Maid for Each Other(57)

“It was incredible, thank you,” I said, deciding to move on from the things that made me uncomfortable. “I know you don’t care about this stuff and you’ve probably never actually flown economy, but business class was unreal. I had a steak sandwich, four Diet Cokes, and a slice of chocolate cake.”

“On a three-hour flight?”

“Yes,” I said, laughing. “It was ridiculous and insane and I loved every minute of it. I’m actually looking forward to leaving you tomorrow just because I can’t wait to go on the plane again.”

“You really know how to make a man feel special,” he quipped.

I gazed out the window the entire drive to Dex’s apartment, unable to look away from everything I’d always daydreamed about seeing. And when we pulled up in front of his building, which said 10 Sullivan Street in cool lettering, I was met with yet another reminder of how rich Declan really was.

His building was shaped like a triangle, but with curved corners, looking like a tall, shiny island standing in between two streets. I mean, technically, compared to NYC architecture, it wasn’t tall at all; it appeared to be fewer than twenty stories high.

But it was gorgeous.

Leonard opened my door and I stepped out, trying not to gawk like I’d never seen a city before.

But dear God, Manhattan felt the way I’d always imagined it would feel. Everyone walked down the street like they belonged there, and that thrumming energy of the city was virtually pulsing under the sidewalks. It smelled like garbage and delicious food, sounded like conversation and music and car horns, and I had no interest in ever going inside.

But then I felt Dex step out of the car behind me. I turned to see those green eyes all over me again, and my eyes flitted over his dark eyebrows and hard jaw and that mouth that I knew was capable of taking charge.

“Let’s go up to my place, shall we?”

Wordlessly, I nodded and followed him into the building, feeling unbelievably nervous as we said hello to the uniformed doorman and took the elevator up to the seventh floor.

A week ago, the only thing I knew about him was what kind of shampoo he had in his shower, yet now I’d flown across the country to stay with him at his upscale New York City apartment.

He’d been so easy to text, so easy to talk to on the phone, that I’d completely ignored the facts and now a very rich and powerful man was leading me up to his apartment, where I would be staying for the night.

Was he expecting some sort of sexual gratitude for this trip?

I don’t even have pepper spray. Or money for a cab.

I took a deep breath through my nose and forced those thoughts away. I wouldn’t have come here if I sensed he was a bad person—I knew he wasn’t. We were…friends. Plus, this was a once-in-a-lifetime free trip, something out of a movie or a dream, and I wasn’t going to let my neuroses ruin that.

It was quiet on the elevator ride up, and when the doors opened on seven, we stepped out into Dex’s private foyer.

Private because his apartment took up the entire floor.

I couldn’t even manage words as he gave me a quick tour of his place, which had three bedrooms, four bathrooms, and a private terrace.

It was magnificent.

But it wasn’t even about the size; that wasn’t what made it magnificent.

No, it was that the unit had floor-to-ceiling windows, warm wood, and light colors. Unique artwork covered the walls, books were stacked on shelves, and the large leather couch looked worn and buttery soft. Somehow, Declan’s beautiful apartment felt cozy. Like an actual lived-in house.

There was no marble on the floor or shiny golden accents, no sculptures or crystal chandeliers. It was exactly what I’d want to live in if I woke up in a dream and had my own ten-million-dollar condo.

I loved it.

“You haven’t said a word,” Declan said, looking at me with a wrinkle between his eyebrows. “What are you thinking, Mariano?”

I swallowed and felt a little overwhelmed, so I just said, “Your housekeeper does spectacular work.”

26

Vanilla

Declan

I was a relatively impatient person, so normally tourists in Manhattan kind of got on my nerves. They walked too slow, looked around too much while stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, and talked about everything way too excitedly.

But there was something about Abi’s reaction to everything that was like freebased serotonin.

She’d seemed nervous at my apartment, when she was putting her luggage in the guest room and it was just the two of us, and I suspected she was second-guessing her decision.

Which I totally understood.

I’d been asking myself over and over again, since I got the damn tickets, what the hell I was doing.

Was this entanglement a good idea?

I was basically just following the urge to be with her, the enjoyment of being around her, but did I want it to go anywhere?

That was what I needed to figure out.

I’d been out of the dating pool for a long time because I had no patience for bullshit, but I liked the idea of Abi in my life. She was funny and smart and easy to be with, so having her in my life as a friend would be great.

But I couldn’t deny the attraction and the chemistry, especially when the kisses we’d shared were always on my mind. Twenty-four-fucking-seven.

Dear God, the woman had gotten under my skin.