absolutely not. That man looks like he could bench-press me.”

“You say that like it’s a problem.”

Max laughs, but I hear the hesitation underneath it. “Someone who looks like that isn’t interested in me, Nash.”

I hate when he talks about himself this way. “You have no idea what he’s interested in. You’re hot, you own a successful business, and you’ve put up with my bullshit without murdering me. That last one alone makes you a catch.”

“Your standards for a healthy relationship are low.”

“Probably, but that doesn’t make me wrong.” I slow for traffic, thinking about how easily Max can see the good in everyone except himself. “One asshole doesn’t get to decide what you’re worth for the rest of your life.”

He goes quiet long enough that I wonder if I pushed too far before he says, “That’s pretty good advice from a man who spent years making sure nobody got close enough to know him. Just get your ass back here before Duncan Murphy’s security team tears apart my studio looking for the meditation room I invented. Simon already came inside once, and I’m pretty sure he’s losing patience.”