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That was all in the contract I’d signed.
I decided not to ask his motivation. It would be easier on my heart to just not know, but whatever was causing the change in his behavior, I dug it.
Less than a minute later, we reached his building and took the elevator up to his penthouse. The last time I was here, I’d been in only his kitchen, living room, and bedroom.
I hadn’t forgotten what any of those rooms looked like.
But this time, when we entered the foyer and walked into the massive open floor plan, I saw his home in a whole different way. The sun was setting, casting a light glow, and the floor-to-ceiling windows showed just how large and tall and spacious the space was. I didn’t know if he’d hired an interior designer, but whoever had picked out the furniture and artwork and decor had done an incredible job. His condo wasn’t just masculine; it was warm and inviting—the opposite of his normal personality.
“The guest room is this way,” he said.
The primary bedroom and massive en suite were on one side of the living room, but this was on the other, and there were a few doors in the hallway.
As we passed each one, he pointed and said, “Smaller of the three bedrooms. Guest bathroom. And now your room, which has its own en suite.”
I stalled next to him in the doorway. “Wow. This is bigger than my bedroom at my apartment.” The room was decorated in the same cool gray and black tones as the rest of the condo. A flat-screen hung on the wall. Art was above the bed. There was a chair in the corner and still plenty of area to set up a tripod and lighting.
He placed the bag on top of the beautiful light-wood dresser. “This is where you’ll stay when you move in. If you want to leave anything here after tonight, do it. It’s one less thing you’ll have to bring later.”
Why was it so hard to take a deep breath?
Was it the realization that I’d be spending every night under the same roof as him, only on the other side of his living room?
Or that this would be my room?
Or that this condo was about to be my new home?
Or that I wished I would be spending every night in his bedroom instead?
I felt his eyes on me as he said, “I’m required to make you feel comfortable while you’re here. If there’s anything you want to change or add or redecorate, I’ll make sure it gets done.”
I hadn’t missed the way he’d worded that statement.
The coldness behind it.
He was still on his best behavior. I was just reminded that he really didn’t want me here.
That once we hit the one-year mark, I’d be long gone.
“It’s perfect.” I turned toward him. “I don’t want to change a thing.” He stared at me silently, scanning my right eye and then my left. I needed a break. I needed to think. I needed to just be in a space where I didn’t smell him. “Do you mind if I take a shower? I can feel work all over me.”
“Yeah, sure. Room’s all yours.” He turned around and walked down the hallway.
I shut the door.
When that didn’t feel like enough, I locked it.
And when my feet felt too numb to move, I put my back against the wall and slid down until my butt hit the carpet.
I didn’t know why, but when I tried to take a deep breath, my throat felt even tighter than before.
“It smells incredible in here,” I said as my nose filled with the scent of pizza.
I was padding my way across the hardwood floor of the living room, my hair soaking my tank top, my skin slick from the lotion I’d just rubbed across it.
Grayson was sitting on the couch, his back to me, ESPN playing on the TV. At the sound of my voice, he looked over his shoulder, his stare tiptoeing down my body.
With each inch, I felt it grow more intensely.
