Little Lies by Elena Reyes (ebook reader for laptop .TXT) 📗

intimidating in the least, but I’ll give the guy credit for bravado.

Footsteps follow me up the stairs and onto the landing, but before she can attempt to move past me, I place a hand on her stomach. “Wait here.”

“Are you crazy, that’s my dog and—”

“Gabriella, I’m not asking. We don’t know what’s in there, so wait here.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend, but the situation hits home for her. We don’t know what or who is here, and I’d rather she stay out here where it’s safe. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t let anything happen to my dog.”

“He’ll always be safe with me.” When she gives me her nod, I follow the sound of her dogs bark inside the last room on this floor. His body’s half in the room and half out, his yips a little funny, but I understand once I’m at the door. “Oh, buddy. You’re in trouble now.”

The culprit is none other than her dog and a paint can, the latter splattered all over the floor of what looks to be her home studio. The shade is bright blue and has stained him, leaving little paw prints on the wood and when she steps beside me, I feel bad for him.

“Mr. Pickles!” she yells out, causing him to stop and look up with the most pathetic eyes I’ve ever seen on an animal. “What did I tell you about touching my experiment jar? This is the third time, dude, and now it’s bath time before a timeout.”

And bath time sets him off, the little shit running off and disappearing down the hall and into another room.

Gabriella isn’t happy, huffing while walking past me. “I swear, if it’s not one thing, it’s another. My life was never so exciting before, and I miss the quiet.”

“The joy of pets.”

“Is this why you don’t have any?” She grabs a bottle of some cleaning solution and sprays the area, nearly drenching it before grabbing an old towel from the same place. Gabriella wipes it down, and the frown on her face while mumbling about her dog is quite cute.

“My pets can’t be housed like domesticated ones can be.”

Her hand pauses its cleaning action, and her head turns toward me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m the private owner of a conservation outside of the country that houses the largest collection of exotic animals in the world. These are animals that were once pets and when the owners couldn’t afford the maintenance or the city demanded they get rid of them, I took them in.”

“You’re kidding,” she asks, her mess on the floor now forgotten.

“Not at all.”

“For real, or are you yanking my—”

“I’m serious.”

“Wow.” Her expressions flicker from shock to curious to awe in the span of five seconds. Gabriella rises onto the tips of her toes, jumping in place, and I can’t help but look at her breasts. The way they bounce. How perky they are with tiny little points that press against the fabric of my shirt she’s still wearing. “...visit it?

“I’m sorry, what?” There’s no shame in my expression, and she doesn’t catch me looking either. The woman is too excited, rambling a bit, and I hold up both hands to pause her. “Slower, sweetheart. What were you saying?”

“I said, Mr. Astor...is it open to the public?”

“Yes and no.”

Her perfectly sculpted brows furrow. “Yes and no?”

“It’s not open to the public but would be for you. We can go after you—” This time, I’m interrupted and it’s Tero’s ringtone. He’s not one to interrupt me unless it’s important, and I don’t hesitate to pull a different phone from the one I let the detective use at the hospital. Only he and his wife have this number. “What?”

“My apologies for the interruption. I know you’re still with Miss Moore, but something has come up that you need to see.” He sounds a little out of breath. Agitated. “Can I meet you at the office or penthouse in an hour?”

“Office, and clear the building,” I say, my eyes watching Gabriella. She’s curious, a little worried, but tries to pretend she isn’t listening while bending to pick up the ruined towel. That one is tossed in the wastebasket before she grabs another, spraying more solution on the floor and repeating the process until it’s clean. “Can you swing by the penthouse and pick up the file atop my desk? There’s something in there we need to go over as well.”

“Done.” The sound of a car door closing comes through the line before the start of an engine. “I’ll see you soon, and again, my apologies for the interruption.”

“None needed. See you soon.”

“If you need to go, it’s okay.” Picking up her cleaning supplies, she puts everything back where it goes and then turns to face me again, her hands twisting in front of her. “We’ve been here a while now and everything seems fine.”

“Unfortunately, something work related does need my attention, but I’m not leaving yet.”

“No?”

“No.” Holding a hand up, I let my eyes wander around the room and take in a few pieces. She’s truly gifted. Has a certain emotional touch to each painting that comes through the canvas and settles in your bones. “First, I promised you I’d look around and make sure that the cleanup crew I hired removed the mess left behind.”

“What mess? Everything looks fine, and please don’t run late because of me.”

“The forensics team was here, and your home was searched from top to bottom, especially the downstairs doors and backyard, for clues. They dusted for fingerprints while others combed the yard for any clue as to how he got here in the first place. All procedural, but I don’t want you to have to see or handle that.”

“You’re too kind, Theodore.” There’s a hint of relief mixed with so much gratitude in her tone. She makes me feel like the saint I’m not. If anything, I’m selfish in my need to care for her, to shield her as best I can from what cannot