Fake Empire(75)

I exhale, relieved. “Okay.”

The form is basic. I fill out all the sections, leaving the one on former pets blank. I hand the clipboard back, watching as the woman scans it over. “There’s a two hundred dollar adoption fee,” she informs me.

“You take donations?”

“Yes.”

I pull my checkbook out of my handbag and write a check before handing it to her. The woman’s eyebrows fly upward as she reads the amount. “Lucky dog.” Her cheeks flush, making me think she didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Can I take him tonight?”

“Yeah. Let me grab him.”

She disappears into the back, leaving me alone in the small lobby. I panic a little, looking at all the pamphlets. I know absolutely nothing about dogs. Barking sounds from behind the door. The woman reappears, holding Goldie. She sets him down, and he bounds over to me, tail wagging.

I scoop him up, letting him lick my face. That seems to pass muster, because the woman’s expression is softer when she hands me a folder. “Here are all the papers. His medical history. Vaccination schedule. Training tips. Veterinarian suggestions. Any questions, just call here. He’s already had dinner. Feeding amounts and times are in there as well.”

I take the folder from her. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Congratulations. He’s a sweetheart. I was dreading the pickup tomorrow.”

I look down at the puppy snuggled in my arms. “Thanks.”

“I read Haute.”

When I look up, she’s smiling sheepishly.

“Before and after you bought it. It’s really impressive what you’ve done with it.”

I smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Then I turn and head back outside. Eric steps out to open the door. His eyes widen as he takes in the dog, but he doesn’t comment. Just asks where the next stop is.

Goldie thoroughly explores the backseat as we drive back to the penthouse. I look through the folder, feeling overwhelmed by the amount of information. I don’t even know if Crew likes dogs. He could be allergic, for all I know.

When the elevator doors open to the penthouse, I can hear his voice coming from the kitchen. I set Goldie on the fluffy living room rug and walk down the hall.

Crew is standing at the kitchen counter, studying some papers and talking on the phone. His eyes light up when he sees me. I smile at him before I walk over to the fridge and pour myself a glass of water. On second thought, I fill a glass bowl with water too.

“Yes,” Crew says. “Send the expense reports when you can, and I’ll take a look later.” There’s a pause. “All right. Bye.”

He sighs, and then I hear him move. He drops his chin on my shoulder and kisses my neck. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Embarrassingly, my voice comes out breathy and high.

“How was the shoot?”

“Good.” His question distracts me from the feeling of his lips against my skin. I pull away. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh, really?” He raises one brow.

“Yeah. Follow me.” I start toward the living room, then remember the water. I spin back around to grab the bowl. Crew eyes it but doesn’t say anything as we walk down the hallway.

We enter the living room. The empty living room.

“Shit. Where did he go?”

“Where did who go?”

“I, uh.” I set down the bowl of water and look at him. “I sort of got a dog today?”

Crew looks shocked. “You what?”

“I was at the shoot—in the park—and there was this woman with all these dogs. And there was this one. He’s super sweet and really mellow, and they were going to kill him, Crew. So, I—I went there after the shoot and I adopted him.” I pause, assessing his expression. “Are you mad?”

“I, ah, where is it?”

Nothing is out of place, and no dog is in sight from my position in the living room. “I don’t know. I left him on the rug.”

“And you thought he would just stay in one spot? It’s not a stuffed animal, Scarlett. It’s a real one.”

“I know that,” I snap. “You’re getting awfully judgmental about a dog you’ve never even met.”

He smiles. “Okay. I’ll look upstairs. You take downstairs.”

I sigh. “Fine. He’s tiny. Like a golden fluff ball.”

“I know what a dog looks like.”

Rolling my eyes is very tempting, but I refrain. “And his name is Goldie.”

“Goldie?”

“What’s wrong with Goldie?”

“We’re changing his name,” Crew says.

“Let’s find him first, okay?”

Crew doesn’t reply before he heads for the stairs. I smile when I hear him call “Goldie” upstairs.

I look under the couch and behind the armchair in the corner of the living room. The kitchen doesn’t have any hiding spots. I head into the study next, crawling on my hands and knees to look under all the furniture in there. I’m walking toward the dining room when I hear “I found him!”

When I reach the top of the stairs, Crew is sitting on the runner that traverses the length of the hallway. Goldie is between his legs. His little paws peddle through the air as Crew scratches his belly.