Chapter 37 #3
“He owns the building, the restaurant, and the hotel,” he answers. “The other spaces he leases out.”
The thought of going back upstairs to sit in the suite all day—reading again like I have for the past few weeks—makes my skin itch.
Especially now that I know there’s more to see.
I take a moment to gather the right words.
“I want to explore.” I direct that at Boris, who seems to be the one in charge.
He exchanges a look with the other two. Then, to my surprise: “I suppose there’s no reason not to.”
I almost hug him. But I restrain myself at the last second and settle for a bright, grateful smile instead. Since we're still on the ground floor, we start our tour there, heading first to the retail store. A luxury retail store—probably where my new wardrobe came from.
I wander between racks of designer clothes, run my fingers over expensive bags I could never afford myself, and try on a pair of oversized sunglasses in front of a small mirror the attendant hands me.
The souvenir shop next door has all the charm of an airport gift shop at four times the price. I nearly choke when I see the cost of a miniature snow globe, which earns me an amused look from the attendant.
I smile politely and keep browsing—until something on one of the middle shelves catches my eye. An elegant, slender-necked vase. Exactly the right shape for the roses. I’m still reading the price when Boris materializes beside me and takes it out of my hands.
“Boris—”
“It’s perfect for your flowers,” he says, and before I can protest, he walks it straight to the register and pays for it.
Seconds later, the vase is wrapped and handed back, and Boris passes the package to Alan, who carefully cradles it in his arms. I look at him, and he simply looks away, like he didn’t just do something unexpectedly kind.
Done with the ground floor, we head up to the next level.
The ballrooms are grand in a formal, empty way—polished and enormous, the kind of space that only comes alive with a crowd.
The conference rooms are exactly what conference rooms always are: bright fluorescent lighting, tables and chairs waiting for people in stuffy suits.
I glance at my bodyguards—they definitely fit right in here. I do not.
The next floor is much better. I take my time wandering through the lounge, which is mostly empty except for a few employees preparing for the evening opening.
From there, I step out onto the balcony where the pool sits under the open sky.
The blue water glitters in the sunlight, and I dip my hand in briefly before moving on to the spa.
Warm air scented with oils drifts through the space, quiet and soothing enough to tempt me into staying, but I keep going.
The gym looks like something straight out of a movie. Machines of every kind fill the massive room—it’s so big it takes up half the floor. Professional-looking trainers hover nearby, checking in on the few people working out.
We stop at the café on the fifth floor afterwards. The men grab coffee and a snack, while I order a smoothie before we continue up through the rest of the building.
By the time we finally get back to the penthouse level where the suite is, most of the day is gone. My legs ache from all the walking after weeks of barely moving, and I’m exhausted—but somehow I feel lighter too. Fulfilled.
I’m a little hungry again, but I don’t care.
It was totally worth it. I had a great time, and I think the men did too.
For a while, I even forgot my reality… and what’s waiting for me in my future.
I head to my room, remembering to take my birth control pill before hopping into a quick shower.
When I step out, fresh and dressed, food is waiting for me.
I make my way to the dining table and eat quietly, replaying pieces of the day in my mind.
After eating, I wander into the kitchen and find that one of the men has already moved my roses from the pitcher to the vase. And just like I imagined, they look stunning.
Smiling, I pick up the vase and carry it back to my room. Then I head to the library and lose myself in an engaging novel. The door opening is the only thing that pulls me out of it, and when I peek through the blinds, I’m surprised at how dark it’s gotten outside.
“Should I bring your dinner here?” Boris asks from the doorway.
“Is Vanya back?” I get to my feet, rolling my neck and stretching.
“Not yet. He sent a message to let you know he’ll be back late and not to wait for him.”
My heart trips over itself. So they’ve been in contact.
Which means Boris has had the opportunity to mention our excursion today.
I study his face, searching for any sign that he knows I lied to him this morning about getting Vanya’s permission.
But his expression gives me nothing. Did he not mention it to Vanya yet?
“I’ll have dinner in my room,” I say, slipping a bookmark between the pages of my book. Then I carry the novel out of the library with me.
I’ll continue reading it after dinner.