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I was intimidated by the ornate lobby I stepped into. Even more so when a haughty concierge flanked by a burly security guard called, “Excuse me? Can I help you?” in a tone that clearly implied I was in the wrong place.
“I’m Lily Anderson,” I said, hoping Maureen had remembered to let them know I was coming. “I have a package for Conall Walker.”
Don’t tell me to leave it here, I begged silently.
Luckily, the concierge just nodded and directed me to the elevator bank. There was a private one that went exclusively to his floor, and the concierge called for it from his desk. The carriage that carried me up twenty-four floors was absurdly luxurious. Marble tiles, a cut crystal chandelier, and velvet wallpaper. I couldn’t help but run my fingers over the bristly gold walls, wondering if it was Con’s style.
When it opened on his private lobby, I decided it wasn’t. Con’s space was the opposite of opulent. It was luxurious, but in a stripped down, austere way. He didn’t have much furniture, but what he did have looked as though it had come out of the pages of a catalog. One that only millionaires should bother to subscribe to. The space was smaller than I expected, but I realized it was because the terrace that wrapped around his apartment was huge. The floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, dining room, and kitchen all had the ability to roll up like garage doors, eliminating the division between indoor and outdoor. There were potted plants everywhere that replaced the usual trappings of a home.
I rubbed the leaf of a Ficus between my fingers, intrigued. Con had a few plants in his office, but I hadn’t taken him for a gardener. But these all looked as though they’d been tended by an expert hand. I made a mental note to ask Halley about it, and then immediately discarded it. Even with the veneer of respectability that being sent here on an errand gave me, I didn’t want Halley to have any reason to suspect I was interested in her father. Not for any reason.
Anything that happened between us had to stay a secret.
I found his office right where Maureen said it would be—in the back of the apartment across from a closed door that I assumed was his bedroom. The back of the place continued the inside-out theme. The wall was a sliding glass door from which I could see a putting green on the backside of the terrace. A lemon tree grew beside his desk, a small greenish fruit growing at the end of a branch, weighing it down.
I set the envelope down and felt a curious sense of disappointment. This was it. I was done with what I’d been sent to do. I was going to leave now, and everything would remain exactly as it was. Suspended between attraction and action. I walked out of his office reluctantly, but instead of going back toward the front, I reached for the knob of his bedroom door. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t resist. This might be my only chance to see his space. The way my plan was going, my job would be over before I got him to kiss me again. Much less do the things I dreamed about.
My nerves were jumping all up and down my spine as I turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly, half expecting to see him glaring back at me from the other side, asking what the fuck I thought I was doing. The room was empty though. Wide and spare. The dark gray flooring continued throughout. A king-sized bed that looked like something you’d find in a luxury hotel stood against one wall. It had crisp white sheets folded over a dark gray comforter. There was a sliding glass door that led out to the wrap around patio against one wall. Two armchairs with a small table between them in one corner. There was some sort of fern on the small table, but other than that, the room was curiously bare. It really did look like a hotel room instead of someone’s bedroom.
Maybe that was why I felt emboldened to walk in. To walk all the way to the sliding glass doors and peek out through the wooden blinds at the view. That was where I was standing when I heard the elevator doors slide open in the lobby.
Panic balled itself up and lodged in my throat. I froze for a few crucial moments, ridiculous ideas running through my head. I could hide under the bed. No, there was no dust ruffle. He’d see me. I could try to let myself out onto the patio, but there was no way he wouldn’t hear me. And what was my plan after that, exactly? To hide out there until he left for work tomorrow morning? I turned around, threw one panicked look at the bathroom, then flew across the room.
I didn’t need to hide. I had a reason to be here. I just couldn’t be caught in his bedroom. But my delay had cost me. I was just stepping out of the room when Con appeared at the mouth of the short hallway.
My mouth went dry at the sight of him. He’d never looked taller, broader, more imposing. There was a darkly incredulous look spreading across his face as he registered what door I was trying to pull shut behind me.
“Lily,” he said, his voice almost pleasant but for the iron undertone. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
