MAVERICK
I’d been trying to concentrate on studying since I got my books from my apartment, but I got distracted by Homer.
“Ma’am, you can’t get in there. I told you Mr. Winston is not here.”
I should have just studied in my room, but the view behind the window was spectacular.
“Then why are you here?” a woman asked, sounding pissed.
I turned my head, about to stand up from the couch when I recognized that face—the beautiful blonde model.
Shit. I thought she didn’t have access to Lake’s penthouse. Right now, I wanted to flee and disappear. Lake’s personal life was not my business, and it was clearly stated in the agreement.
“I can call the security, and I’m allowed to apprehend you if you make any disturbance or create a scene. This penthouse is private property, and my employer can sue you for trespassing. I’m warning you, Miss Wise.”