Trapped with Mr. Walker
: Chapter 3

I LAUGH A DEEP belly laugh as the raccoon on my phone screen freezes like a statue, standing on his hind legs.

“Um, Miss. Distracted? These things aren’t going to pack themselves,” Suze calls from across the living room, where she’s folding up my favorite snuggly blanket I like to keep on the couch for when I’m watching TV.

“All right.” I laugh as I tear my eyes away from the video on my phone and drop it down onto the couch.

“Did you want to pack this?” Maria holds up my sloth mug that I placed out on the counter before they arrived to help me pack.

“Yes. I need that. It’s my special mug.”

“I’ve never seen you drink out of it.” Suze wrinkles her nose as she looks over at Maria, who’s holding it up with a puzzled expression on her face as she studies the cartoon sloth wearing pink pajamas.

“I don’t. It’s my special mug… you know?”

I look between their blank faces and let out a sigh. “It’s the one I sterilize my menstrual cup in.”

Suze’s eyebrows shoot up, and Maria carefully wraps the mug in a sheet of tissue paper and places it in a box.

“What? It’s got to be done. It’s not like the cup can go in the dishwasher.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Suze holds up her hands.

“No, you were just wondering if you’d ever been given a drink in it.” Maria laughs.

“Exactly.” Suze nods, pointing at her.

“Neither of you has, okay? Sloth knows his reason in life, and it is not for beverages,” I say as I carefully fold and pack my pajamas into the open case on the floor.

“I’m really happy you’ll be living so close.” Maria smiles.

She and Griffin live in the top floor penthouse of The Songbird private residences. They have the entire floor to themselves with an amazing roof garden and helipad. But despite Griffin’s billionaire wealth, and Maria’s thriving spa supply business, she’s so down to earth. I was so happy when she moved to New York. Until that point, I only had Suze and Will as close friends. Not that I’m complaining, they’re awesome. But it’s so nice to make another friend, someone you just click with. Especially now that Will has followed his heart and moved to Paris with his boyfriend, Fraser.

“I know,” I say. “I’ll be able to come up for breakfast with you before work. And we can get dinner together and watch movies at your place. I can wear my pajamas up in the elevator!” I grin as I plan it all out in my head.

“What about Reed?” Suze asks.

“What about him?” I close the lid of the suitcase and zip it up.

“What will he be doing while his ‘girlfriend’ is out of the apartment as much as possible?”

“I dunno.” I shrug. “Whatever it is he usually does… except that,” I add as I see them both look at one another. “He told me while I’m playing house with him, he won’t be seeing anyone. The same goes for me. It has to look real.”

“Okaaay,” Suze says, not sounding at all convinced. She’s probably more jaded than me about men’s behavior since her husband cheated on her with his secretary. It’s how we met. She suspected he was cheating but needed hard evidence to force herself to accept it, so she contacted the agency who sent me.

I have a secret camera concealed in my purse to collect the evidence. Then, after the trap, they invite the client into the head office to view the footage. Suze ignored that part. She needed to see it in person, so she hid in the bar where I met her ex—father of her two kids—Curt. Afterward, she approached me, and we ended up having the best night. We talked, laughed, and danced for hours. We’ve been friends ever since.

“I’m sure even Reed can keep it in his pants if his career depends on it,” I murmur as I look around the room for anything I might have missed. I’m going to sub-let my apartment to a sweet girl from the housekeeping team at The Songbird. She just broke up with her girlfriend and needed somewhere fast and short-term to stay. It means I can leave my furniture and books, and things like that, behind, and only pack the essentials.

“Yes. He’s very dedicated when it comes to work. Griffin said it’s the only thing he was passionate about growing up.”

“Don’t try and make him sound human,” I say to Maria as I slip into the bedroom to grab my slippers.

“I’m pretty sure he is, in fact, human.” Maria chuckles as I walk back into the main living and kitchen area and scowl at her.

“If he’s not, he must be one of those frisky aliens with the incredible twin dicks people read about,” Suze chimes in, looking at Maria. “If the sounds you used to hear through the wall are anything to go by.”

I grumble to myself as I unzip my case and squish my slippers inside. Despite Reed’s sexual escapades providing a source of amusement to our girls’ get togethers in the past, I’m not in the mood to hear about them again right now.

Not when I’m about to live with him for the foreseeable future.

“Twin dick or not, he’s still…” I search for the right words.

“Hot?” Suze offers.

“Great at his job?” Maria counters.

“A walking billboard for why women are choosing not to get married and get a pet instead,” I huff as I sit on my case to force it shut.

I mean, he’s ridiculous. Maybe he is good at his job, like Maria says. But it doesn’t alter the fact that he’s as shallow as a puddle. As far as I know, he’s never spent longer than a weekend with the same woman, let alone had a serious girlfriend.

“Hey, I’m not going to argue with you about the marriage thing.” Suze sighs, then looks at Maria. “You’re happy with that delectable man of yours, Maria. Cover your ears and don’t listen to me. Griffin’s, well… Griffin. And quite frankly, he’s giving me hope that there are still decent men out there.”

I walk over to Suze and wrap my arm around her. Maria comes to join us as I hold out my other arm.

“There are decent men out there. Ones who don’t cheat. And don’t have a bedpost so notched it resembles a matchstick,” I add as Maria opens her mouth, no doubt to defend Reed. “Ones like Griffin and my older brother, Brett. They show up the rest of the male population just by existing.”

I mean every word. Even though honey trapping work shows me the ugly side of people, deep down I still cling to dreams of that little girl who grew up watching Disney, believing in true love. I think if it weren’t for my brother, Brett, and how selfless he is, then I wouldn’t believe it. He would give anything for me and my sister, Rose. Literally anything. Even his own life. He’s always been that way as long as I can remember. Maybe it goes with the territory of being the oldest.

I look around my tiny apartment and smile. We’ve finished almost all the packing.

“Talking of men, I have the perfect ones for us now that we’re nearly done.” I walk over to the freezer and pull out three tubs, grinning. “Here’s to Ben and Jerry.”

“What are you doing?” Reed quirks his brow at me, his head tilted to one side as I look back over my shoulder at him across the hallway.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m pruning Bruce.”

I turn my attention back to my Bonsai tree, which I’ve given pride of place on the entryway table. Reed was using it to just throw his wallet and key card down on, but a spot like this, the first thing you see as you walk into the penthouse, deserves something special.

It deserves Bruce.

“Bruce? You named it?” Reed walks toward me, bringing the magic potion of his cologne with him.

“Please do not bring negative energy into Bruce’s space,” I reply as I gently snip a browning leaf off with a pair of nail scissors, leaning in close to get a good cut.

“You know it’s a tree, right?” Reed leans down next to me, his eyes on Bruce as I carefully snip another leaf.

“Haven’t you seen those experiments where people bully one plant and are kind to another? The one that they’re kind to thrives, but the bullied one goes all sad and brown and withers.” I chew my bottom lip as I recall how upset it made me to see that bullied plant on the internet clip.

“I must have missed that segment on CNN.” Amusement laces his voice. “Anyway, how exactly do you bully a plant?”

“You know, say mean things to it, and be unkind.” I pick up my spray bottle and give Bruce a good mist.

Reed straightens up but stays standing close enough that I can hear the gentle inhale of each breath he takes.

“You’re looking mighty fine, Bruce. Keep on producing wood like that and all the women will be shaking their leaves at you.”

I turn just in time to see the smirk on Reed’s stupidly handsome face as he moves away, taking the heat from his body with him.

“Let me know if you need to borrow my scissors anytime,” I call after him. “They’re really good with tiny branches.”

He chuckles as he heads off into the apartment.

Our apartment.

I need to get used to saying that. It’s been a strange couple of days. He wasn’t here the first evening I moved in. He was out doing some campaigning somewhere, and by the time I heard him come in, I was already in bed. Although he left me a new home card addressed to ‘Mrs. Walker’. I swear he actually believes he’s funny. It’s a good job he isn’t running for the role of comedian instead of mayor.

Tonight is our second night, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him. I preferred having that bit of time here alone, if I’m honest. It gave me time to snoop. I’ve been in this penthouse before. Even though I work in the hotel side of The Songbird, I still come into the residences frequently to see Maria. And I help arrange stays for Griffin’s family and friends when they visit and aren’t going to stay in the hotel.

The apartment is furnished with sweeping city views from its corner position. It’s breathtaking up here. And luckily, it has four bedrooms. All with private showers. Which means that Reed and I don’t have the awkward morning walk to the bathroom to contend with.

I peeked into his room earlier. I couldn’t help it. The only things of his around the furnished living space are some political looking documents and a pair of reading glasses, which I’ve never seen him wear. It was hardly enough to work out whether I’ve unknowingly shacked up with a serial killer or not. His bedroom, on the other hand, from the small peek I had from the doorway, was an Aladdin’s cave for clues about the real Reed Walker.

Everything was neat and orderly, which matches his professional personality. But it was the acoustic guitar and photos that interested me the most. I have never once heard him mention he plays guitar. Maybe he doesn’t, and it’s just a décor thing. Like those people who have grand pianos because they look amazing, but they can’t even play chopsticks on them. And the photos were sweet. His parents and grandparents, I assume, judging by the resemblance. And there was one of him with a woman with long, flowing chestnut brown hair and gray eyes. I’m assuming his twin sister, who he’s mentioned in passing before.

Afterward, I felt a little guilty for looking. But he left the door open, and I have to walk past his room on the way to mine, so I wasn’t really poking around. And besides, it’s made me feel a little better about this weird situation. I was starting to wonder what the hell I had agreed to when I was unpacking my things.

“Harley?” Reed calls from the living area. “Where are all these pink strands coming from? Don’t tell me you’ve got a cotton plant called Colin somewhere that needs to be told what a good fluffer he is in order not to de-pot himself.”

I snort out a laugh as I head into the vast living space in search of him. My step falters as I round the corner and see him sitting on the large sectional couch with his glasses on.

Thick, dark frames, below thick waves of rich brown hair.

It’s definitely a step up from my previous neighbor at my apartment, who used to go down the hallway to collect his mail in just his robe, which would miraculously unfasten itself on far too many occasions.

“Oh, these?” He smiles as he sees me looking and then takes them off and rubs his eyes. “I wear them when I’m doing a lot of reading.”

“More policies?” I sink down next to him on the light beige seat and glance over at the paperwork. The words ‘Sexual Assault’ jump out at me.

“Yeah. Always more to read up on.” He shuffles the papers, moving them to the side, and then holds up a tuft of pink between his fingers. One of the threads is glittery.

“They’re going to be bald soon, I swear.” I tut as I reach around the side of the sofa and grab my slippers, giving them a shake in the air. More pink and glittery strands fly out, floating in the air for a beat before clinging to Reed’s suit pants.

“It looks like you killed the pink panther.”

I laugh as I slide my feet into them and let out a delighted sigh.

“They might be a bit bright,” I say as I look down at my fluffy feet. “But they’re so warm.”

“Harley. It’s not even winter. And we have heating if you need it.”

We have heating.

The way he says it so casually has me sitting forward on the edge of the seat. I suppose we are a ‘we’ to the outside world. Well, we will be once I start making public appearances with Reed and our ‘relationship’ becomes public knowledge. But in here, where it’s just the two of us? We sends all sorts of weird sensations rushing around my body.

Me and Reed Walker a ‘we’?

Nope. No way. It’s only pretend.

“I think I’ll just keep my slippers, thanks,” I say as I get up. “I’m going to meet Suze for dinner tonight. She’s got a rare night off as Curt is taking the kids out, so we intend to make the most of it and try out a new Thai restaurant we’ve been wanting to visit.”

Reed chuckles. Even that is deep and smooth, like his voice. “Have a nice night with Suze.”

“Thanks, I will—” I turn back, and he’s put his glasses on again. His dark brows furrow as he reads the paperwork in his hand. His shirt sleeves are rolled up his forearms, showing tanned skin and prominent veins. I swallow down a weird fluttering in my stomach.

He glances up and locks eyes with me. A second or two passes, and neither of us says anything. I stare back and heat swirls low in my core.

No, you don’t, Harley.

This is not good. I cannot develop something akin to Stockholm syndrome while I am here with him. It’s for the cameras only. It’s all for show. His dick has seen more pussy than a gynecologist. Something I need to remember.

“Can you come out with me Friday? There’s a dinner I need to attend. It’ll likely be full of stuffy, boring people trying to show off who is richer. But I need to show my face,” he says finally, his eyes dropping to my bright pink feet as the corners of his mouth curl up.

“Sure. First public act. Wouldn’t miss it.”

He looks back to my face, the corners of his eyes creasing slightly behind his glasses.

“Good.” He nods. “Glad to hear it.”

I turn and head off to my room.

I don’t do things by half. He said he needed a convincing fake girlfriend and I intend to be exactly that; stuffy, boring dinners or not. Frankly, it beats chasing down leery married men any day. And I can live with Reed. Minus the man-whoring, he’s got the potential to be a great roomie. He’s tidy and quiet. The apartment is immaculate and smells of his unique cologne, and so far, all I’ve seen him do is read.

With those glasses on.

This is going to be the easiest four thousand dollars a month ever.