“No, I’m an expert lock picker. Of course he did.” The door slamming followed her words. “What are you doing anyway? Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I’m not alone,” he said flatly.
“You’re not—oh! Oh, bollocks!”
Oh, bollocks indeed. I was apparently about to meet Ivan’s sister and the only clean item of clothing I had was panties.
Fanfuckingtastic.
“Mm,” Ivan said. “Give me a minute.” He walked back through the door and closed it behind him. He leaned against it and covered his eyes with his hand. “Shit. I am so sorry. I swear she said Sunday.”
“It’s okay,” I squeaked out.
No. It’s not. It’s not fucking okay. Not at all. I am not ready to meet any of his family I didn’t already know.
