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She nods, accepting the explanation. “Well, you’re going to have to do a lot more than research if you want to know the color of my underwear. I may talk about smutty romance in my videos, but I certainly don’t talk aboutmysmutty romances.”
Now it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows. “Are you telling me I can expect a smutty romance with you?”
“Maybe if you convince me you’re worth trading in my book boyfriends. Though I doubt you will, since they’re pretty perfect.”
I turn onto a side street and then into my driveway. The electric gate slowly opens as Madison stares up at the three-story building in front of her. I always wondered what it was like to look up at a mansion in New York City for the first time. As a kid, I couldn’t have imagined it.
I take a second to appreciate the home that cost more than most people make in a lifetime. The tall plaster columns framing the front door, the frosted glass A in the center of the door. There’s no garage since no garage could hold all my cars, but there is a circle drive for my non-existent guests to park. Everything about my home could be in a movie, and that’s why I bought it.
I expect some kind of awe from Madison. Instead, she says, “I always figured you for a penthouse in the sky kind of guy.”
It’s impossible to impress this woman.
“You can’t park twelve cars at a penthouse,” I say as I drive through the gate and hit another button. The section of the driveway directly in front of us lifts into the air, revealing a second pathway, one that goes to my underground parking garage. Madison’s eyes get even wider as she sees what’s happening.
“You have a freaking bat cave,” she mutters.
“Pretty much. Though, I’m not nearly as selfless a person as Batman, and you won’t have to worry about me staying out all night fighting crime.”
She huffs and says, “Just staying out all night schmoozing with porn stars in bikinis…”
I cringe. Maybe I shouldn’t have ever brought up all the other women. I haven’t figured out how to deal with that problem yet. “I thought we agreed to just have fun,” I remind her.
“Yeah. I also said you only get one date. I’m glad we’re sticking to our previous agreements.”
She isn’t making this easy, but I think that only makes it better. It’s been a long time since I had to win a woman that I forgot how much fun the hunt can be.
I drive into my bat cave and pull into the parking spot for the Lambo. Jumping out of the car, I smile as I walk around the car and open the door for Madison. “So chivalrous,” she says, but it’s got a sarcastic tone to it.
She’s at least smiling, though, and that’s something. I lead her to the elevator, and when I hit the button, the door immediately dings and slides open. “If this opens up to some secret bookcase, you might have convinced me you’re a real life romance hero.”
“Sadly, it’s just a normal elevator. I’ll have to prove my hero qualifications some other way.”
Chapter 15
Madison
God, Emery is growing on me with every conversation. He’s damn near perfect, and now I find out he has a secret bat cave? The only thing that’s keeping me from diving into this pool of crazy instead of dipping my toes in is the fact that he’s a known playboy.
Though, to my knowledge, he’s not a cheater. He just likes to play the field, and he’s been completely honest about it from the beginning. There aren’t any scandals attached to him, and nearly every woman that’s talked about him has had nothing but swoon-worthy things to say.
I know because I might have done an inordinate amount of research on the man instead of working today. I wanted to find something damning, something that would make me run for the hills or at least not answer the door when he knocked.
But there’s nothing there except that he likes gorgeous women, and he treats them well.
The elevator opens onto a balcony overlooking the Great Room with twenty-foot ceilings. Next to us is a staircase that flows down to the first floor like water, splaying out in a semi-circle like a scene from Gone with the Wind. It’s gorgeous, but it feels barren. No paintings or photos. Pretty furniture that looks almost comfortable even for ritzy stuff.
I keep looking around, trying to get a picture of Emery’s personality from his home, but it’s like someone cleansed everything personal from the decorations.
Like it’s a hotel.
Emery walks down the stairs in his suit, and for a moment, my mind pictures him in a set of tails, his slightly wild hair smoothed out. When he turns around and gives me a grin, a shiver runs through me. He really could be a romance novel hero. He’s the rake, and the rake always gets the girl.
Except that romance novels aren’t real. The rake in real life ends up being a scumbag. There is no Mr. Darcy waiting for me.
But if he is?
“Are you coming?” Emery asks.
