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All those gold-digging women smiling at him, and acting as if they’re important when, really, all they want is his money…and sex. I cringe at the thought. I’m not an idiot.
I know that my dad is an attractive man, and women of all ages flock to him. But when you’re that rich and that well known, how do you ever find a woman who you can be yourself with? The answer is you can’t. Hence why my dad has been a single bachelor for as long as I can remember.
The building to Platinum Apartments is as impressive as it sounds. And I get the entire penthouse. I guess that is the safest option, even though I’ve no idea what I’ll do with all that space.
Rock pulls all of my suitcases out onto the sidewalk, and the doorman helps with my luggage. I carry Pirate as he purrs. I already let him out for a pee on the grass outside, holding his lead so he didn’t get scared with the traffic. He’s fully toilet trained, but I know he’ll take some adjusting to get used to the new place.
This building has facilities that are top notch.
A full gym.
Two pools.
A sauna and spa.
A tennis court.
Private parking.
It even has a cafe on the street level that opens out onto a magnificent terrace.
Once we’re in the elevator and heading toward the top floor, Rock says, “Cash will be comin’ over in a few to introduce himself.”
I frown. “I won’t be going to the clubhouse?”
Rock looks at me strangely. “You want to?”
I shrug. “Sounds like a walk on the wild side. Why not?”
“Excuse me for sayin’, but you don’t exactly strike me as the wild type.”
I glare at him. “Why not? You’ve known me all of five minutes and you think you know me?”
He smirks. I try not to notice how his whole face lights up when he smiles, and this isn’t even a full smile.
My heart beats rapidly, and I know it’s stupid.
“No, but I know your type.”
I snort. “I doubt it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You think the only chicks I know are ones who hang around the clubhouse?”
I turn to him. “Aren’t they?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Somethin’ about me seems to appeal to the good girls.”
My mouth goes dry at his words…good girls. Is that what he thinks I am? A good girl?
“You think I’m a good girl?”
“Bad girls don’t go to Yale, sweetheart.”
I exhale slowly, trying not to let my temper surge. “Yes, they do.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t think so.”
I fold my arms over my chest defensively. “Have you ever been to Yale?”
