Chapter 2
Jeremiah
The large glass door eased open and I stepped inside the expansive lobby, passing the usual doorman. He stood rigid, as if an Army general just arrived and he was in rank. I half expected him to salute me. I thought after all of my years living here, he would ease up, but no.
“Mr. Mason.” He nodded, his eye catching mine shortly before nervously falling to the glossy marble floors.
I gave him a nod as I continued past, the click-clack of my leather wingbacks sounding through the quiet lobby.
It was as if any conversation before I arrived had died down to a murmur.
Something I was used to when I walked into a room.
I ignored the silence. I ignored the looks my way.
I was used to those, too. Some were more inconspicuous than others, and some more blatantly obvious. Men and women alike.
I passed by two businessmen who murmured among themselves as they glanced at me over the glow of their laptops.
Their brows furrowed as they talked in a quiet, serious conversation.
Usually, the men discussed how I got where I am today.
The women, well, their stares were the obvious ones.
The ones that looked up through long lashes as their mouths construed into inviting smirks.
Their internal dialogue wasn’t about how I got where I am, but how they could get with me, one of New York’s wealthiest billionaires.
The gold doors of the elevator opened just seconds after I pressed the button.
I stepped inside, eager to be away from the lobby and everyone in it.
Their spectacle for the evening had come and gone.
I held my keycard to the panel and pressed the button for the top floor.
But just as the doors began to slide closed, a hand interjected them, and the two men from the lobby stepped inside.
Internally, I groaned. Yay. More gawking.
Thankfully, one pressed the button for the fourth floor, so our time together would be short.
For as long as I’d lived in this building, I hadn’t made any acquaintances here, let alone friends.
It was hard to trust people. When you were this wealthy, intentions were skewed.
Aside from Kevin, my one good friend. He lived a few floors below me.
We had both moved in the same week and he couldn’t have given a shit who I was, which was why I liked him.
He was nothing like these two guys on the elevator, casting glances over their shoulder as if I was somehow unaware of them in the seven-by-seven box we found ourselves sharing.
The ride was silent until they exited onto their floor when the whisper of my name trickled through the sliding doors before they shut, leaving me staring at a reflection of myself.
I smirked to myself, wondering what the latest thing they had heard about me, whether a new investment or a new flavor of the week from my pick of New York Fashion Week models.
Most of the time, the hushed conversations I heard weren’t even true, but I didn’t give a shit to correct anyone.
It would have meant I cared, and I didn’t.
Finally, the ding of the elevator sounded and I was met with the familiar front entrance of my penthouse apartment.
I stepped out of the elevator, but stopped as my eyes fell to the brown cardboard box that sat at my door.
I cocked my head curiously. I wasn’t expecting anything.
I bent down to pick it up and found it surprisingly heavy, its contents noisily sliding around inside.
The white label on top wasn’t addressed to me.
“Sadie Lane,” I read aloud before chuckling to myself.
It sounded like a stripper name. I imagined her for a second.
With a name like that, she probably had a school girl aesthetic.
I looked around, as if this were some sort of prank.
Maybe it was Kevin. But no one was there to laugh and point fingers.
It was just me on this floor, and in this small foyer outside my apartment.
Curious, I reached in my pocket, the metal of my keys jingling before I pulled them out.
I pulled one from the keyring and dug it into the packing tape of the box, tearing through the long strip.
I pulled the cardboard flaps and when my eyes met the contents inside, I now knew it had to be a prank.
Staring up at me in bright-colored packaging were various plastic boxes holding an array of sex toys.
It was like an explosion of glittery pinks and purples, and various shapes like rabbits and roses.
Many I had seen before. I pulled one curiously-shaped toy from its box and pressed the button.
It began quivering in my hand. I shook my head in amusement.
I was just about to turn it off and call Kevin to let him know I was onto him, but before I could, the front door of my apartment swung open.
There stood a young woman looking back with wide green eyes, her cheeks turning almost as red as her hair that was fighting to escape the bun atop her head.
As if registering she was caught, her mouth sucked in a quiet gasp, her lips formed into a perfect O.
My eyes lingered on them for a moment, my mind quickly wandering to the various things I could do with that mouth.
But then I remembered there was a stranger in my apartment.
“What the hell?” I asked.
“I-I’m so sorry. My package—well, my friend’s package—was delivered here,” she stammered.
I had no idea who this woman was. But instead of being angry, I found it fun watching her try to explain her way out of the fact that she was in my apartment.
She seemed innocent enough, like an adorable little plaything.
I raised a brow and tilted my head slightly, listening to her ramble on.
I was enjoying this evening’s turn of events.
Most people would probably call the cops when they found someone had broken into their apartment, but she seemed harmless.
“I-I didn’t want to bother with the front desk, and I couldn’t very well ride the elevator up. So I used the fire escape. And then I looked down, and I was stuck up there. It was so high…”
My mouth fell open as I processed what she just said. I looked at her with concern. “Wait. Wait. Wait. You climbed the fire escape? Are you crazy?”
She let out a long-winded sigh and shook her head in defeat. “I just really needed my package.” Her eyes fell to the box tucked under my arm.
“You mean this package?” I asked, gesturing to it and suddenly realized the purple dildo still quivered in my other hand. I quickly pressed my thumb against the silicone button, but instead of turning off, it just began moving faster. The whirring sound filled the silence between us.
“What the…?” I muttered to myself before pressing the button again.
It finally turned off and I placed it back into the box with relief, before looking back at her.
Her green eyes showed no sign of amusement as she stared back at me.
She looked scared as hell, and now that I knew she just harrowed the rickety, metal stairs up here to the top floor. It explained her windswept hair, too.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“You must have wanted these really bad to break into my place…”
She bit her bottom lip, and that right there combined with this box of precarious sex toys, had me thinking this night was about to get a hell of a lot better.
“Why don’t you come in?” I asked, giving her a warm smile.
She looked at me like she didn’t quite believe what I was asking of her.
“I don’t know…” she started. “I just should probably just take my things and go.”
She looked from me to the box I still held in my hands, her eyes unsure. I chuckled to myself. She didn’t look like she had a clue of what to do with any of these things. But me, on the other hand, I could show her exactly what to do with them.
“Stay for a drink.” I said, more of an order than a question. “It will help calm your nerves after your climb up here.”
“O-okay,” she replied, her hesitancy giving in.
I pressed my lips into a reassuring smile and gave her a nod before stepping past her into my apartment.
I flicked the lights on, the room coming to life.
Still carrying the cardboard box, I set it down on the large stone coffee table in the center of the living room, before padding over to the wet bar tucked into the corner of the room.
I watched as she trailed behind, her eyes catching on the box before they settled on the view of the city below.
The view was what sold me on this place.
The floor-to-ceiling windows that gave unobstructed views of the surrounding city and Central Park.
During the day it was any New Yorker’s dream, but it’s the night that got me.
The sky outside now was a deep purple, and my guest was taking it all in.
I realized we hadn’t had a formal introduction.
“It’s Sadie, right?” I asked as I pulled two glass tumblers from the shelf.
“Mhmm,” she answered, and her voice seemed distant as if lost in the city lights.
I pulled a bottle of bourbon from the shelf, not bothering to offer my name. She didn’t seem to know who I was, and I didn’t want to make it that easy. This was refreshing.
I poured the amber liquid into each glass and padded across the plush, cream carpet to where Sadie stood, taking in the curve of her backside in her black leggings.
She turned at my presence and I quickly lifted my gaze before handing her a glass.
She didn’t hesitate before taking a sip.
I followed suit, the spicy drink running down my throat.
I could already see her shoulders lower slightly as they released the tension they held.
I wasn’t sure if the tension was from her breaking in or if it was something else.
“So,” I started pointedly.
She looked up at me and tilted her head slightly, tangled strands of her auburn hair falling across her fair face.
“You really climbed up twenty-seven floors for a package?” I asked, still in disbelief. I looked down at the socks on her feet. “With no shoes…”
“Technically, twenty-four. I live on the third.” Her toes wiggled in the white crew socks.
“Impressive,” I said, taking another sip of bourbon. “I haven’t seen you around before.”
“I just moved in,” she said, looking back out at the city. “It’s temporary though, until I can find somewhere more affordable to live.”
She looked like she was sorting through the thoughts in her head, and for a moment I wished I could climb inside to take a look at what made her brows pull together and her lips purse in quiet contemplation.
“And do you normally break into people’s apartments?” I asked with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
She broke her gaze from the window and looked up at me sheepishly, color staining her lightly freckled cheeks. “This was a first.”
As if realizing how ridiculous it was, she let out a little laugh and shook her head.
I had to give it to her, she was resourceful.
And brave as hell to do what she did. I’d be lying if I wasn’t impressed.
Yes, it was illegal, but I had done my share of illegal things.
I wasn’t anyone to judge. This was a harmless act to get to what she desperately needed, which was that box on my coffee table.
It was clear to me she needed an orgasm.
And before the night was through, I intended on giving her exactly what she came for.