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I frown. “Why not?” I’d have to go to work from his apartment. I would need a change of clothes at least.
“You’ll see,” he says cryptically, reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve a keycard, which he hands to me. “We added some security measures at the hotel, but this will allow you access my apartment whenever you want.”
I take the card from him. He’s just given me the keys to his apartment. I don’t even know what to say. I want to ask if he’s ever given any other woman so much access to him. I want to hope that it means something. I smile and slip it in my purse. “Thank you.”
“I’ll leave for San Francisco on Thursday morning,” Landon tells me. He sounds regretful. “A plane will be here for you Saturday morning. I’ll have someone take you to the airport.”
Thursday to Saturday. Two whole days when I won’t see him. I swallow the ache, the twinge of sadness. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“To me being gone?” He’s teasing, and there’s a small smile playing on his lips.
“No…” I chuckle, “to joining you on Saturday.”
He squeezes my hand. “Can you go out tomorrow night?”
“Yeah,” I search his face. “What’s happening?”
“A friend of mine.” He grins when I raise my eyebrows. “A friend of mine is launching a new product for the American market. Some new European champagne brand. There’s a mixer. I want you to come with me.”
I realize that there’ll probably be press there, people who’ll talk about the fact that I was there with him. I would be there as his girlfriend. If I still have any misgivings, any desire to hold back, this is my chance to make a U-turn.
“Of course.” I smile at him. “I’d love to.”
He smiles back. Joe slides into the front of the Gilt building and stops the car.
“Enjoy your day,” I whisper, placing a quick kiss on his lips before reaching for the door handle.
“Wait.” Landon’s hand snakes out and catches my arm. He leans forward and kisses me properly, for long enough that I can feel the shocks of pleasure in my toes.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he says.
I nod and stumble out of the car on unsteady legs. I can hardly wait.
AFTER work, Joe is waiting to drive me over to the Swanson Court. I send a quick message to Laurie on my way over, telling her I won’t be home all night.
At the underground car park, I thank Joe politely, before following the security staff who directs me towards the elevator. The card Landon gave me ensures that when I get to the penthouse floor, the doors slide open, letting me into Landon’s apartment.
I’m almost overwhelmed again by the size and beauty. Like the rest of the hotel, the architecture reflects the time when it was built, and the décor is luxurious, yet comfortable. After I go upstairs to leave my bag in Landon’s bedroom, I come back to the living room to look more closely at the pictures of Landon’s family. I’m charmed by a photo of Landon as a tow-headed but serious-faced child, and one of the whole family laughing at the beach.
Later, I wander to the balcony, then back inside to place a call to the hotel restaurant. I order dinner on hotplates for when Landon arrives. After that, there’s nothing else to do but wait for him, so I lay on one of the sofas. To stop myself from sleeping off, I start to play with my phone.
I still get emails from the search alert I set up for Landon, but I’ve been ignoring them for the most part. At first I didn’t want any reminders of him, and then later, I was determined to avoid something that felt very much like spying on him. Now I see that another alert has popped up, and out of curiosity I decide to open it, thinking it might be the picture Chelsea was talking about.
The first news story is about the Swanson Court Hotels, and I frown as I read the first paragraph describing how Landon is opening the Gold Dust amidst rumors and accusations of coercion in the acquisition of properties.
The publication is a reputable online news source, so I know it’s not just gossip. I frown, wondering how serious the accusations are, and why Landon hadn’t let on that there were any problems.
The next story is older, on a gossip site, and there’s a grainy picture of me and Landon at the airport from Sunday, with a headline screaming about billionaire Landon Court and his ‘companion.’
I’m still laughing about that when I open the next story. This one is newer and has two images with no accompanying write-up. In one of the pictures, I see Landon and some woman in front of the SCT Building. The second one has Landon and the same woman having dinner at a restaurant. In the first shot, Landon is holding a car door open for the woman, and she’s smiling up at him. In the second one, their faces are close together and they’re both laughing, her hand on his arm. I look for the date of the article and my heart goes cold. It’s from yesterday.
I stare at the woman’s face, trying to remember if I’ve ever seen her before from all the other articles I’ve read about Landon, but I can’t recall the face from anywhere. The quality of the images is not so good, but from what I can see, she’s beautiful, with glossy black hair hanging halfway to her back, and full, red lips. I close my eyes. Last night, when he’d said he was working late, he’d been meeting with this woman.
He’d lied to me.
And then he came to my apartment. My memories from last night are so clear that I can still feel him slipping into bed with me, freshly showered, after spending his whole evening with her.
I’m suddenly trembling. The thought of Landon leaving me, at some remote date is something I’ve schooled my mind to expect and accept, but the idea of him being intimate with another woman, while lying to me and making me feel like I matter to him…
