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I head along the hallway to the bedroom. A double bed, not made. Crap, I didn’t think about that. A wardrobe. One small chest of drawers. More of the white walls and dark wood. I cross the hall into the bathroom. Everything is white and looks like someone did a run on IKEA’s entire budget bathroom range, but it’s clean. I turn the shower knob. It works. That’s a plus.
Okay, it’s not the Ritz but it will do.
When I walk back into the living room, there’s a cardboard box resting on the kitchen counter. Brooks is now holding a can of oil and fiddling with all three locks on the door.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask.
‘Fixing your lock.’
Duh.
I lift the lid on the cardboard box. ‘What’s this?’
He speaks without turning away from his task. ‘I figured you would need a few things. Water, towels, bed linens. Sorry I didn’t have any kale or arugula in my fridge.’
My mind wants to throw out some quick-fire remark but my heart stops me. It’s kind of… touching, that he thought of me. So instead, I thank him and set about emptying the box.
When he is satisfied with the locks, he opens and closes the door a few times. Then he sets off wandering around the apartment, checking the balcony doors and the locks on the windows. I silently admit it’s nice to have a man in my temporary home, wanting to keep me safe. Maybe Brooks has a decent side after all, no matter how miniscule it might be.
‘Is this place like yours?’ I ask when he comes back into the living room.
‘I have a two bedroom but the layout is similar. Same view.’
I find glasses and pour us each a glass of water, sliding one along the kitchen worktop to him. ‘I don’t understand why they put the buildings so close together. I mean, who really wants to stare at someone else’s apartment?’
He puts down his glass and exhales while shaking his head. ‘Sorry it’s not Buckingham Palace, princess.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. Your gym does well; you could surely afford a view.’
‘Wow. Just when I think you might be human, you prove to me that you’re nothing but a spoiled brat. My place works for me. You have no idea what I have coming in or out of my bank.’
‘The lift doesn’t even work.’
He starts to leave and I put a hand on his arm to stop him. Wow, that’s firm.
‘Sorry. Sorry. I come out with things before I think.’
‘Stop saying sorry. Just don’t do things to apologize for.’
I nod. ‘Sorry.’
‘Christ.’ He sounds angry but the tiny curve of his lip when I slap my hands across my mouth betrays his amusement.
‘I apologize,’ I tell him, smirking.
‘I suppose you have the best view in London?’
‘Not especially, though my folks rent my sister and me a place in a great location.’
‘Your parents pay your rent? Are you kidding?’
‘I… no. I intend to pay for it when I have a steady income.’
‘That’s incredible and yet doesn’t shock me at all.’
I want to give him a sassy retort but I don’t have one. Deep down, I know that letting my parents bankroll me at twenty-eight is a little pathetic but it really is the done thing in Chelsea. I open my mouth and close it again without making a sound.
‘I’ll leave you to it. You’ve got my number if you need me.’
