It was the weekend.
The chaos of the carnival had faded into the background, almost like a distant memory. Life had begun to return to normal—at least, as normal as it could get around here.
Ezra entered the room for the third time that day, his steps purposeful as he headed straight for the bathroom—only to find it still locked. His eyes narrowed, jaw tightening slightly as he strained to keep his composure. The sound of running water confirmed it—she was still in there.
"How many more hours do you plan to spend in there, huh?" he called out.
Evie had slipped into the bathroom that morning and hadn't emerged since. He couldn't for the life of him understand what she was doing. Sure, women took their time—he'd accepted that. But this? This was excessive. She was pushing every ounce of his patience.
"Just a few more minutes!" came her voice from inside. She was carefully shaving her legs, dragging the blade with precision to avoid nicks.
Ezra let out a breath. "That's what you said the last two times I came in here. Remember?"
He was beginning to regret not going in there first. If he had, he could've been done in minutes and left her to take all the time in the world.
"I'm sorry—really. Just a few more minutes," Evie replied. Today was a girls' day out, and that meant her full self-care routine—shaving, exfoliating, scrubbing, everything. But Ezra wouldn't understand that.
"You've got ten minutes," Ezra warned, his tone sharp and unwavering. "If you're not out by then, I'm coming in. And we'll take that bath together."
"What?" she choked out. Either she hadn't heard him clearly—or was pretending not to.
"You heard me. Ten minutes," he repeated, voice like a threat cloaked in silk.
A shiver ran down her spine. She scrambled to finish, but the real problem was—her routine wasn't meant to be rushed. It was a slow, pampering process.
"Why don't you use another bathroom?" she called out, clinging to a last sliver of hope.
Ezra clenched his jaw. "Because this one is mine?" he demanded, voice low and sharp.
Oops. Evie blinked, realizing her mistake just as she finished shaving her legs.
"You've got eight minutes," he called again, this time walking away from the bathroom after hearing the shower turn on.
Silence followed. Ezra sat on the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the wall in front of him. He could've stormed in—he wanted to—but he didn't. The threat had been just that: a threat. Still, the longer he waited, the more his patience frayed.
Eight minutes passed. Then ten. Maybe even more. And yet, he remained there.
Finally, the water stopped. Silence returned. He straightened slightly at the sound of the door creaking open.
Evie peeked her head through the crack, her gaze immediately meeting his—and freezing.
Ezra's expression was unreadable, but the irritation in his eyes was impossible to miss. Her heart jumped, and she quickly retreated, shutting the door again as panic set in. She exhaled deeply, pressing her back to the wood.
Why did he have to be sitting right there? Right in front of the door? There was no way she could just waltz out in a towel. The very idea turned her cheeks a warm shade of red.
She hoped—prayed—he'd take the hint and step out.
But then she remembered: this was his room too. And unfortunately, he also needed the bathroom.
Of course, he wasn't going anywhere.
She had to walk out like that—and so what if he saw her in a towel? Her skin was freshly washed, smooth, glowing, droplets of water still trailing down her body. Her hair clung to her damp skin, and her lips glistened. So what if he saw her like that? It wasn't as if he'd never seen a woman before. The towel covered her well enough—from her chest down to her upper thighs. That was decent enough.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door—only to freeze when she saw him standing there. Evie blinked, startled. "I... I'm done," she said, her voice barely steady.
His gaze remained fixed—not roaming as she had irrationally feared. She was the only one overthinking it. Ezra wasn't interested. Her nerves were playing tricks on her.
"Good. Excuse me," he said curtly. Then, to her surprise, he gently nudged past her and stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him without another word.
Evie stood there, stunned, then quickly turned to finish dressing, brushing off the moment.
Inside the bathroom, Ezra scanned the space—and immediately regretted it. The floor was soaked, hair strands scattered like some kind of domestic crime scene.
God, if Shane hadn't barged into their lives, none of this would be happening. He wouldn't have to share his space—especially not with a woman like Evie. He wouldn't be forced to deal with this chaos.
*
Evie didn't waste any time after Ruby texted her to come over quickly. She quickly changed into her casual clothes and grabbed her makeup bag, planning to finish getting ready at Ruby's place before their girls' outing. She scribbled a note for Ezra: "I won't be back today, but I'll return after the weekend. If you need anything, text me." With that, she left the note on the bed.
Her blue eyes narrowed at the briefcase resting there, her eyebrows knitting together. When had she left it there? It didn't matter; she picked it up and hurried out of the room, dashing down the staircase and exchanging a brief greeting with Sam, the butler, before she exited the house.
When Ezra emerged from the shower, still irritated and drying his hair with a towel, he made his way to the bed and spotted the note she had left. He scoffed, reasoning it was for the best.
At that moment, he didn't want to deal with her due to the mess in the bathroom, and thankfully, she had slipped out before he could express his frustrations. After managing to dress, Ezra's dark eyes drifted back to the bed, where he realized the briefcase he thought he had left was missing. "I left it here," he muttered to himself, scanning the room until he finally spotted it in the corner. Did Evie move it?
Just what he needed—another annoyance to deal with, he thought grimly, before leaving the house.
****
Ezra found himself in the VIP section of a hotel, seated on the balcony with his eyes narrowed towards the ocean. He sipped his drink, his expression blank.
Just then, the client he had been waiting for walked in, accompanied by bodyguards. "I apologize for the delay," the elderly man said as he entered.
Ezra stood up and greeted him with a firm handshake. "Not a problem. I wasn't waiting long," he replied before they both took their seats.
The client sighed. "I didn't think you'd work on weekends. I was a bit skeptical about this arrangement," he admitted.
Ezra smirked slightly. "Yet here we are," he said, pushing aside thoughts of home that were weighing him down. Shane had gone jogging this morning, and Evie had left for her girls' outing, telling him not to expect her back until the weekend was over. Whatever—he had an escape, and now it was time to focus. "Shall we get started?" he prompted.
"Absolutely," the man chuckled, as his wine was poured.
Ezra opened his briefcase, expecting files, a laptop, and some documents. Instead, he was met with…
Panties, bras, bikinis, and other unexpected feminine items.
His eyes darkened. "Fucking Evie,"