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“So when is it officially ours?” I asked. My eyes dropped to her forearm again, but her scarf hid the area. I couldn’t help wondering. She seemed embarrassed, so of course I wanted to know more. That bruise was nasty. And it sure as hell hadn’t been there at La Fève.
“Formal closing should be in about two weeks,” she said, smoothing a hand across the top of her head. “I’d give you the keys today, but I think your brothers would be upset they missed the ceremonial passing of the keys.”
I cracked a grin. “You know them well.”
“I know all of you well.”
My smile faded, and I jerked my chin toward the elevators. “Let’s go up. I want to hear your stipulations before I get too deep into the blueprints.”
“Of course.” Her heels clicked over the floor as we moved toward the elevator. The air between us felt a lot different than the first time we’d come here. Then, it had been tense with anger. Now, it was tense with expectation.
Who would make the first move?
The elevator doors opened as soon as she pressed the button. Inside, Cora pressed the button for the eleventh floor.
“So floor eleven is where you’re hoping to set up?”
“That’s what I had thought. Why, do you want it?” She lifted a brow.
“I’ll let you know when I see it. If it’s a good floor, I might want to keep it for myself.” I cracked a grin to let her know I was teasing. She returned the smile. We watched each other for a few moments as the elevator soared upward, something hanging unspoken between us.
“So…what’s with the scarf?”
Her brows knit together. “What do you mean?”
“Why do you have it? It’s like eighty degrees outside.”
She shrugged. “In case I get chilly.”
“The air is off in the building.”
“I had it more for the car ride.”
I sniffed, holding out a hand. “Can I see it?”
The elevator reached the eleventh floor and the doors slid open. She looked at me like I was crazy. “Why do you want to see it?”
I followed her off the elevator. “It’s pretty. Now give it to me.”
She gave me a side-eye as we started down a blue-carpeted hallway. “Can we focus on this? I need to show you my idea.”
I left it for now. She smoothed her hair again. Something was off about her today, but I couldn’t pin it down. There could be a million different reasons, not the least likely that I watched her masturbate herself to shuddering orgasm via video call while I was at a friend’s house on Saturday night. And anyway, what did I know about her anymore?
The answer was: nothing. I knew the ghost of Cora Margulis. I didn’t know a thing about Cora Margulis-Rossberg.
Cora played with the tip of her ponytail as we walked. This was a former office suite, though it looked caught in the nineties. Sky blue Berber carpet stretched beneath our feet.
“So this is currently just offices,” she said, her voice unnaturally soft. “But I’m thinking that this would be the easiest level to convert to what I have planned.”
I nodded, watching her intently, trying to figure out what was going on beneath her surface. Wondering if this was truly spidey senses or just the effect of my certifiable delusion that we were somehow meant for each other.
“I wanted to preserve some of the layout, in fact. Like probably this entire side here.” She swept her arm in the direction of a bank of offices. “But I do think this whole floor needs to be gutted and revamped.”
“Sorely needs an update,” I confirmed, crossing my arms.
“So what I’m planning on executing first would be a community drama school.”
I blinked a few times. “So how does office space work for drama?”
