Chapter Two #2
My stomach twists into a tighter knot with every step I take down the plush carpet of the high-rise hallway.
There’s just one door at the end of the hall.
The whole floor is a single penthouse. My uncertainty has been building since we left the alley.
It started the second Ash led me to his car, a shiny BMW with cream leather seats that smelled like his cologne.
I hesitated before getting in, painfully aware of the grime coating my jeans and the stink clinging to my shirt.
I warned him I’d ruin his interior, but he waved me off and told me not to worry about it.
As we drove, I asked him if he didn’t need to get back to work.
He didn’t even take his eyes off the road as he smiled and said he wrapped all his cases for the day.
Now, I stand behind him while he types a code into the digital keypad. The lock clicks, and he pushes the door open, stepping inside and spreading his arms.
“Come on in. Make yourself comfortable,” he says.
I step over the threshold and my jaw drops.
When Ash mentioned roommates, my brain jumped to a typical dorm setup.
I pictured beer cans, mismatched furniture, and pizza boxes.
This is a luxury suite bigger than most houses.
It’s spotless, gleaming with modern fixtures, and wrapped in floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the Seattle skyline and the glittering water of the Sound.
I know expensive. My family’s house in Utah was basically a compound, surrounded by giant WASPy McMansions in a gated upper-class neighborhood.
But this is a different breed of wealth.
This is a sleek, untouchable kind of wealthy.
Ash turns to me with an apologetic smile. “We only have three bedrooms, so you’ll have to take the couch for now. I hope that’s okay.”
I glance at the sprawling leather sectional taking up the center of the living room. It looks like it could comfortably fit ten people.
“Are you kidding?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief. “That’s way more than okay. It’s amazing.”
He laughs softly and heads into the kitchen, rounding a beautiful marble waterfall counter. He opens a stainless-steel fridge, pulls out a bottle of sparkling water, and hands it to me. I take a cold sip as he leans against the counter.
“Ryker and Aiden are out for the night, so it’ll just be the two of us today,” Ash tells me. “That should give you some time to rest and decompress before you have to face anyone new.”
“That sounds great. Thanks,” I say. I really am exhausted, and the idea of making small talk with two more strangers sounds overwhelming.
Ash gestures for me to follow him. “You can use my bathroom to shower.”
I follow him down a short hall and into his bedroom.
My mouth falls open again. The bed is huge, draped in plush blankets and dozens of pillows.
Everything in the room is decorated in soft creams and beiges, giving the space an elegant, calming vibe.
Ash disappears into a giant walk-in closet for a few seconds and comes back out holding some folded clothes.
“You can use these for tonight,” he says, handing me a soft t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. “Tomorrow we’ll go out and help you get some new sets of clothing to replace the stuff you got stolen. Use the towels and whatever toiletries you want in the bathroom.”
I take the stack of clothes, hugging them against my chest. My throat tightens up. A sudden wave of emotion hits me, and I have to clear my throat a few times to find my voice.
“Ash,” I croak, looking down at the soft fabric. “Thank you. Really. For letting me stay here, for helping me out. I was on my last leg out there.”
He offers a gentle smile and reaches out, patting my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Jax. You’ll find your place here soon enough.”
He turns and leaves the room, pulling the door shut behind him to give me privacy.
I stand there for a minute, breathing in the clean scent of his bedroom.
Then I strip off my filthy clothes. I look at the stained shirt and the stiff, dirty jeans piled on the floor and seriously consider throwing them in the trash can.
I step into the bathroom and turn on the shower.
Look up at the fancy waterfall faucet extending from the ceiling, and as soon as it heats up, I step inside.
The hot water pours over my head and shoulders, and I let out a loud groan of relief.
I grab a bottle of cedar-scented bodywash off the shelf, pump a generous amount into my hands, and scrub my skin until it feels raw.
For the first time in days, I actually feel human again.
The sweatpants Ash handed me are so soft against my skin I’m half-tempted to rub my face against the fabric like a weirdo.
Seriously, whatever cotton blend this is feels like sleeping on a cloud.
My cheap wardrobe couldn’t compete on its best day.
I step out of the hallway, toweling my damp hair, and a smell reaches me.
Butter, roasted meat, garlic, and herbs.
My stomach lets out a hollow, echoing rumble.
I follow the scent into the kitchen. Ash is pulling a stack of white takeout containers out of a paper bag and setting them on a polished black dining table big enough to seat eight people. He glances up, catching my pathetic, hungry expression, and flashes a warm grin.
“Come grab a seat,” Ash says, gesturing to one of the velvet-lined chairs. “I figured you’d be starving, so I ordered some food from the French place down the street.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” I tell him, dropping into the chair.
Ash pops the lids off the containers, pushing them toward me along with a fork. I don’t hesitate. I start shoveling braised beef and buttery potatoes into my mouth before he’s even sat down across from me. It tastes incredible. Better than good.
“So, what do you think?” Ash asks, resting his chin on his hand.
“Oh my god, this is orgasmic,” I moan around a mouthful of potatoes.
I freeze, my eyes going wide, and slap a hand over my mouth. I swallow hard, my face burning up, but Ash throws his head back and laughs.
“I’ll be sure to pass that review along to the chef,” he chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m sure the restaurant would appreciate the enthusiasm.”
I let out a nervous breath and join in his laughter, feeling the tension drain out of my shoulders. I take another, slightly more polite bite and look around the sprawling kitchen. The marble counters gleam under the pendant lights.
“The rent on this place must be mind-blowing,” I say, gesturing with my fork. “I couldn’t even find a shitty motel room for less than a couple hundred bucks around here.”
Ash shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “We don’t really pay rent, actually. Ryker owns the penthouse. We just live together because it’s convenient. The three of us have been friends since grade school. Our families are pretty close.”
I drop my fork onto my plate, gaping at him. “Wait, your friend Ryker owns a penthouse in the middle of downtown Seattle? He must be loaded.”