Chapter 7
PROMISES IN GOLD (CLEO)
Ijerk awake in… the back of a car?
Huh? Buildings blur by the tinted windows. The seat belt digs into the side of my neck. Everything smells new-car clean.
Beside me, Holden sits in the driver’s seat, both hands on the wheel in the ten and two position.
Obviously. The man never half-asses anything if there’s a rule involved.
I can’t believe I dozed off again.
I stretch, rolling out my shoulders and hunching my back until my spine pops. Ouch.
But I needed another nap, and what else was there to do on the long ride from the airport through this dense city traffic?
Holden’s eyes snap to me, golden brown in the morning light.
He has the visor down to protect him from the sun, a single streak of light falling over him—the only point of softness in a face that’s as hard as granite. His hair almost shines black in the orange light. His cheekbones look like they’d cut me.
Maybe that nap did me a little too much good.
He doesn’t smile—he’s allergic—but I think his expression lightens ever so slightly.
“Morning, princess.”
“You drove this far without waking me?” I shift the seat belt around my neck. “That’s some superhero shit right there.”
One eyebrow quirks a bit, though he’s facing the road again so I can’t read his expression.
“Don’t tell me you’re impressed that easily.”
“I’m just saying, some of your secret agent juju might come in handy. Might.”
“You were out of it. Thought I’d have to carry you off that plane,” he says. “I think I could’ve dropped you on the tarmac and you wouldn’t have woken up.”
“Rude.”
“Did you know you snore? You should see somebody about that.”
I gawk at him, my cheeks fiery. “I do not. Take it back.”
He shrugs. “Whatever you want to believe.”
“I believe you’re just as annoying as I remember. That’s your real superpower.” I scrub at my eyes as we pull into a large parking garage connected to a familiar building.
Gramps’ old New York penthouse.
I’ve only been here a handful of times over the years, but it’s an impressive glass building that catches the sun.
Impossible to forget with its majestic city views.
“Wow. I thought they would’ve sold this one right away.”
“Still hasn’t gone on the market,” Holden explains as he pulls into the private parking lot. “In the meantime, it’s been used as a makeshift rental when it’s not accommodating Ethan’s out-of-state clients, an Airbnb. Better than a hotel for our purposes, security-wise.”
“Whoa,” I breathe as we pull into the underground parking lot.
It’s certainly sleeker than I remember. There are cameras everywhere, and everything looks squeaky clean.
Holden backs into a reserved space in one smooth motion and climbs out.
“I’ve got the bags,” he says, but I reach into the trunk for mine the instant it’s open.
I packed my bag so I know I can roll it in an elevator.
Besides, he has that jeweled bomb in the briefcase to look after.
“Relax,” I say. “You’re here for security, not to manhandle all my stuff.”
He scowls but pushes my bag in front of me.
Soon, we’ll be off to see Jasper Fairfax. That dull ache in the pit of my stomach deepens.
The long elevator ride up to the condo takes forever.
I try not to notice Holden’s reflection—or mine—in the mirrored gold walls of the elevator. When we finally reach the private floor and the main door opens, I inhale the smell of fresh renovation and old money in the city that never sleeps.
Seriously. You could’ve measured PopPop’s wealth just by the brutally overpriced square footage he owned behind glass.
A second later, I step into a huge, open plan living and dining area tucked behind ginormous windows looking out over the labyrinth of streets. A brick wall hung with what could be a few more expensive paintings. More auctions to come for a collection so massive.
The kitchen could host a gala all by itself.
Actually, you could probably host the whole thing in the living room. I could dance ballet here. Not that I’ve done ballet for years.
“So much space,” I say, prancing into the room and doing a spin. “That view is peak. Do you have any idea how much this place costs?”
“At least thirty lifetimes worth for me.” Holden grunts.
I giggle.
And I realize this is a sign that I’m an adult now. My first question is about multimillion-dollar real estate.
Runs in the Blackthorn blood, I guess.
I sweep through the gorgeous penthouse to my bedroom, the guest room I’d take on the rare visits here. It’s a touch smaller than the other two suites, but it has that cozy familiarity I need.
Only—
“Oh no. Holy crap.” I go numb. My eyes feel like glass.
Holden charges in behind me and stops dead in his tracks.
“Holy fuck,” he echoes.
The old room looks the same. Nice oak desk against the wall, exorbitantly expensive painting over the bed, blinds drawn on a window with a view people would literally kill for.
Nothing out of place except the bed. It’s missing a mattress.
Okay, look. I’ve slept on my fair share of hard floors after drunken nights in college, but I draw the line at sleeping on wooden slats and wrecking my spine forever.
Holden pulls out his phone while I open the closet, just in case there’s a mattress hiding in there.
Nope.
This keeps getting better.
“Dammit,” Holden snarls behind me. I turn back around in time to see him staring grimly at his screen. “Looks like the last client who stayed here made a serious mess. Ruined the goddamned mattress. I just checked the rental notes.”
“A mess? Doing what?” I wrinkle my nose. “Actually, never mind. Don’t answer that.”
“Partying, it seems. Make of that what you will.” He locks his phone and slides it back into his pocket. “Apparently housecleaning couldn’t fix it, so they had to throw the whole mattress out. I wish I’d looked before we arrived.”
“Well, we have two more rooms, right?”
He looks up grimly, looking like he just caught a bullet.
“Nile, I wasn’t finished… those rowdy fucks destroyed two beds in the penthouse. All the mattresses were wrecked except for the master bedroom.”
“What? And they didn’t replace them?”
He scowls. “This was a little over a week ago, so the replacements are still on order. I’ll take the couch.”
“Oh, no. Absolutely not. How old are you? If you sleep on the couch, you’ll get back pain. And then you’ll be really unbearable.”
“I’m not seventy.” His scowl deepens.
“Nope, I’m not giving your grumpy, overbearing ass a reason to play martyr. We both know you’ll use it against me later. Besides, I was a student not that long ago.”
“I’m aware,” he says gruffly, folding his arms and leaning against the door. “Your point?”
“I’m used to roughing it. Dorms, hostels, beds shared with three other people of any gender because we had to.” I smile sweetly. “This is still an upgrade compared to that. And I never wound up with a backache once.”
“I don’t have back problems,” he snarls, stalking back into the living room, shaking his head.
“Whatever you say, Gramps.”
I follow him a moment later.
Honestly, the sofa doesn’t look that comfortable despite being high end, but it’ll do with a nest of blankets and pillows. I’ll never understand why Gramps didn’t bring a nice sectional in here when the room was big enough.
Holden won’t fit comfortably with his ridiculous height, but I will.
I mean, if I curl up a bit.
Maybe if I drag two chairs together? Or I could take the cushions out and put them on the floor. There has to be a solution.
“No argument. Let me take the couch,” I say, sensing him hovering behind me again, still vibrating with anger.
“Cleo—”
“You have knee pain,” I say matter-of-factly.
His brown eyes flash like sun-soaked desert sands.
“Don’t pretend you don’t. I noticed how careful you were walking onto the plane earlier.” I look down. “Just suck it up and take the bed, my guy. I need you locked in if you’re going to be a good guard dog, right?” I venture meeting his eyes again.
Guilt punch.
There’s a darkness swirling in those depths I haven’t seen before.
But if I didn’t notice how he climbed the stairs on and off the jet, I definitely would’ve noticed him massaging his knee with his thumbs before I drifted off. I had an older art teacher who did the same thing, only his issues were more serious.
“Anyway,” I say, “I’m good with this. Really. Oh, and don’t forget the view.” I gesture to the window. “At night, those lights are pretty spectacular. I’d be crazy not to break out my sketch pad and enjoy a little inspiration.”
His lips purse sourly.
I can tell he wants to argue, if he’s not just furious I called out a physical defect he clearly keeps secret.
But Holden just exhales slowly.
“If you insist. No business of mine where you sleep, Miss Blackthorn, as long as you’re comfortable.” The way he says it sounds more like not my problem. “We’ve got the meeting with Fairfax in a few hours, so that should be our focus.”
“Okay, yeah. And will you ever stop Miss Blackthorn-ing me at some point? I have a name. Cleo.”
“Cleo, I’ll be ready,” he throws back.
I spread my hands, oddly satisfied.
That second power nap worked a little magic after all. I feel like I’m ready to take on the world—or at least Jasper Fairfax.
And yes, maybe that’s what I tell myself as I look at the suitcase still clasped in Holden’s hand. The thing must be glued to him.
I still can’t believe it’s hiding the key to the rest of our lives.
“Let’s get a price on this puppy so we can find it a new home. The sooner, the better,” I whisper.
He nods firmly.
If we agree on anything, it’s getting this over with and going on our merry, very separate ways ASAP.
By the time we reach the top of the soaring skyscraper with Jasper Fairfax’s office, my confidence is in tatters.
My palms sweat. I wipe them on the sides of my pants, hoping I don’t leave a mark.
That would be just my luck. Walking in with the biggest break of my life, only to look like I just came from the gym.