Chapter 4: Hand Wash Only

Tobin stared at our linked hands.

Then he stared at his brother's face, and then he stared at my hair.

"Where have you two been?" he said. "I called you all night."

"You called me," Anders said evenly. "I had the phone face down."

"My own phone drowned. It went in a sink." Tobin held up the plastic bag. "Do you know what the hotel charges to dry a phone?"

"What is in the bag?" I asked.

"Laundry."

"Yours?"

"Not exactly."

The elevator beside us opened again, and a woman in a satin robe walked out with a cup of coffee and a ring light under one arm.

She was honey-blonde and flawless, and she looked at me with huge, warm eyes.

"You must be Leonie!" she said, and hugged me with one arm. "I'm Bree. I'm an old friend of Tobin's. I just love your dress."

It was still in a heap in the penthouse, but I let that go.

"Thank you," I said. "I got your texts."

Her smile held, but it took a second.

"Tobe," she said, and handed him a folded paper. "You missed some."

He took it with his free hand.

I could read it over his arm. It said: Delicates, cold water, hand wash ONLY. No wringing. Dry flat. Silk separately. Do not use the hotel soap.

Anders read it too, and I watched him decide not to say anything.

"You're doing her underwear," I said to Tobin.

"I'm helping," Tobin said.

"In a sink."

"The hotel laundry closed at ten. Bree has very specific needs."

"Two hours?" I said.

"Three. The silk ones take longer."

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