Chapter 11
Sutton
I didn’t ask questions as we stepped into the elevator. Jagger slipped a keycard into the panel, and the door closed. I felt his eyes on me as we began to move.
“You feel okay?”
“My stomach, yes. My pride? Not so much.”
He smiled. “You’ll survive.”
The elevator car picked up speed. “Where are we going?”
“I live in the building. I’ll give you a shirt to change into.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Thank you.”
Jagger Langston didn’t just live in the building.
He occupied the entire top floor. My mouth dropped open as I walked into the marbled foyer.
I wasn’t a stranger to nice New York City apartments.
My mother and Edmund lived in a three bedroom off Central Park, but this—this was something else.
Floor-to-ceiling glass lined one entire wall of the spacious living room.
The New York skyline was so crisp and perfectly on display, it made me question whether there was actually a barrier.
“Wow. Your view is incredible.”
He held out a hand for me to walk first, and I went straight to the window, forgetting all about my puke-stained shirt.
Jagger came up behind me. “It’s all one piece of glass—twelve feet high by thirty-two feet long. The previous owner had all the individual windows removed—he didn’t want any panes or interruptions to the view. Sometimes when I stand here, I feel like a betta fish in a fishbowl.”
I snort-laughed. “Wouldn’t you be an alpha fish?”
Jagger raised a brow and smirked, shaking his head. “I’ll go get you that shirt.”
He came back to the living room with a pressed white dress shirt on a hanger in one hand and a T-shirt in the other. “This is the best I can do.”
I reached for the dress shirt. “Thank you.”
He pointed. “Bathroom is the first door on the left. Help yourself to whatever you need.”
The guest bathroom walls were covered in sumptuous textured wallpaper, deep brown with raised gold cherry blossoms that shimmered in the lighting. I was so caught up in the impressive space that I almost forgot the reason I was in it—at least until I got a load of myself in the mirror.
Oh my God. I leaned forward and cringed.
Not only was there a giant splatter of red on my shirt, but my hair was a disheveled mess and mascara streaked down one of my cheeks.
No wonder he’d whisked me out of the company event.
I spent the next five minutes trying to clean up as best as I could.
But I remained a train wreck, and I dreaded going back out there.
Then came a soft knock at the door.
“You okay?” Jagger asked.
“I’m fine. Just…mortified after seeing what I look like.”
“Even makeup down your cheeks doesn’t make you less attractive. Trust me, it pisses me off.” He paused. “Open up, if you’re decent. I have an extra toothbrush, if you want it.”
I unlocked the door and took the toothbrush and toothpaste. Jagger looked down at my shirt—his shirt on me. I’d tied it at the waist and rolled up the sleeves. He shook his head and grumbled, “Looks better on you.”
A few minutes later, I emerged with a scrubbed face and minty breath.
I found Jagger staring out the window with a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
His feet were set wide in a power stance I really liked.
He looked lost in thought, but more than that, he looked lonely.
It made me wonder if he’d even enjoyed his time with the blonde.
I walked over and stood with him. “Where did your date go?”
“What date?”
“The tall blonde?”
He squinted at me before recognition dawned on his face. “You mean Marla?”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know her name.”
“If you’re referring to the woman I walked into the building with tonight, her name is Marla Emerson. She runs the London Apex office. We keep a guest apartment in the building for when executives from our other offices come to town.”
“Oh.” As if vomiting on myself wasn’t bad enough. “Sorry. The way you touched her seemed familiar, and I just thought…”
“It should be familiar by now. Marla and I have known each other for twenty-five years. My mother had some mental-health issues when I was growing up. She went in and out of the hospital a lot, so Marla’s parents became my foster parents.
I stayed with them during the times my mom wasn’t able to take care of me. ”
“I’m sorry.” I paused, unsure what else to say. “I hope she’s okay now. Your mom, I mean.”
He went back to staring out the window. “How are you feeling? Has your stomach settled?”
“I think so. On the positive side, getting sick seems to have sobered me up. It was stupid of me to drink as much as I did, especially when I hadn’t eaten anything.” I paused. “Can I ask you something?”
“Do I need to set a five-minute timer?”
I smiled. “I don’t think so. Maybe we can just ask what we feel like asking without the pressure of the clock.”
“What’s your question?”
“What made you come to the happy hour tonight?”
He looked over at me. “It’s my company. Am I not allowed to attend?”
“Of course you can. I just heard you usually don’t.”
His eyes swept over my face. “I went to pick up the dinner I ordered from a restaurant and saw you in the bar through the window.”
“Before or after you picked up your food?”
“Before.”
“Oh my God. So you’ve been taking care of me while your dinner is waiting for you and getting cold?”
“It’s fine. Is it my turn now?”
“Turn?”
“To ask a question.”
“Oh. Sure.”
Jagger caught my eye. “Were you really looking for a hook-up tonight?”
“Would it bother you if I was?”
“I came to the happy hour I never attend to foil your plans, didn’t I?”
I smiled.
He pointed to my mouth. “Don’t gloat.”
“I’m not gloating.” I’m totally gloating.
Jagger shook his head. “I answered your questions, but you didn’t answer mine.”
“No, I wasn’t looking for a hook-up. I was looking to drown my sorrows.”
“Why are you sad?”
“I’m not, really. Maybe sorrow isn’t the right word. I was just feeling sorry for myself.”
“Is the internship not what you expected?”
I shook my head. “No, the internship is great. It’s not that. It’s my ex, the one who just married my stepsister Colette. Apparently they’re having a baby.”
Jagger squinted. “The wedding was only a week ago. I thought the douche came from a religious family?”
I smiled at the term of endearment he’d used for Brendan. “He does. The only good thing about the surprise announcement is they are probably very disappointed in him.”
Jagger looked into my eyes. “The man is really a damn fool.”
He turned his attention back to the view, and after a minute, I started to feel awkward. He’d brought me up here to give me a change of clothes and stop me from making an idiot out of myself, and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.
“Well, I should get going. Thank you for giving me a shirt. I’ll have it cleaned and return it to you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I have a closet full.”
Jagger made no effort to move, so I took another ten seconds to enjoy the view before turning away. “I’ll see you next week.”
Halfway to the door, he still hadn’t left his spot in front of the window. “Wait.”
I stopped.
“I ordered enough food for two. Why don’t you put something in your stomach before you travel home? It’ll just take me a minute to go get it.”
I really didn’t want to leave yet. “If you don’t mind, that would be great.”
Jagger walked to the kitchen counter and picked up his wallet and keys. “You should wait here. The party is probably still going on downstairs.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “Yeah, right. It wouldn’t look good if people saw the boss walking out with an intern, especially one wearing his shirt.”
“I give no fucks what people think of me. What I do is my business. You’re welcome to come, if you want. I just don’t want to subject you to scrutiny.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “Can I snoop around while you’re gone?”
Jagger’s lip twitched. “Knock yourself out.”
I watched the elevator doors slide closed before spinning around to take in the apartment again.
I’d just been given free rein to peek into the nooks and crannies of Jagger’s personal life, and I suddenly felt like a kid in a candy store.
I didn’t want to waste a minute. The living room and kitchen were gorgeous, but those I could eyeball more when he was here.
So I headed down the hallway where I’d gone for the bathroom and started to open each door.
The first room was a home office. It had an oversized desk and the same incredible skyline view as the living room. A quick peek at the bookshelves looked to be more of the same of what I’d already seen in his office, so I quickly pulled the door shut and kept going.
A big spare room on the opposite side of the wall. Nice, but nothing too juicy in there.
A gym as big as my apartment back in California.
Another guest room.
The last door on the end had to be his. I opened the door and flicked on the light. “Wow.”
Deep charcoal walls gave the oversized bedroom a warm, rich feeling.
The far wall boasted the same floor-to-ceiling sparkling skyline view as the living room and office, except this view had a set of double doors that led to an outdoor terrace with seating.
I imagined Jagger sitting out there at night, a glass filled with the amber liquid he’d been drinking earlier.
The windows were dressed in opulent deep burgundy linens, tied back by tasseled ropes.
To the right, a sleek fireplace had been built into the wall.
But the centerpiece of the room was a king-size, four-poster bed, with ornately carved dark wood, a velvet duvet that matched the walls but had thick burgundy piping, and a pile of textured throw pillows with a pop of color.
I couldn’t stop myself—I ran my hand over the soft bedding and salivated.
He probably sleeps here naked. I got the crazy urge to rip off my clothes and roll around in the sheets.