Page 34 of Gluttony (Seven Deadly Sins #4)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bowie

This cannot be happening, what the actual fuck?

Rushing out of Hayes’s office like I’m a criminal on the run, I ignore the confused looks on Crosby’s face.

There are about four different things I need to process from whatever it is that happened in there this past hour.

With the tension between us on high alert and chemistry flying off the charts, it was a matter of time before we gave in to our lust for each other.

The dry humping orgasm, however, I was not expecting.

Not to mention the spots of cum riddled on my suit.

But that’s not the issue right now.

“Come on, come on, come on.” Mickey’s number keeps going to voicemail every time I press on the green call button. I’m not surprised that he’s ignoring me, in fact, I was expecting it for the first few calls. But on the sixth or seventh or tenth call? No. He can’t do this to me.

Seriously, he cannot just sell a condo that we both paid for without even giving me a courtesy call, can he?

The thought that he would take the money from the sale and leave me high and dry crosses my mind but then…

that was the realtor. They need my signature for the new buyer, that has to mean that I’m getting half, right?

I should have asked more questions, been more alert, but between the sweet victory of tasting Hayes’s cock in his office and the phone call telling me we’ve got a bid on a condo I didn’t know we were selling, I’m a little frazzled.

When I reach my desk and glance up at the clock on the wall, I realize our normal work hours are almost over, which means one if not all three of the CEOs will be coming for me.

“Oh, Diamond. It’s about time.”

What did Hayes mean by that? The logical guess would be that he knows—and if one knows, they all know—that I’ve been less than honest about my intentions. Have they figured out the con situation?

No way. The last two weeks, I’ve had free rein of their apartment and I can’t imagine they’d give me that much freedom if they suspected the gravity of my intentions.

Leaning against the desk, the weight of my shoulders forces me to slump down, a heavy sigh escaping my chest. I’m so fucked. The worst part is that ever since the beat down, my only agenda has been to learn about this business so I can find a job somewhere as an agent.

I could go to Nashville or Los Angeles. Hell, Miami has a great music scene, too. Not Detroit, it’s too fucking cold up there.

With my mind whirring, I flinch when I get a buzzing in my hand.

The phone screen lights up with an update that I need to provide sufficient funds to my bank account.

This isn’t the account I have for the con, the one I’m sure my bosses had somebody check out before hiring me.

This is my joint account with Mickey. The one with all of our savings.

The fucking account we’ve worked hard to grow and makes sure we have a comfortable life.

There was close to a hundred grand in there.

My chest heaving and my nostrils flaring from both panic and complete and utter rage, I raise my hand to throw my phone against the opposite wall when an ironclad lock on my wrist halts my movement.

“You’d regret that in an instant, trust me.” It’s only when I look up at Hayes’s concerned eyes, all deep blue and jumping from one to the other that I realize I’ve got tears rolling down my cheeks.

“I know but you just took away two seconds of bliss.”

Hayes leans in and catches my earlobe between his teeth.

“You came all over my trousers, Diamond. If you need another orgasm from me, just say the word. Guaranteed, it’ll feel better than smashing your phone.

” With the aid of his thumb, he wipes away the tears before bringing his digit to his mouth and sucking.

Not once does he take his gaze away from me.

Why is that so fucking hot?

“I guess you’re right.” My entire body aches from the tension in my shoulders and the base of my neck. Stress will be the end of me, I’m sure of it.

“Come on, then. Let’s get you back home and we’ll have that chat. The guys are already waiting for us downstairs.”

We don’t say a word the whole way to the car, and as though the guys got the memo, they don’t engage in small talk either. The car ride home is silent and I’m so damn grateful for that because I’ve only got minutes to figure out what the fuck I’m going to say to them once we’re at the penthouse.

More than that, I need to figure out what happens to me after they kick me out. Because I’m not a fucking idiot, they’ll grab my shit and, if I’m lucky, order me a car to drive me back to my dump.

Oh, wait…it’s been rented out to someone else, thanks to Hadley.

The reality of my dire situation dawns on me between Twenty-third and Sixth. As of this moment, I’m homeless.

Shit.

I’m guessing my body language is speaking volumes since I can feel three pairs of eyes watching every move I make. Bet they won’t be expecting that, will they? Although, they have no idea about the condo on the Upper West Side so when they kick me out, where will they have the car drop me off?

My entire body freezes at the idea that, holy shit, what if they take me to a bridge? Do people even live under the highways? I know the Red Hot Chili Peppers had a song about being in L.A. but I’m not getting a tent under the Manhattan Bridge, oh my God that would suck.

Well aware that my mind is spiraling and taking me down an uncomfortable dark road, I take in a deep breath and visualize the positive points and possible outcomes.

Who knows? Maybe the guys will take pity on me. At least give me enough time to find a place to live. After all, it’s their fault that I’m homeless.

Also, I’ll have to find a job that pays enough to cover rent in Manhattan and that, right there, is a feat in and of itself.

I hear Queens is nice, maybe even the Bronx. I could pay lower rent and get a job as a barista. Meanwhile, I’d send my resumé to every single production company in the country and beg for a job as an agent.

A sour chuckle escapes me as I shake my head. I should’ve been born in July because I’m the epitome of a summer child. Na?ve to the core and blind as a fucking bat.

If I could, I’d kill Mickey with my bare hands. When that woman called earlier to tell me they needed my signature to sell the condo, my entire life flipped across my mind like a bad Power Point presentation—bullet points and all.

“What the hell?” My attention turns to Hayes when he speaks, something in his tone grabs my attention.

“What’s going on?” No one answers my question and I’m pretty sure it’s because no one knows the answer to that.

Police cars are parked all around the building, yellow tape surrounding the entrance. It’s clear they’ve been here for a while since the firefighters are just leaving.

“It’s a crime scene.” Just as the words spill from between Orion’s lips, a gurney rolls out from the building toward the only ambulance on site. They’re taking their time and the body is covered in black.

“Oh my God.” My gasp is loud and I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the car was able to hear the staccato of my heart.

“Maybe someone had a heart attack?” I know for a fact that it can’t be true or else the yellow tape wouldn’t be there but I have to try, I have to find a different explanation to this horrible sight.

“Come on, let’s see what’s going on.” Hadley is the least affected among us until we speak to one of the officers.

“There’s been a murder, sir. Do you live in one of the apartments?” The young officer doesn’t look a day over twenty-five, yet he gives the impression that he’s not affected by the cruelty of the world.

“Yeah, penthouse.” Hayes takes the lead, stepping in front of Hadley and putting on his CEO face and erecting his impenetrable walls.

“Ah, you’re gonna need to talk to the detective.

One of the two penthouse apartments were robbed, too.

Detective Seawall will have more information for you.

” As he speaks, I look down and read the name tag.

Officer Valentino. It’s a great name, makes me think of roses and chocolates and Italian vacations.

“Stay here.” Hayes drops the command but none of us listen. We follow him as a unit when Officer Valentino raises the yellow tape. I’m no doubt in shock at this point and being left out of the loop would not end well for me.

Who died? And wait, someone broke into the apartment?

The obvious culprit that jumps at me is Mickey, except he’s not the type to kill, he’s a techy nerd who likes to live a comfortable life, not a murderer. Although, he did have me beaten and the guys he hangs out with are questionable, so who knows anymore? Not me, that’s for sure.

“Detective?” Hayes commands any situation and this is no different. When he calls out to the men and women standing in a circle, no doubt gathering information, everyone stops and looks at him.

One woman turns all the way around, annoyance written all over her features, and gives Hayes a sweep down with her hard gaze. It’s not lust, it’s a what-the-fuck-ism. “You can’t be here, it’s a secure area.” When her eyes scan the rest of us, she doesn’t even pretend to hide her eye roll.

“Who let the four stooges back here? It’s a damn crime scene.” This time she’s not speaking to us but to any of the officers outside the yellow tape.

“We live in the penthouse, we were told to come see you. What’s going on?”

“The short version is that Gary Wieneski was killed, his thumb hacked off, and penthouse One broken into. Is that yours?”

“I can’t believe Gary’s dead.” My voice is tiny and I’m well aware that I’ve repeated this statement at least five times.

It took four hours for the police to give us permission to go up to the apartment. It wasn’t the scene of the murder so they just wanted a low down of what was missing. They took our prints so they could exclude them from the investigation.

Detective Bauer said she’d be in touch if she needed more information and just like that, everyone packed up and left, leaving us in a disaster area.

“Lemme check the cameras.” My head snaps up, my eyes finding Hayes, and I can feel the accusations on the tip of my tongue.

“You have cameras inside?” I don’t know if I’m more afraid about myself or annoyed that he wouldn’t give that kind of evidence to the fucking police.

Hadley chuckles but it lacks his usual mirth. “Of course we do, Little Rabbit.”

“Why didn’t you tell Detective Bauer? She’d be able to solve the case.” Did Gary have a family? The thought makes me feel ashamed that I never had a proper conversation with him. How selfish am I? The man works at the door five days out of seven and I don’t even know if he has a wife or children.

Hayes doesn’t even bother answering me, just heads to the office, coming back seconds later with a tablet in hand.

“Hayes?” Every pair of eyes is on me and I’m guessing it has to do with the tone of my voice, the smallness of it, the desperation in it. “I think this is all my fault.”

Orion snorts, shaking his head. “I highly doubt you killed a man three times your size just to get up to the apartment where…you fucking live. Trust me, your troubles lie elsewhere, Sweetheart.” I’m taken aback by the harshness of his words. It doesn’t take a genius to understand he’s pissed off.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I don’t get an answer but Hayes curses on his end and Hadley throws a fit down the hall.

What the hell is going on?

“Bowie’s room is ten times worse than any other room.

It was personal.” Hadley’s got untamed fire dancing in his eyes and it has nothing to do with lust. Stalking to the bar—one of the rare things still standing—he grabs the decanter and four glasses that he slams onto the kitchen island.

“We’ll need to get a hotel tonight, have the cleaners take care of this shit tomorrow. ”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Hayes then looks at me and I’m relieved to see every emotion except hate in those deep blue eyes. At least not directed at me. “Come on, time to have that conversation now.”