I’m wandering the rooms of my new penthouse, marveling at the size, at the view, at the enormous windows everywhere.
The moment Jasper and I arrived, I opened the door on the pet carrier and Doja shot out like a bullet, scurrying away. There is so much furniture for her to hide under, I don’t know if I’ll be able to find her.
“Shall I open a can of tuna for her?” Jasper asks me as I walk about the apartment, completely distressed.
“No, not yet. The little snot shouldn’t be rewarded for running away,” I tell him, thinking of myself.
When I went to Paris, I thought of it as a reward, even though I was going to school. I wanted to learn, to do something on my own, to be my own person, instead of that one Lancaster girl. For a short period of time, I did whatever I wanted and it was exhilarating. I met a man who was my instructor, and knowing he was interested in me was thrilling. I was young and dumb and completely infatuated. In love with life and everything that came with it. That first taste of freedom was delicious, and I went a little wild with it.
Maybe that’s Doja’s problem. She’s gone wild when presented with new options.
Hopefully she doesn’t pee on anything.
Sigh.
At least this is my family’s place, and not a Constantine apartment. I’d feel even weirder about spending time here, and I already feel weird enough. Thankfully Perry isn’t living with me at my parents’ place, and we’re not living with his mother in Bishop’s Landing.
I’ve never really spent much time there. Did a little research though, and figured out that the Constantine family battles for so-called ownership of Bishop’s Landing with the Morelli family.
Another family I’ve never even heard of.
Clearly, I do live under a rock.
Giving up on Doja, I take a peek inside of each room, wrinkling my nose at one of the bathrooms when I spot its hideous floral wallpaper—definitely not my taste, though it’s the only thing I don’t like in an otherwise beautiful spot. There are two bedrooms that are equal in size, each with an en suite bathroom and I choose the one with the better view, though all of the rooms have a terrific view of the city spread out as far as the eye can see.
“Is this the bedroom you’re choosing, miss?” Jasper asks, appearing in the doorway.
“Yes, it is.” I smooth my hand over the luxurious comforter. “I think this will do.”
“A fine choice, if I must say. Your brother has impeccable taste. I remember he was the one who had the entire apartment redesigned.”
“It is beautiful,” I agree as I gaze about the room. Everything is clean and white, the furniture a rich brown wood, the bed a four poster but not frilly. The black metal frame gives it a sleek line, offset by the sumptuous white comforter and thick faux fur throw blanket draped across the end of the bed. My feet sink into the thick rug beneath them and I stare at a piece of abstract art hanging on the wall, the colors a cool mix of browns and the faintest hint of blue. “I barely remember him living here.”
“Grant was only here for a year before he moved,” Jasper explains. I love how he remembers everything about the family. He’s got a better memory than our own parents and we’re supposed to be the most precious things in their lives. “And most of the time while he was here, the apartment was under renovation.”
“He didn’t even get to enjoy it when it was finished, huh?” My gaze drops to Jasper’s feet just in time to spot Doja walking behind him in the hallway. “Doja! There you are!”
Jasper turns and grabs hold of the cat before she can bolt from his hands. He brings her to his chest and she lays her head on it momentarily. “Your cat, miss.”
“From the way she’s rubbing on you, I’d guess she’s become yours as well,” I say, amusement in my voice.
The only amusement I’ve felt in a while. This entire day has been a struggle. I’ve been an emotional wreck at being forced to move out of my childhood home, but I tell myself this is for the best. Being away from my family isn’t a bad thing.
It’s necessary, especially since I’m getting married.
“Would you like something to drink? A snack perhaps?” Jasper asks.
“I’m not hungry.” I shake my head. “Though I wouldn’t mind a shot of tequila.”
The disapproving look on his face is obvious. “Might I remind you, you’re only twenty.”
If I’d told my mother or father I wanted a shot of tequila, they wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. My mother probably would’ve poured one for me and herself. “I drink alcohol sometimes, Jasper. And you know it.”
He’s the one who helped me find liquor the night I tried to confront my father.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, especially on an empty stomach.”
I blow out a harsh breath. “Fine, you’re right.”
“I’ll prepare you a snack. Something light.” He drops the cat onto the floor and shuts the door before she can make her escape. I notice how he left before I could tell him no.
He’s a tricky guy, that Jasper.
I start putting away my things, starting with my toiletries in the bathroom, which is stunning. White tile everywhere, with thick white towels hanging from the racks and a giant marble countertop. Mother must’ve sent housekeepers over first thing because everything is sparkling clean.
The shower is massive, with floor-to-ceiling glass walls and two showerheads. As if I might share it with someone else.
My cheeks go hot at the thought because the first person I imagine sharing the shower with is Perry. What does he look like naked? He’s tall and broad shouldered and lean. I’m sure he looks decent without a stitch of clothing on. Does he have six-pack abs? Hair on his chest? Thick thighs? What is the size of his co— “Future wife!”
Speak of the devil.
I exit the bathroom, frowning at him. Perry is standing in the center of my bedroom, clad in a perfectly cut navy-blue suit with…
Doja in his arms.
That little traitor.
“Cute cat.” He chucks her under the chin and I don’t think I’ve ever heard her purr so loud. “Yours?”
“Yes,” I bite out, glaring at her. She sends me a look with those golden eyes, pleased with herself and her newfound friend.
“What’s her name?”
“Doja.”
“As in Doja Cat, that chick who sings? I like some of her songs. She’s funny on TikTok.” He keeps scratching my Doja. Even sweet-talks her a little. “You’re pretty, huh? And so soft.”
It should melt my heart to see him be so gentle with my cat, but it only annoys me. “You’re on TikTok?”
It’s the only thing I can think to say.
“Sure. I don’t post anything, but I watch stuff.”
“Like what?” I can’t imagine him on TikTok. I see a lot of posts about witchcraft, romance books, and travel. Oh and food. And cats. Taylor Swift. Doja Cat of course, and damn it, Perry is right.
She’s very funny when she posts.
“Music mostly. Oh and car stuff.” His expression turns sheepish and he drops Doja onto my bed. “I like cars.”
“Right. You even used to race them.”