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“Yes.” She takes a deep breath. “You’re right. I have looked down on you, and I have treated you badly, and I’m sorry for that. My dad never let me see the other side of the arrangement he had with your father and Simon’s. I knew that sometimes scary people spent time with your fathers, and as I grew up and learned more about it, that’s all I focused on. I had this naïve idea that I could make The Whitney”—she waves a hand around, obviously searching for a word until she finally settles on—“pure. I know how stupid that sounds, and I clearly failed spectacularly. I even married a man that was supposed to make that idea possible, and instead he made everything ten times worse.”
She takes one step forward, and then another, closing the gap between us until she has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes.
“But, no matter what I thought of you, when my life fell apart… you showed up.” She slowly glides her fingers down my arm before finally linking our hands together. “You were an asshole, but I know that if you hadn’t been there, things could have been a lot more… messy.”
“I—”
“Hold on,” she says, squeezing my hand and I nod. “Then, when things got worse and I realized The Whitney was in jeopardy, I knew without hesitation that I could come to you. Even though I viewed you poorly, I knew you loved this hotel more than you might have hated me.”
“I never hated you.”
“I see that now, and I know I never truly hated you either. No matter what thoughts or opinions I may have had about you.”
“Past tense?” I ask, reaching up to trace the line of her jaw where the rising sun has highlighted her in gold and pink. “Does that mean you don’t think it anymore?”
“It means I’m a little more aware of my own prejudices, and privilege.” A tiny smile tugs at her mouth.
“Does that mean you’re willing to make this a real partnership? Combine the light and the dark sides of the business, so we can work together to make The Whitney successful?”
She doesn’t answer right away, and it almost feels like she’s searching my eyes for some hidden truth, but I don’t press her. I can be patient, especially for her.
I do take the chance to move my free hand to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and it’s nice that she doesn’t hesitate at all.
“I promise I'm not trying to be rude, and I'm not saying no... I just don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable being around men like that.”
“I wouldn’t like that either,” I say. “If they looked at you wrong I might alienate more than a few business associates by tossing them off this roof.”
Her laugh breaks the tension between us, and I can absolutely see the angel in her as her beautiful smile is bathed in warm, golden light.
“I mean it,” I insist. “I’m not asking you to sit at the table with me and Z, or even know about every deal we make. I just don’t want to feel like your shameful secret.”
“I think I could handle that.”
“What about me? Do you think you could handle being seen with someone so beneath you?” I squeeze her hand and bite back a smirk. “Can you handle people seeing us hold hands in the hallway?”
“You’re not beneath me,” she says softly, lifting up on her tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on my lips as she adds, “In fact, I definitely prefer you on top of me.”
“Is that right?” The thrill of her acceptance has me scooping her off the ground, and I love the way her skirt rides up as she wraps her legs around my hips while I carry her to one of the tables closer to the edge of the roof. I almost trip over a chair when she steals another kiss, and I practically growl when her little tongue teases mine.
We’re making out like teenagers, and I’m seriously contemplating tearing her panties off to fuck her under the morning sky in full view of the New York City skyline, but I need to hear it one more time.
“So, you’re willing to try this? To see where it goes between us?”
“Yes,” she says, nodding. “I want it. I want to see if we can make this work. In private, and in public.”
“I hope you mean it," I say, reaching under her skirt to grab her panties and yank them down her thighs. “Because I’m not waiting until we get back downstairs to taste you again, and I don’t give a fuck who has a view of this rooftop.”
Chapter Twenty
KATJA
“Good morning, princess.”
As long as I live, I’ll never be a morning person, but even I have to admit I could get used to these early Dex Cohen wake-up calls. His gentle nibbles along my shoulder start to tickle when he gets to the crook of my neck.
“That tickles!” I complain with an uncharacteristic giggle as he pulls my body flush against his and I can feel his morning hard-on poking my ass.
“Christ, I love to hear you laugh first thing in the morning,” he says, never fully taking his lips from my skin. His nibbles turn into a small bite, delivering a zing of pain before adding, “Happy Anniversary, baby.”
