20
Violet
B roadway ushers me into the elevator and keys in the code, repeating it back to me three times as if he thinks I’m brave enough to exit the building by myself.
I’m not, even though I want to push myself—which is why I asked Carter for a job at Scarlett . Well, it’s not the only reason. I have a few, actually. Stepping out of my comfort zone is one. Money for little things is another, but the main reason is staying close to Broadway.
I can admit—if only to myself—that he has some sort of hold on me. Everything is easier when he’s around.
Carter misinterpreted my reasons and firmly believes I want to go back to Slovakia. Nothing could be further from the truth but I didn’t bother correcting him.
Pushing my limits by working at Scarlett might help me heal, and maybe, just maybe , get closer to Broadway.
I don’t want to live in Bratislava. I’m not even sure I want to find my sister after what she did, but I know I want to stay right here. I offered to reimburse every dollar Carter paid Blaze for me, but Carter refused the offer. Too bad. Paying him back would take the rest of my life.
The elevator dings on the thirty-ninth floor, opening into a spacious living room with modern furnishings in a truly sophisticated color scheme: dark wood, white leather, silver trimmings. The plush area rug under the glass coffee table looks soft enough to sleep on, but the floor-to-ceiling windows steal my breath away.
I’m rooted to the spot, staring out over the city... until Broadway’s hand lands on my lower back.
He’s touched me before.
More than once, but this time I jerk away on instinct, the reaction uncontrollable.
“Sorry, I... I shouldn’t have,” he says when I spin around and find he’s holding both hands up in surrender. “In my defense, it’s almost fucking impossible not to touch you when you’re so close.”
Words stick in my throat, my heart ramming in my chest. I didn’t mind his hand on mine, or on the nape of my neck. I didn’t mind him holding me close while he calmed me down, but this simple touch throws my mind into overdrive.
Too intimate.
Too loaded.
Too familiar in the worst way.
But his words... the raw honesty, the tenderness, the emotion behind them, calm me right down.
“It’s okay, I just didn’t expect it.”
Removing myself from the awkward moment, I let my feet take me across the living room. I’ve never been a fan of heights, but standing here, my nose almost glued to the pane of glass, my heart’s palpitating.
Not in fear... in relief .
No one can climb through a window this high. And no one without the code can enter the penthouse.
A sense of calm washes over me, stronger than anything I’ve felt since arriving at Carter’s mansion. There were too many people there. Too many ways in and out, too many cars arriving at odd hours.
Broadway’s place is peaceful. You could argue it’s a fancy high-rise cage, but caged is the last thing I feel.
I feel protected.
I spin around, catching his eyes tracking my every move. His suit hugs every perfect inch of his muscular body and I still can’t get over how tall he is. Even here, where the ceilings soar a good thirty feet above, Broadway commands the space.
“What do you think?” he asks, his tone mostly level. Something loaded lurks behind that question, something heavy that shoots an unexpected thrill down my spine.
“It’s amazing,” I admit, stealing another glance at the busy city below. Then, I notice the black grand piano he’s leaning against. “Do you play?”
“Occasionally.”
“I’d love to hear it some time.”
“Some time,” he agrees, pushing away from the instrument that must be worth a small fortune. “Come on, I’ll show you your room.”
He holds his hand out, gesturing toward the hallway. He keeps a respectable distance that instantly makes me regret jerking away.
It’s not like I can control my instincts, but I don’t want him to think I’ll jump out the window if he comes too close.
My head doesn’t stop spinning left and right while we navigate the penthouse. We pass a modern, almost clinical kitchen, a study with a large desk and a corner bookshelf crammed with titles I don’t recognize, then a large bathroom with a clawfoot tub by the window. No blinds in sight. I guess living on the thirty-ninth floor, you don’t need to worry about peeping toms.
“Here.” Broadway opens the door on the left. “My bedroom’s right there.” He points further down the hall. “I have a few things to take care of. Will you be okay by yourself?”
I nod, my fingers trailing over the crisp bedding. “No one can get in without the code,” I repeat his words. “And only people you trust know it.”
He nods, watching me circle the room. “That’s right, but if it’ll make you feel better, I can send for Apollo. You seemed pretty confident around him.”
I take a moment to ponder the idea. If I say no , I’ll be alone for the first time in months.
I haven’t been alone since arriving in America. First the other girls, then Blaze, Damon, his men, and the ones who took me back to their homes.
Carter’s mansion is always manned, guards securing the perimeter whenever the boss leaves.
Maybe a few solitary hours are exactly what I need?
“I’ll be okay by myself.”
Much better than with him around.
“Okay. I won’t be long.” He pulls a phone from his inside pocket and leaves it on the vanity. “If you need me, call me. I’ve programmed in everyone’s numbers. Including Hailey’s.” He gestures for me to follow him back into the kitchen.
The marble counters are perfectly clean, not one thing out of place, and Broadway spends a few minutes showing me where everything I might need is.
“I’ll grab some takeout later,” he says, closing the fridge packed full of protein shakes, fruit, and healthy snacks. “I know you like Italian, so what’s your favorite dish?”
“Anything’s fine.”
He spins on his heavy boot, those dark eyes boring into mine. “I didn’t ask what’s fine. I asked what’s your favorite .”
The tone of his voice alone, soft, but low, sends another flaming sensation across my neck and cheeks. “Um... I like pasta. Any pasta.”
“Pasta it is.”
He takes me into the bathroom next, showing me where he keeps fresh towels and how to adjust the water temperature. Once we’re done there, we circle back to the living room and Broadway opens a small cabinet seamlessly melded into the wall. I would’ve never noticed it if he hadn’t shown me. Inside are three remote controls.
“This one’s for the TV.”
I frown, glancing around, because there is no TV. At least that’s what I think until he presses a green button in the middle of another remote. The wall bulges out in the middle, before sliding aside to reveal a huge flatscreen.
“This last one’s for the sound system. There are built-in speakers in every room. Once you switch it on...” He shows me which button to press, “...you can either say the song title and artist or use the touchscreen.” He points at a small screen near the elevator.
He leaves the remotes on the coffee table. “Alright, that’s all... unless I forgot anything?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Good.” He checks his wristwatch. “I need to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you need me, call me.”
I nod along, watching him key in the elevator code. The door opens thirty seconds later and, with one last smile from his handsome face, he’s gone.
I stand in the middle of the living room for a long time, staring out the window at Columbus. Then I cross the room to fumble with the touchscreen until I find the music app and start the first playlist I see.
Music fills the penthouse: “Is Everybody Going Crazy?” by Nothing But Thieves, according to the screen. I lower the volume, taking a cautious seat on the sofa.
I’m hungry and thirsty but the calmness rolling over me steals my energy and I simply sit there, absorbing the lack of suffocating, oppressive silence.