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Which is why I am running three minutes late to the meetup spot Anne texted me twenty-four minutes ago. I’d been brushing my hair in my apartment back uptown, making sure that no one would be able to smell or see the sex on me, when my phone pinged.

Frankie lives all the way in NoHo, almost thirty minutes away. The red line was running late today as it was, so everything was a total nightmare.

The only thing keeping my anxiety at bay is that Cullen had been with me and calmed me down a fraction.

I bank right at the next intersection, clocking the large apartment complex with a huge, shining metallic 207 hammered above the revolving door.

Bingo.

I give the street a quick left-right look before jaywalking, keeping an eye on the taxi that seemed to be increasing in speed at my illegal crossing—as if I were the only person in the city who doesn’t obey traffic signals.

As soon as I push into the lobby, Anne clocks me. She lets out a disappointed huff, almost glaring.

“About time.”

“Sorry. Trains were delayed.”

“Whatever. Come on.”

I follow her through the lobby over to the elevator bank, where Jenna is chatting with Frankie’s agent, Gary. The skeezy man with his oil-slicked hair gives Anne and me appreciative once-overs.

“Nice of you to join us, girls.”

I keep the smile plastered on my face even though his words send shivers down my spine. I’ve only interacted with him via email previously but had gathered from Anne’s snide remarks just how creepy he could be.

He buzzes us into the elevator, and we ride up the forty-two floors to Frankie’s apartment—or maybe it’s Frankie and Bridget’s apartment, given the plush pink welcome mat outside the front door. Gary punches in a code and sweeps his arm out for us to enter.

“Take a seat at the dining table. I’ll grab us all some waters.”

The three of us nod our heads and make our way to the large white table. This place is absolutely ginormous. I didn’t even know you could get apartments this large in the city. I’d thoughtCullen’s place was pretty impressive, but this makes it look mediocre.

I smile to myself, filing that tidbit away for later to tease him.

I continue glancing around the apartment, admiring the décor, which only furthers my assumption that Bridget lives here as well, when a moan filters into the silence. I freeze, head tilting slightly.

Odd.

I shake it off, joining Anne at the table as she opens her laptop and pulls up the final slide deck. Not even a moment later, the same moan echoes again.

This time, I know I didn’t imagine it because Anne gives me a wary glance.

Gary clears his throat as he places five bottles of sparkling water on the table. “Frankie. Get out here.”

A strange tension settles over the room as more grunts filter out, prompting Gary to give us a tight smile and say, “Excuse me,” before turning down a short hall and banging on a door. A beat passes before he returns to us, a few wrinkles marring his forehead.

We have our slide deck set up on the laptop and the PMS samples laid out next to it, waiting for the client.

“God, Gary, don’t you know not to bother me when I’m balls deep, man?”

A half naked Frankie Jones comes strolling into the room. Seriously, the guy is only wearing a pair of designer boxers.

“Oh my God,” Jenna whispers, immediately turning around.

My eyes linger for a second out of pure shock before I also angle my head away.

“Jesus Christ, there are people here?”

There’s shuffling and then more slamming of doors. All the while, the three of us from Delute keep our eyes on the ground and wait.