Rayleigh opened the door of her penthouse to find Matthew standing there with a crooked smirk, a paper bag dangling from one hand, and—more suspicious than anything—a bottle of wine held casually in the other. He almost never arrived with wine unless something was weighing on him.
She raised a brow. "What is it? "
"Are you seriously going to let your brother outside like this? " Matthew complained, nudging the bag upward as if proving his point.
"It's late, and my wife is asleep," Rayleigh replied, already tired of whatever mood he brought with him.
"It's nine. Not yet late," he said, brushing past her and slipping inside her penthouse as though he lived there. His shoes clicked softly against the polished floor, and he made a beeline for the kitchen counter to set everything down.
Rayleigh closed the door behind him with a sigh that was both annoyed and resigned. "If Belle wakes up and can't fall asleep again after this, I'm blaming you."
