Page 28 of His Love

But now that it was obvious that I had the cash, Sarah relaxed and her aggressive attitude dissipated.

“No worries,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “But I wouldn’t go around with that much cash on you because it’s dangerous. Aren’t you afraid of being mugged?”

I stood there, one hand still in my purse.

“I guess not,” came my stammer. “I’ll be more careful.”

“You should!” came Sarah’s voice as she sailed into the kitchen. “You never know what’ll happen, Kitty.”

And with that, my roommate disappeared. Taking a deep breath, I looked around the living room, or what passed for a living room. Because in NYC, they use every square foot of space, and in this case, we’d partitioned the common area to form another bedroom. As a result, the common area wasn’t much more of a ten by ten windowless box, narrow and cramped.

But still, it was my home, and I hadn’t been here for almost a month. Luke’s apartment was so luxurious that I missed it already. But I stopped myself with a jerk. THIS is where you live, Kitty, came the voice in my head. This is what your salary pays for, and you can’t expect more.

That was true. Slowly opening the door to my room, I stepped inside. It was exactly how I’d left it. Warm-up outfits were strewn about messily, with a saggy mattress on the floor and sad, water-stained walls. What I’d give to go back to the luxury of Mr. Lyons’s apartment. I’d love to roll around on one of those king-size beds again.

Suddenly, my mind hiccupped, things coming into sharp focus. The billionaire had five bedrooms with five king-size beds. Why the hell would a single man need so much space? I’ve heard of guys who do up their apartments so that there’s an entertainment room, a movie theater, and even a bowling alley sometimes. But five bedrooms? There was something weird, and suddenly, Miss Lane’s voice rang out in my head.

“One year there were two,” came her nasty cackle. “Mary and Marie. Remember? It was hard to keep the names straight.”

Oh god, oh god. There were other women, weren’t there? Mr. Lyons was possibly seeing other women right now, and I was no one special. The blue bedroom was the one he used when I was around, but what about when I wasn’t? There was the red bedroom, another one done up in pale green, and still a third with a gray interior. Holy shit, there were other women. Those sheets had to be smeared with other women’s fluids, rumpled with traces of another female’s messy ecstasy.

I gasped leaning over, lungs tight. No! God no! The revelation was like a tidal wave crashing down on my head, almost knocking me out. How could he?

But the voice in my head took over again. That’s just your imagination, it tried to calm me down. That’s just your imagination running away with you. Luke is a rich guy, and you don’t know how billionaires roll. Maybe he wants five bedrooms because that’s just how he is. You don’t know.

But I could find out. Scrambling back into my jacket, I flew out the door, hailing a cab.

“Central Park West,” was my gasped command, fingers trembling, face flushed. “Central Park West at Sixty-First Street.”

“Right away, Miss,” grunted the old cabbie as the car rocketed from the sidewalk. And we plowed uptown before screeching to a stop in front of the imposing stone building.

I stepped out, looking up. The spires seemed to extend to the sky, lighting up the night like stars. But I was here on a mission, one that was crucial, and taking a deep breath, I braced my shoulders.

“Hi Henry,” I said with a fake smile at the doorman. He was used to seeing me now. “I’m here to see Mr. Lyons.”

“Oh hi,” smiled the elderly man, dapper in a blue and green bellhop uniform. “Just give me one minute,” he said, holding a finger up while nodding into the phone.

But I wasn’t going to wait. When the elevator dinged, I slipped inside.

“Miss, Miss!” called Henry, still stuck to his phone. “I should call up, I should let Mr. Lyons know you’re here!”

“No need,” I said. “I’m on my way!”

And with that, the doors closed. My body felt weak, the air in my lungs coming fast. Because for the first time, I was going to surprise Mr. Lyons. I was going to burst into that apartment and confront him, seeing with my own eyes.

But when the elevator dinged at the penthouse, my courage ebbed. Knees weak, I reconsidered. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to act the ferocious lioness, to attack like a madwoman. Maybe I should be nice, and give him the benefit of the doubt? Or at least try to be calm and solve our problems in a thoughtful way?

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