Page 8 of Stripped

Chapter 6

Wraith was surprised to find her up. With the way she drank last night, she should still be passed out. "You don't remember me bringing you home last night?" He knew she wouldn't, but she didn't know that, and it would help with his story.

She put her hand to her forehead, trying to think. "No. Fuck." She shook her head. "You need to leave."

"I don't even get a thank you?" he teased.

"Now!" She picked up her phone. "Or I'll call the police."

"Look, I'm not the enemy," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Do you really not remember last night?"

"No, I don't fucking remember last night. I hope it was good for you." She looked him up and down, scowling. "Get out."

"It was nothing like that. I told you, I'm not into little girls." Her seafoam green eyes narrowed at his remark, cold as arctic ice. "But your director seems to be."

"You don't know my director. And who the fuck cares. You can go." She couldn't be more than ninety-five pounds, but she threw her weight around like she was his size. "Now!"

"I watched him drug your drink while you were in the restroom."

"You're lying."

"Why would I lie? I switched them, so he would take it. I guarantee you he's not up yet and won't be for a while."

She rubbed her hands over her face, taking a deep breath. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Truth." He cocked his head, looking at her, hoping she would calm down. "I work for your grandfather."

"Work for my grandfather? And what, you thought it would be fun to see if you could sleep with his granddaughter?" She pushed past him, going into the kitchen. "In case you haven't heard, my grandfather is dead. It won't buy you any bonus points."

He watched as she filled up an insulated water bottle and shoved it into a large duffle bag by the couch. "I'm a private investigator," he said. "Your grandfather hired me because he thought someone within his company or inner circle was trying to undermine him."

She sat down on the couch, the expression on her face turning to stone as she began to take off her pointe shoes. "Why would I believe you?"

"I'm not lying to you, Primrose."

She put the shoes into the duffle. "Are you trying to tell me that someone killed my grandfather and he didn't fall?" He didn't miss the slight tremble in her voice as she tied the laces on her trainers.

"I'm trying to figure that out."

She stood up and grabbed her coat from the sofa, put it on, then picked up the duffle bag. "Well, you're not a very good investigator if you let someone murder my grandfather." She opened her front door and stood there waiting for him to leave.

He grabbed his suit jacket and followed her out.

"Where are you going?" he asked as she locked the door and started down the stairs.

"None of your bloody business, arsehole."

"Primrose, I want to help you. Your grandfather was worried about your safety too."

"Really, because he never mentioned that to me, and regardless, I can take care of myself."

"I thought you had a few days off work?"

She stopped walking and turned around. "How would you know that? Are you some kind of sick stalker? That's it, you're stalking me. First, the ballet, then the bar, now my flat."

Damn Alex to hell for putting him in this position. Stalker? "No, I told you what I do. I overheard your director talking about it last night."

She continued down the street.