Chapter 16
A ll day long, I’ve second-guessed this.
From the moment I opened my eyes after a restless night of sleep and all through rehearsal this morning.
I can’t decide if I’m making a huge mistake or not.
I haven’t heard a peep from Luca since Sunday, so here’s hoping he’s gotten whatever lingering lust was stuck there out of his system, and he’s moved on.
But that’s not what has me standing in front of the address the management person gave me, staring up at a large, stunning building on the edge of the park, laughing like a lunatic.
Of course he owns this building. I should have known it when he said it was an old hotel.
Not just any hotel. It was Boston’s premier luxury hotel and now it’s apartments overlooking the Boston Public Garden and The Common.
Before I can talk myself out of this, I approach the double doors that are instantly opened by a uniformed doorman. “Good evening,” he greets me. “Are you here visiting someone?”
“No. I’m here to meet with Simon Pastor. I have an appointment to see one of the apartments.”
A smile lights up his face. “You must be Miss Fairchild. Yes, we’re expecting you. I’m Ross, one of the evening doormen. Please, follow me.”
Oh hell. I do not belong in a place like this.
I’m wearing leather pants, purple Doc Martens combat boots, and a black one-shoulder sweater.
The perfectly coiffed, gorgeous woman walking past me through the opulent marble lobby is wearing designers.
She throws me a curious look and I straighten my spine, giving her a smile back.
Then I do a double take. She looks strangely familiar to me, though I can’t place where from.
“This is the main lobby,” the doorman explains, calling my attention back to the space around me.
“There is a concierge here during the day and on-call overnight. A doorman like myself is always here twenty-four-seven. The gym and spa are through there.” He points to a closed door in the far corner where the woman just entered.
“We have two trainers on staff, as well as a masseuse, and per the request of some of the residents, we’re bringing on a part-time aesthetic nurse practitioner who will work out of the spa. ”
“I’m sorry. A what?”
Ross throws me a smirk. “A licensed healthcare provider who can perform facial injections and treatments.”
“Oh.”
He chuckles at my expression. “I’m guessing that’s not something you’re into? You certainly look young, though.”
“That’s because I am, Ross. I’m only twenty-two.” We step onto the elevator, and he punches in a code. “And currently wondering what the hell I’m doing here.”
“That I can’t answer for you, but I will say, you’re not our youngest resident, if that makes you feel better.
Every floor has its own code, so you can give it to anyone who is visiting you.
That way we don’t have people wandering up to different floors.
Many of the residents like and value their privacy. ”
“Right.”
“Dr. Fritz spoke very highly of you when he called to inform us you’d be coming to look at 6-8-5.”
I can only nod at that. But something isn’t quite adding up for me. The way he’s been talking about the residents and the building and the amenities. “Ross, this place isn’t your typical apartment building. Do the people here own or rent?”
He clears his throat and shifts his weight, his gaze now locked on the numbers at the top of the elevator as we ascend. For a moment, it seems as though he’s not going to answer me, but then just as the car starts to slow, he clears his throat again and says, “They own, ma’am.”
“Thought so.”
Dammit, Luca. What are you doing?
“I should go,” I tell him just as the doors part and he waves for me to exit ahead of him.
“Dr. Fritz was adamant that you should see the unit even if you discovered this detail first.”
“Of course he was.” I fold my arms over my chest, shaking my head, my face dropping toward the gray carpet.
I feel foolish. How could I not have thought this was how it would be?
What was I thinking not looking into this sooner?
Then again, I was only texted the address this afternoon and I have to imagine that was very intentional.
Ross places his hand on my shoulder, attempting to catch my eye. “Mr. Pierce is already in the unit. He’s been there helping to get it set up all day. Just go see it. No harm in that, right?”
“Setting it up?”
His expression turns sheepish, clearly dropping more secrets than he was supposed to. Fantastic.
“All right. Let’s get this over with.” No way in hell I’m taking this “apartment”, but I don’t want to get Ross in trouble either. Sucking in a deep breath, I step out into the brightly lit hallway and follow Ross down all the way to the end of the floor.
A door opens and two burly men, drenched in sweat, exit, heading past us for the elevator. That’s when I see the placard on the open door: 685. Ross presses the doorbell and immediately an older man with silver hair and dark eyes is there.
“Mr. Pierce, this is Miss Raven Fairchild.”
“Oh, perfect timing.” He extends his hand to me, smiling and seeming a bit relieved if I’m reading him correctly. “It’s nice to meet you in person, Miss Fairchild. Please come in and have a look around.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Fairchild.” Ross tips his head and leaves, shutting the door behind him before I can even respond. Or correct them for calling me Miss Fairchild. I’m too busy staring around the apartment. Or condo. Or whatever this place is.
Cool twilight filters through the two floor-to-ceiling windows that comprise the majority of one wall in the main room.
It’s open concept, with a kitchen off to the left divided from the eating area and family room by a large rectangular island of smooth white and gray stone.
The appliances are stainless steel and top of the line, complete with a wine refrigerator and six-burner gas range above an oven and a half.
Luca wasn’t lying when he said it was fully furnished, but it was clearly just done so now.
It smells of brand-new leather and fabric, the upholstery stiff and not broken in.
My fingers glide along the soft white linen of the sofa adorned with deep purple and black plush throw pillows.
There’s a fuzzy one sitting on the dark leather chair that looks like it’s the most comfortable thing in the world and could swallow me whole.
The coffee table is rustic, the accessories cool and modern without being cold or uninviting.
The artwork is stunning, all black and white framed photographs of instruments and London architecture.
There’s even a large, mounted television.
The bastard decorated this place for me. Bought all of this for me.
A rush of something warm and unexpected crashes over me like a tidal wave.
“As you can see, everything is top of the line. There’s a large closet in the front hall, as well as another that acts as a pantry,” Mr. Pierce says and I nearly jump out of my boots, having almost forgotten he was here. “The bedroom and bathroom are this way.”
In a daze, I follow him as he crosses the family room directly into the bathroom that has a marble double vanity, a large glass shower, and a bathtub I could easily go swimming in.
He opens another door and now we’re in the bedroom.
It’s not huge, but it’s plenty large enough with a low-profile king-sized bed, a dark wood dresser with a mirror over it, and two nightstands.
The place looks like a Restoration Hardware showroom.
He shows me the walk-in closet, and I snicker under my breath at what I find in there.
A La Perla bag sitting on one of the empty shelves. Luca’s replacing the panties he stole from me, even though mine were far from La Perla. It’s a big bag and I’d bet there are more than just a couple of pairs of panties in there. I don’t dare touch it, certainly not in front of Mr. Pierce.
“What do you think?”
What do I think? I honestly don’t know what to think. What am I supposed to say or do with this? I’m overwhelmed. Stupidly emotional by this ridiculous gesture that is so insanely over-the-top, there is no bottom to it.
“It’s beautiful,” I go with that because it is. It’s the perfect apartment. Every inch of it. And I have no doubt it likely sells for at least a million dollars despite it being on the smaller side.
We head back into the family room through a different door than we entered, and I gasp when I find Luca leaning against the open front door, watching me with an expression I can’t read.
“Good evening, Dr. Fritz.” Mr. Pierce quickly crosses the room and shakes Luca’s hand. “I just finished showing her the unit.”
Luca’s eyes never waver from mine. “Thank you. I’ll take over from here.”
“Of course, sir. Have a good evening, ma’am.”
Ma’am. Sir. Luca has to be at least half this guy’s age. The door closes behind him with a soft click and now it’s just the two of us, standing here, staring at each other in some twisted game of truth or dare. Me silently asking him what the hell he’s doing. Him silently daring me to come at him.
“You’re such an asshole,” I start.
He smirks, rubbing a finger along his bottom lip. “Save it for someone who cares. You’ve called me asshole so many times this week, I half think it’s a term of endearment.”
“You bought me panties.”
“And other things. Did you look in the bag?”
“Absolutely. Right in front of Mr. Pierce, who insisted I call him Daddy when I tried on each and every item for him.”
His gaze darkens. “Christ, your mouth. It’s a shame I can’t tape it shut and fuck it at the same time. I’d watch what you say unless you want me to cut him up with my collection of scalpels and bone saws. What’s in that bag is for my eyes and my eyes only.”
“Agreed since I’ll never open the bag.”