XIII

There’s an array of cubicles set up for the paralegals, staff, and other administrative positions that help our firm run as smoothly as possible. Most of those cubicles are still in the same condition they’re always in. There are two, closest to the desk outside of my office, that have the contents from their desks and drawers scattered about.

The door to my office is wide open, which isn’t how I left it. When I walk inside, there are only a few dozen sheets of paper on my desk.

“I think that whoever broke into the office was looking for something your partner is in possession of. Having realized this wasn’t Mr. Olsen’s office, they left things mostly intact.”

I let out a sigh, staring around the room I usually spend about 60 hours a week working in. These past two days with Raina make me reevaluate how much time I spend here. I don’t want to be slaving over client documents while she’s at home washing that naked body of hers and I’m not there to lick her dry.

“Mr. Remington?” Detecti