18 Oh! You Pretty Things
Oh! You Pretty Things
With the last bang still reverberating through the air and the last plume of smoke still dissipating in the night sky, we say our goodbyes to New Jersey.
As we wander back to the car, Dash takes every opportunity to touch me—from stealing kisses under the moonlight to hooking his pinkie with mine and resting his chin on my shoulder while we gaze at the city lights. And every touch makes my heart soar and my pulse race.
Just before midnight, with the Tesla’s battery dipping into the red, Dash pulls into the circular drive of a towering yellow-brick building. A small army dressed in crisp tan-and-black uniforms scurries between the line of expensive cars and shiny carts stacked with designer luggage.
“This is it.” Dash unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the car.
He walks around to my side and opens my door, then waits patiently for me to join him on the sidewalk.
Like Jack standing at the bottom of the beanstalk, I gaze up at the ornate facade jutting into the sky, and my insides curl into a ball. “You live in a hotel?”
Dash takes my tote and slings it over his shoulder as if he’s done it a hundred times before. “I don’t live here, my dad does. When he’s in the city, anyway. And the upper floors are apartments.”
“Will, uh, anyone be home?” Heat blooms across my cheeks. A sleepover in the front seat of his Tesla is one thing. A sleepover in his father’s fancy New York apartment is something else entirely.
“Shouldn’t be.” He takes my hand and squeezes. “As far as I know, Dad’s in Washington, which means his wife is with him ... or in Paris, shopping.”
“Paris?”
“She’s ...” He trails off as he turns to whisper a few words to the valet. “Let’s not talk about her.”
The uniformed man scurries to the back of the car, unloads our bags from the trunk, and places them on a shiny brass luggage rack. As he darts toward the building with our luggage, another man hops into Dash’s seat and drives off with the Tesla.
I follow the taillights until they disappear into the night. “You sure we didn’t just get carjacked?”
He laughs. “I’m sure. We’ll get it back in the morning. Fully charged.”
Suddenly self-conscious, I tug the bottom of my shirt, wishing I was wearing something a little less rumpled and sweaty.
“Come on.” A slow grin spreads across his face as he tows me into the building.
The sweet fragrance of lemon and fresh flowers hits me the moment I step across the threshold.
Giant arrangements of seasonal blooms and bowls of ripe lemons adorn a mahogany table—the first of several lining the walls and anchoring each matching pair of red velvet sofas.
I keep waiting for someone to stop me and tell me I don’t belong, but no one seems to notice the embarrassingly underdressed couple crossing the soaring lobby.
Dash leads me into a mirrored elevator and slips a key into the panel.
He presses the button for the top floor and clings to my hand while we ascend.
The doors open to the most spectacular view I’ve ever seen.
Framed by floor-to-ceiling glass, and lit up like a shiny Christmas tree, the New York City skyline takes my breath away.
The view draws me in until my nose hovers a hairbreadth from the glass.
“Dash, you’re rich.” My heart sinks as I gape down at the Matchbox cars lining the street below.
We really don’t live in the same world.
“Not me.” His fingers circle my wrist, and he tows me away from the window. “My dad.”
“Yeah, but your dad is, like, uber rich. That makes you rich adjacent.” I gaze up at him.
His smile falters. “Please don’t make this a thing between us. It really isn’t a big deal.”
“Not a big deal? Have you seen this place?” A sharp twinge stabs my heart, and I press my fingers to the spot.
“And let’s not forget that ridiculously expensive car of yours.
Did you happen to see what I was driving?
And that armadillo-murdering monstrosity isn’t even mine.
My piece-of-shit car wouldn’t have made it to the Tennessee state line.
I’d probably be stranded somewhere between Cleveland and Nashville with my entire electrical system shorted out. ”
Dash loops an arm around my shoulders and presses his lips to my temple.
“I don’t even know who you are.”
Would he have even given me a second glance if we’d met under different circumstances?
He wraps his other arm around me, tucking my head under his chin. “I’m the same guy you met in that shitty diner in Tennessee. The cars, the money, the fancy apartments ... none of that is who I am.”
I melt into him, burying my face in his chest. “My family isn’t rich. And I’m not convinced most of them are even sane. My grandmother swears she gave birth to David Bowie’s love child. And my mother clearly believed her if she made me promise to spread her ashes along that specific tour path.”
Dash sucks in a sharp breath, and his arms tighten around me.
“And I’m just as crazy as the rest of them—thinking I could survive a cross-country road trip all by myself. God, what would we even talk about in the real world?”
“Trust me.” He exhales slowly, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “I’d much rather talk with your family than mine. I do everything in my power to stay out of their orbit whenever humanly possible.”
I nod, desperate to believe him.
“It’s late,” he says. “We should go to bed.”
“Bed?” I stiffen in his arms like a schoolgirl.
Dash lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m certain there are more than enough beds to go around, if ...”
Swallowing a groan, I lift my face to his. “If it’s all the same to you, I-I’d rather sleep wherever you’re sleeping.”
He flashes a crooked grin. “As long as you promise not to take advantage of me.”
“It won’t be easy, but I’ll try to control myself.”
“Who do you think she is?”
“Definitely Goldilocks. Look at her hair.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Goldilocks doesn’t wear Superman underwear.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe she does.”
Hushed voices filter into my consciousness, dragging me from a magnificent dream where I’m floating through the air on a marshmallow cloud. Am I still dreaming?
The voices go silent, and I snuggle into the comfortable bedding again. I could float here forever.
“Should we poke her and see?”
I open one eye to discover Dash gone and two identical cherub faces leaning over me, the sun forming a halo behind them. Like tiny mirror images of each other, they wear matching floral tops, purple shorts, and the same dark ponytails punctuated with a lilac ribbon tied at the bottom of each one.
“She’s awake,” the little girl on the left whispers, her navy eyes stretching wide.
The other girl lets out a squeak, her mouth dropping open in a little pink bow. They smell like ripe berries, fresh from the vine.
With her blue eyes locked on me, the first girl elbows the second and whispers out of the corner of her mouth. “Should we get Tonya?”
A woman wearing a plain blue skirt and a crisp white blouse pops her head into the room. A severe bun pulls her auburn hair back from her face, making her look almost angry.
“What are you girls doing in your brother’s—oh!” She flinches as her gaze lands on me. “I didn’t—do I know you?”
“Uh ...” I tug the zillion-thread-count white sheet to my chin. “D-Dash—”
“I should’ve known.” She rolls her eyes, clearly judging me. “Come on, girls. It would appear as though your brother’s home.”
I want to tell her we didn’t ... it wasn’t like that. Despite the overwhelming desire to rip his clothes off and have my way with him, we just slept. Nothing more.
But I don’t dare say a word.
The girls squeal, jumping up and down beside the plush bed.
“She must be our present,” one of the girls sings.
Do the disgustingly wealthy really give people as presents? If so, I should probably make a run for it while I still can.
“No.” The woman grins. “She is not your present.”
“She’s mine.” Dash wanders into the room, all rumpled and sexy in his gray flannel sleep pants and wrinkled white tee.
“Aww, Dash,” both girls chime simultaneously. “But you always bring us presents!”
“Not this time, munchkins. I didn’t even know you’d be here. Now, scram. Both of you.”
Dash sweeps a hand through the air and clears everyone from the room before closing the door behind him with a quiet snick.
With his glasses crooked across the bridge of his nose, he climbs into the bed and crawls toward me with a sleepy smile.
“Sorry about that. I had to make a phone call. Did you sleep well?” He plants a sweet kiss on my lips before collapsing into the massive stack of downy pillows.
“I did.” I giggle. “Almost too well. I forgot where I was.”
For the first time since waking, I scope out my surroundings.
Other than the massive windows framing Manhattan, the room is devoid of decoration.
Nothing that would indicate Dash’s presence.
The stark white walls, crisp white bedding, and light-washed wood floors all blend together, but with a view that goes on for miles, it’s still the nicest room I’ve ever stayed in.
Dash rests his head on my shoulder. “Sorry about the twins.”
“Your sisters?”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize Tonya and the girls would be here.”
“Tonya? Your stepmom?”
He snorts. “The nanny.”
“Oh.”
“Could’ve been worse,” he mumbles.
I wonder what he means by that, but let it go. “Should we leave?”
“We don’t need to rush. We can take our time, have breakfast.” Dash tugs me toward him and buries his face in my hair. “Shower.”
I choke out a laugh. “Are you telling me I stink?”
“No.” He chuckles. “I like how you smell. But we’ve been cooped up in the car for over twenty-four hours. I figured you might want to clean up.”
“Yes, please. That would be great.”
With another quick kiss, Dash hops out of bed. “I’ll go scrape together something to eat while you grab a shower. The en suite is completely stocked, but if you need anything special—a clean pair of Superman boxers, maybe—let me know.”
“I’m good.” My cheeks burn. “I’m not actually a princess, you know.”
His face lights up as he backs toward the door. “Sure you are.”
After taking the world’s longest hot shower, I grab my bags and wander through the penthouse, dodging the tiny socialites and their uptight nanny as I search for Dash.
His angry voice carries through the cavernous space, and I follow the sound to a stark white kitchen.
Dash glares at his phone as he paces in front of the floor-to-ceiling window like a cornered animal, then presses it to his ear again. “You don’t have to remind me. I know what I said!”
His icy tone freezes me in the doorway.
“No, I’m not—” He stops and rakes a hand through his hair. “Because I made a promise . You do remember what those are, don’t you?”
Flinching at his tone, I melt into the shadows—unsettled, yet thoroughly transfixed by his anger.
“I told you I needed time to—” He huffs, growing more agitated with each passing second. “Well, I don’t have to decide today !”
Afraid he’ll catch me spying if I stay hidden, I step forward and clear my throat.
He spins toward me, his eyes widening as they meet mine. “Dad, I need to go. I’ll call you later.” He disconnects the call and shoves his phone deep in his pocket. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” I say, hoping he doesn’t see the lie in my eyes.
But he avoids my gaze and nods, as if constructing an invisible wall between us. “You, uh, ready to go?”
“Yeah. Sure.” I force a smile. “Should I bring my stuff, or will we be—”
“Bring it.” He stares out the window, his expression haunted. “I’d rather not have an excuse to come back.”
“Dash ...” Swallowing the questions clogging my throat, I take a step toward him. “Is something wrong?”
His head snaps up. “What? No. Everything’s great.” He blows out a breath and gives me a tight smile. “Great might be an exaggeration, but I’ll be fine ... as soon as we’re out of here.”
“Then let’s go.”
He reaches for my hand. “Ready when you are.”