6. Home
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KATHERYN
My driver arrived at Lily's apartment precisely at seven. By the time she arrived at the restaurant, I was already seated with a glass of Bordeaux in hand.
The private dining room occupied the uppermost floor of Le Noir, a restaurant so exclusive that most people spent months attempting to secure a reservation they would never receive.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the harbour below, where the city lights shimmered across darkwater like scattered gold.
Soft jazz drifted through hidden speakers, subtle enough to be ignored and expensive enough to be noticed.
I saw Lily the moment she stepped inside. The hostess guided her toward the table, but my attention had already settled on her. She wore a simple black dress that slimmed her figure without trying too hard, her blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders a small smile touching her lips.
I lifted my glass and took a measured sip.
She settled into the chair across from me and accepted the wine offered by the waiter.
For a few moments, we sat there, watching one another across the candlelit table while the city glittered beyond the glass.
Most people felt compelled to fill every pause with conversation.
Lily didn’t. She seemed content to just exist, which made her infinitely more pleasant.
The discussion drifted toward the hospital.
Lily told me about a young patient who had convinced an entire nursing station that his stuffed dinosaur required emergency surgery.
She described the dramatic operation performed by three nurses and a very serious seven-year-old surgeon who had apparently saved the dinosaur's life.
I listened.
Board members spoke because they wanted approval. Investors spoke because they wanted influence. Executives spoke because they wanted something attached to my name. Lily spoke because she wanted to share a story. The distinction was unexpectedly refreshing.
At some point I realized I had finished my second glass of wine. And then I realized I was enjoying myself. The second realization was far more dangerous.
By the time we finally stood to leave, the city had settled fully into darkness.
The car was waiting outside. Lily sat beside me, gazing out the window as the city lights passed beyond the glass.
She wasn't nervous anymore. Not the way she had been the first night we met.
I wasn't entirely certain how I felt about that.
The city slowly gave way to quieter roads. Traffic faded. Streetlights became less frequent.
The car turned through a private gate and followed a winding driveway lined with mature trees illuminated by subtle landscape lighting.
Ahead, the house emerged from the darkness.
Clean architectural lines rising above the lake.
Warm light spilled through enormous windows, reflecting across the water below. The car came to a smooth stop.
”This isn't the penthouse.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
“No,” I said as I stepped out of the car. ”It is absolutely not the penthouse.”
The evening air was cool. Somewhere beyond the trees, water lapped softly against the shoreline.
”The penthouse serves its purpose, little bird. The penthouse is for fucking, I don’t bring people to my home I only intend to fuck and forget.”
The words settled between us. I watched them land.
“This is where I live, Lily.”
Silence followed.
The lake stretched behind us, silver beneath the moonlight.
Warm light glowed through the glass behind me.
For years, this house had been the only place in the world that truly belonged to me.
Not the penthouse. Not the office. Not the boardrooms. Not the restaurants.
The place I returned to for solace. My sanctuary.
The place no one saw. The place no one entered.
The night stretched into a blur of silk and sex. An erotic
dance of sweat-slicked skin on silk sheets.
Panting, breathless moments as we pushed each other over the precipice of heightened pleasure, making each other shatter and come undone over and over again.
Exceptional and beautifully sinful. Passionate embers smoldered into exhaustion and sleep claimed us both.
Morning came entirely too early, bathing the room in a warm glow. Our entwined bodies lay tangled in the silk, illuminated by the intruding morning light. I watched as her eyes fluttered open softly.
“Good morning, little bird,” I said softly.
Her smile appeared instantly.
I raised a brow. “Dangerous habit, little bird. Smiling at me like that.”
For the first time in a very long time, I wasn't interested in controlling the outcome.
I simply wanted to see where it led.