The Note Natalie Wrye (interesting books to read TXT) 📖

lasts for a lifetime. Or at least the memories do.”

“Yeah,” I shrug, shoving my hands into my jeans pockets. “At least until the shiny exterior wears off. And then the divorce lasts forever. So does the heartbreak. The alimony. And the awful crystal stemware you never use in the first place. Not to mention those extra invitations that never make it to your wife’s cousin’s grandfather’s rabbi. Because somehow you got roped into inviting him too. Even though your would-be wife hasn’t seen him since she was thirteen.”

Jase glowers. “You’ll have to excuse my brother, Seraphine. Noah doesn’t really believe in marriage.”

The petite blonde tailor gasps at me—as if someone told her Santa wasn’t real.

I shake my head.

“I don’t think there’s anything to ‘believe in.’ Truth is, to me: Marriage isn’t something you believe in or not.” I shrug, turning my attention to the little tailor. “All that matters is whether or not the two people signing up for that type of bond have faith in it. And Jase and Mindy seem to.”

Jase hovers. “We ‘seem’ to, huh?”

But I’m not ready to have this fight. Not right now.

After showing up drunk to Jase’s engagement party the night of my father’s funeral, the itch to argue with my older brother is stronger than ever.

But without any leads on new deals to save Quinn Real Estate Group, I don’t have the patience to sit here and take his wrath. My nerves are already sitting on edge.

As always, making sure Grandfather Quinn’s legacy stays intact is a task sitting on my shoulders alone, and the thought of Chris Jackson— a man who once sat at our tables, broke bread at our dinners, shook hands in our offices—committing murder is enough to drive a man insane.

The biggest issue? That man was now me.

Fighting my hardheaded brother aside, it took a crazy, out-of-his-mind bastard to leave the beautiful woman I’d just left behind in bed alone. The sharp-tongued brunette I’d exited the bar with last night was still under my sheets, sleeping off a night of tequila. And I would be damned if I wasn’t there when she awoke.

But first things first.

I’ve got to tell Jase about Chris Jackson.

I open my mouth to do just that when my cell phone interrupts, cutting the rising tension in the air.

With a quick apology, I stroll several steps away, picking up the phone, expecting to hear my new PI’s voice, still active on the Chris Jackson case, when the sound of sniffling, soft and almost inaudible, reaches the inside of my ear.

I grip my phone closer as the feminine voice speaks, the mewling sounds slowly turning into words. My body stills, recognition making my formerly hot blood turn cold.

I lean into the speaker on my cell. “Maria? Is that you?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Quinn.” My cleaning lady sniffs quietly on the other end. “It’s me, sir. I’m here in your apartment for my morning clean-up. Like every Saturday morning.”

Was it Saturday morning already?

I almost forgot.

I hadn’t been to my New York apartment in months. Long enough to forget that my weekly cleaning was today.

Maria, true to form, was there every Saturday morning, usually to pick up after whatever cum-covered fiasco Lachlan had thrown the previous night. Only this time?

It was my mess Maria had to clean up, the mess being the probably still-drunken vixen under my sheets.

I curse to myself, stepping even farther away from Jase to talk, a knot solidifying under my Adam’s apple. I take a huge gulp of air.

“Shit, Maria. I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you that there would be a guest there. If you could do me a favor? Just leave the bedroom alone.” I hesitate. “I’ll take care of that little room myself when I get back.”

But Maria doesn’t listen. She’s too busy, silently crying to understand a word I’m saying. She sniffs heavily again, her soft sobs confusing me as she speaks. I can barely hear her.

“I just want you to know, Mr. Quinn, that I would never steal from you. Ever.”

“I know that, Maria.” Confusion tugs inside my gut. “I know that… Now, why are you telling me this? Is something missing?”

“I think so, Mr. Quinn. The box was empty when I arrived. You have to know that. And the note was on already there on the floor.”

“What box? And what the fuck… What note?”

But the chill in my blood is already ice-cold the second I ask the question, my veins already Arctic. Instinctively, I almost know which one she’s talking about, and with those few words, my memory jogs almost instantly.

My bedroom. A box.

The only item in it of any value to me…

It can’t be. It just can’t be. She wouldn’t.

Or would she?

“The box in the nightstand, Mr. Quinn.” Maria blubbers, her quiet hysteria bubbling over. “The one stashed behind it. When I arrived here, the back of the nightstand was broken. And the box was empty. And the sheets were a mess.”

Another unlikely scenario.

No matter what party Lachlan had thrown the night before, my bedroom was off-limits. Not sometimes.

Always.

I knew that. Maria knew it.

All of Times Square probably knew it, too.

Off-limits.

Except for last night.

Last night was the first time I’d let someone who wasn’t me inside of it. Last night was the first time I’d left someone alone in it.

I was a man who enjoyed his privacy. A man who made his bed every morning.

And a man who’d just left a stranger in it.

I clutch the phone hard enough to crush it, anger making my fingers tingle. I ask the one question I already know the answer to, and suddenly seeking out new options to save my company with Jase’s help is the last thought on my mind.

Because I just screwed up option numero uno.

My Little Bear had opened the secret compartment in my nightstand. My Little Bear had seen what was inside.

My Little Bear has found the place I’d forgotten had existed in the damned contraption and had taken out its contents.

Its very valuable, indispensable, irreplaceable contents.

A