carefully laid plans had gone up in flames. Mitchell could suck the air out of any sail. She shouldnât be surprised. Sheâd known he wouldnât be pleased. But sheâd obviously placed too much importance on the father-daughter relationship and the mistaken assumption that he wanted her to be happy. She should have learned from her mother; the only person Mitchell wanted to be happy was Mitchell.
She just wanted to go home and curl up in a ball and forget this day had ever happened, and she was just about to hail a cab when she remembered: the hunky guy was at her place. She did
not
want to go home and lick her wounds with his derisive sneer following her around.
Sighing, she looked around. She didnât feel like grabbing a latte, and spending Mitchellâs money was the last thing on her list of things she wanted to do. Okay, second to last. Hunky maid guy was last. Actually, he
could
be on her list of things to
do
, but her father would go into orbit if she canoodled with
the help
.
Hmmm . . . Actually, thatâd be the perfect reason
to
do it.
Except she wasnât a user like Mitchell. Well, not anymore.
Sighing, Cassidy turned left and started to walk. Maybe some air would clear her head. The park was this way. At worst, she could spend a few hours tossing coins into the fountain. Mitchellâs money would do more people good that way.
Chapter Four
L IAM swiped his forearm across his forehead, but that was futile. His arm was just as sweaty as his forehead. Hell, as the entire rest of him. The AC was cranking in this place yet he was still sweating bullets. That was because of all the damn nooks and crannies that made the millwork something to be envied by everyone except the person charged with cleaning it. He was going to have to talk to Mac about Sharonâs lack of cleaning. Though, to be fair, climbing twelve-foot ladders
did
pose certain health risks to pregnant women. Still, maybe Mac could add a specialty line to her services for items beyond the norm. And this place was definitely beyond the norm.
Heâd tried not to be impressed, but it was hard not to, from the seamless piece of granite thatâd been carved for the kitchen counter, to the see-through fireplace between the living room and dining room, to the architectural wonder that was the balcony. Heâd almost taken a header over the railing trying to see the suspension. Mitchell Davenport was a leader in the industry for a reason, and as much as Liam hated that Cassidy was living off her fatherâs spoils, he was thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to see one of the flagship properties up close and personal. The fact that he had to clean the other condo on this floor when he was finished in here so Davenport could put it up for sale just meant heâd have more inspiration for his own growing business.
Walking back into the living room, Liam closed the French doors. They, too, were an engineering marvel, swinging easily with the touch of a finger and latching without a sound. The glass was tempered yet crystal clear in a way heâd never seen. The doors probably cost about as much as heâd made last year, and there were three sets of them in this place.
The froufrou dog pranced on her hind legs when he walked back in
.
Put a tutu on it and Cassidy would have a circus act. âSorry, nugget, but she put you in there for a reason and since I just cleaned this place, Iâm not letting you out to mess it up. Still, I guess you could use a treat or something for not barking my ears off.â
He went into the kitchen to search for some treats and got a shock. The insides of the cabinets were a mess, a jumble of empty plastic containers, canned food, paper products, and dog food, a direct contrast to the rest of the place. Even the frothy negligee on the floor in her bedroom was neat compared to this. The woman had a lot of repressed messiness.
I wouldnât mind getting messy with
Learning to Kill: Stories