The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) by Nikki Sloane (top e book reader .TXT) 📗

“Hi,” he said in his deep voice before his gaze shifted to the phone in my hand. His posture stiffened like a person interviewing for a job and wanting to make a good impression.

It came from me breathlessly. “Hi.”

“I thought the three of us,” Clay said on screen, “could have a conversation. Do you want to invite him in?”

It was at that moment I realized I’d been gripping the door handle so hard, my hand ached. I stepped back, making room. “Come in.”

The man crossed the threshold, keeping a polite, cordial distance. While his gaze remained on me, I sensed he was completely aware of the other man, even if Clay wasn’t physically in the room. I closed the door behind the man, then looked at Clay for what was going to happen next.

“This is Mr. E,” he said.

Seriously? I grimaced at the fake name. “Mystery?”

“No.” Clay’s eyebrow shot up, and he weighted each syllable. “Mister. E. I’ve already told him to call you L.”

Had Mr. E not understood like I had? Did he think my name was Elle? Either way, it didn’t matter. I was pleased to have at least a sliver of information about him, even if it was only an initial.

Clay’s tone was friendly and not bossy. “Go sit together on the couch, and I can explain what Mr. E is doing here.”

Breath was held tightly in my lungs as I walked toward the living room and E trailed behind me. Had he been in Clay’s house before? It didn’t seem like it. When I sat down and rested the phone in my lap, he surveyed the room like everything was unfamiliar.

Except for me, which was ironic. Yeah, we’d had sex, but we barely knew a thing about each other. Not even names.

His gaze zeroed in on Noir, who bolted the moment she realized there was a stranger in the house. His reaction was odd. Was he amused? Or was he not a cat person?

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He was amused, or at least he found my question funny, because a smile tilted his lips. “I didn’t expect him to own a cat.”

I was going to explain she was our cat, but Clay cleared his throat in a way that demanded our attention, and E’s smile drained away. The large man sat down beside me on the couch and kept a respectful space, as if he weren’t allowed any closer.

“Since the three of us have already played together,” Clay announced, “I asked Mr. E if he’d be interested in a temporary arrangement.” There was a gravity to his voice, hinting this was a big deal. “He said yes.”

I swallowed thickly. “What kind of arrangement?”

“Until I’m back, he’ll be me.”

“What?”

“I’ll still control the scene, but it’ll be remotely for now. He’s agreed to fulfill the physical part for me.”

I nearly dropped the phone. Every muscle inside corded like a tightly twisted rope as I struggled to process what he’d said. “Like . . . he’ll be your stand-in?”

The sinful look in Clay’s eyes was seriously hot. “Yes. You’ll think of him as an extension of me. He’s another way for us to play together.”

I focused on the man sitting beside me and how he held himself perfectly still. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, but otherwise, there was no way to tell what he was thinking or if he was nervous. His expression rang of forced emptiness.

I tried to understand why Mr. E agreed to this. “You’ll take directions from Clay?”

“There are rules,” my partner interrupted. “I’d prefer if you only spoke to me, and not with each other.”

I stilled. “Why?”

He put a finger on the bridge of his glasses and pushed them up. “Because I think it’ll be easier for you to imagine it’s me.” He wasn’t sure if he should say the next part but decided to go for it. “No personal information, which is why you have initials instead of names. This is temporary, and I’d like to minimize your connection to each other. That way, when it’s over, it’s not difficult for anyone.”

I didn’t miss the way his eyes shifted E’s direction, like he faintly worried the man he’d invited into his house might get attached to me.

“So, I can’t talk to him,” I said with mixed feelings, and my tone turned dubious. “Do I call him by your name?”

“No. I’ll be onscreen, so if you have a question or need something, just ask it.”

I mashed my lips together as I considered this completely bananas idea. I saw the appeal of it for Clay because he enjoyed watching, and I did see the appeal for E, because he’d get to carry out all of Clay’s plans.

This arrangement was all kinds of attractive to me. We’d make lemonade out of the lemon Clay’s job had handed to us.

I took a breath. “What are the other rules?”

“You can’t see him if you’re not seeing me.”

Meaning if Clay wasn’t on video, E wasn’t allowed to be with me.

“I trust Mr. E,” he added. “You should feel comfortable and safe with him, so don’t think this rule has anything to do with that. It’s only because he’s my surrogate. He’ll act as I would if I were physically there.”

I nodded slowly. “I understand.”

“Also,” his expression was intensely serious, “no kissing on the mouth.”

God, that sent the strangest thrill through me. Surely, this rule was just meant to support the idea of no personal connections between Mr. E and me, but there was a possessive undertone to it. Did Clay want something only for himself? That he’d be the only man allowed to press his lips to mine?

Once again, it felt like he was being unintentionally romantic.

“Do you have any questions?”

I probably did, but I couldn’t think of any, except for one. It beat loudly in my brain like a racing heart, picking up momentum as it went. My voice was tight, choked with need. “When do we start?”

My question gave the men so much pleasure, I