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Okay, maybe she never stopped keeping loose tabs on Leon’s whereabouts after their divorce. They may have broken up, but Ada still cared about him. Still loved him, even though she knew there was no way she’d ever be able to regain his trust and affection after everything she’d done.
And okay, maybe she was literally breaking into his house, bypassing his security system and resetting it behind her… but in her defence, there was likely nowhere safer for her to be while in the states and hiding out from a contract gone wrong.
Honestly, people hiring mercenaries had no class anymore. She couldn’t even refuse to give nuclear launch codes to some dictator anymore without them sending assassins after her.
Leon had set up his house like a fortress, and it was in the middle of nowhere. Her pursuers would be hard-pressed to find her out here, at least for a couple of days, and she’d be able to catch her breath and plot her way out of this mess at the same time.
Ada went in quietly, by habit rather than any worry of causing a ruckus. According to his official schedule, courtesy of a contact within DSO, he’s supposed to be investigating a case in Southern France at the moment and would be gone for at least a week.
Latching the back door behind her, Ada toes off her heels and leaves them where they fall. Had she still lived here, she wouldn’t have bothered removing them. But the sound of them was now too harsh on the hardwood floors.
The house was a modern log cabin, thankfully not the dilapidated farmhouse she had expected all those years ago when Leon had invited her to move in with him.
It was still as warm and well-maintained as ever, and Ada was certain Leon still used the same housekeeping service he had for the last twenty years. Ada navigated the house in the dark, heading for the kitchen, itching for a coffee.
The light above the stove was on, and a candle flickered low on the big island that dominated the room.
Ada froze.
If Leon wasn’t home, why was there a candle left burning?
The new girlfriend?
Ada didn’t know much about her beyond her name, position with the FBI, and the fact that her mother had been murdered when she was fourteen.
Was she living with Leon?
Ada may have fucked up.
The point of hiding out here while Leon was out of the country was for her to avoid scrutiny. If Grace Ashcroft were home, Ada would have a lot of explaining to do.
And let’s be real, the new girlfriend isn’t going to want the ex-wife invading what was now her space.
Ada blew out the candle and walked around the island to the stairs up to the second floor.
Maybe Grace was just a scatterbrain and left a candle burning before she went back to her place.
Or maybe Leon’s schedule was wrong.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Ada looked over the edge of the balcony, and saw signs of recent activity that she hadn’t noticed before when she thought Leon was gone.
An empty bowl on the coffee table that had some popcorn kernels sitting on the bottom. A hand-knit blanket strewn across the middle of the couch like two people had been wrapped up in it. A pair of glasses on the arm of the couch beside the remote for the television. A phone tossed forgotten on one cushion.
Ada closes her eyes, more annoyed than she’d like to admit at the visible domesticity.
They weren’t married anymore…but she doesn’t recall many lazy nights in front of the TV when they had been.
Ada moves down the balcony, toward the master bedroom.
A giggle reaches her ears.
A soft moan.
Leon’s voice, low and husky.
Seems our loving couple was having a late night of pleasure after their lazy evening watching movies.
Ada doesn’t know what compels her in that moment, but she sees the door is ajar and moves to press her eye to the crack.
She bites her lip. Knows she should look away. Go back out the way she came in and find a different safe house.
The bedroom is lit by the fire crackling in the fireplace on the far wall. The dancing, orange light caressing the tanned, toned lines of Leon’s back. A delicate, pale hand grips his shoulder, neat nails biting into his skin. A pale leg is hooked over one of his arms.
He’s moving in a way Ada remembers well and still dreams about with a vividness that haunts her.
He whispers something, and Ada misses it as Grace gasps. And his hips snap, and Grace whimpers and Ada grows hot.
And realizes, oh, she’s being a fucking voyuer right now and she needs to leave and watching her ex-husband fuck another woman should not have got her so aroused. She spins on her heels and retraces her path to the back door, leaving without a trace.
She thinks.
Leon glances over his shoulder at the door and frowns. It was open more than they’d left it. He blinks, thinking he should go and check the house.
“Leon?”
He looks down. Grace tilts her head, short blonde curls rasping on the soft cotton of the pillow case, her chest heaving, breasts and belly gleaming with a healthy glow of sweat, her pretty lips parted with her panting breaths.
Was he just thinking of leaving to go check the house?
Leave Grace? Like this?
What was he, a monster?
“It’s nothing,” he says, letting go of her leg, leaning his body over her to kiss her, smiling against her mouth when she makes a contented noise, wrapping her legs around his waist.
Let the security system do its damn job. Leon wasn’t leaving this bed until morning.