AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hazel, it’s not a big deal. I asked you yesterday if you’d like to skip work today and instead come by my penthouse for a relaxed chat about how you’ve been doing. You don’t have to come.”
His voice was so warm. He seemed so generous at the moment. But there was no way she was going to turn down time with her professor. She just wasn’t built that way.
“Do I have your address?” she asked.
“I can email it to you.”
And with that, she was on her way to her boss and teacher’s home to talk about her career, not having slept in more than roughly forty-eight hours. She managed to find the proper building and a parking space and made her way inside, trying not to look drunk due to how exhausted she was.
The doorman sent her to a small elevator behind the stairs, which he opened with a key on his belt, and she leaned against the cool metal of the wall as the lights flickered from floor to floor. She was going to see Cartwright soon. That thought made her giddy for some reason. Was it just because she was tired? No… she was always happy to see him, especially lately. She felt impossibly lighter, knowing that she could forget school for a few hours and maybe just listen to Ian telling her things in that deep, velvety British voice of his.
When the elevator reached the top, it stopped and chimed. The doors remained closed for a moment, while Hazel blinked sleepily. They opened to an expansive apartment that must have encompassed the entire floor. A gray and white sofa that could have seated ten people stretched across the middle of the floor and sat on a snow white, triangle-shaped rug. Hazel stepped out and looked around in awe. She’d never seen an apartment that looked so much like a mansion before. Well, not outside of a movie.
There was a lighting fixture floating over the staircase that looked like fourteen tiny suns hovering in the air, with dozens of glittering stars around them. She moved toward it slowly, transfixed like a moth to a flame.
“You like it?”
Hazel jumped so hard that Dr. Cartwright had to take a step back. She’d nearly dropped her bag. “God, sorry. I guess I didn’t realize the elevator would go all the way up to your apartment, uh, mansion floor.”
“Penthouse.” Cartwright laughed.
He was dressed down, for him. Instead of the ever-present suit, he wore a sleek, fitted sweater that clung to the shape of his muscles, offering a view of him that was at once sexy and relaxed. Below that was a sight that Hazel had never imagined she’d witness in her lifetime.
Jeans.
Granted, they looked to be expensive jeans, but they were still jeans. Dr. Cartwright, lounging around his house in jeans. And socks. He wasn’t even wearing shoes.
“Noticed that, did you?” Cartwright said, looking down at his feet as well. “I try to keep outside dirt to a minimum. It’s hell on the white carpet and chairs, and my maid Marta does work hard enough cleaning the place already.” Cartwright held out his hand. “I could take your bag? And your jacket? And would you like a glass of wine?”
“Um, sure. Do you want me to take off my shoes, too?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.” Cartwright set her things on a shelf by the door and kept walking. To the far left was an open kitchen area with a small island in the middle, and a wine rack next to the black refrigerator. All the appliances in the kitchen were black, a distinct contrast to the white of the rest of the apartment.
Hazel kicked off her shoes and put them beside the shelf by the elevator. She understood now that the doorman had opened up the private elevator for her. No one else could’ve gotten up here without Cartwright’s express request. She went into the kitchen where he was opening up a bottle of wine.
“Do you like red?”
“Yeah. I prefer it.”
“Excellent.” With a twist of his wrist, he uncorked the wine and poured two glasses. “I don’t mean to presume. You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. It’s simply that when I was in university, we’d always have a few after finishing exams.”
“No, I think that tradition definitely translates across the pond.” Hazel took the offered glass and raised it. “To being a quarter of the way done! The end is near!”
“Cheers.” Cartwright clinked his glass against hers and sipped. “Mm. A quarter of the way?”
“It’s my senior year. So I’m halfway done with the semester, one-fourth of the way done with my last year.” Hazel sighed and leaned back against the island. “You might be right about getting a job after I graduate. I could always go back to grad school.”
“True enough. And with the right employer, they might support you in that endeavor.”
