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Chapter 17
It wasn't until the driver steered right past the big house on Beacon Street that I realized Brandon hadn't given the driver his home address. My heart sank. For a minute, I'd thought he was going to take me home with him instead of sneaking into my building like a thief. But, of course, that would be too risky. If his ex-wife was watching him, someone was likely camped out by the house, waiting for Brandon to return.
"I had to give it up," Brandon interrupted my thoughts.
I looked back at him. "What?"
"It's part of the divorce agreement that she's supposed to sign."
I pressed my lips together, surprised by the ambivalence I felt. On the one hand, I was sort of happy the place would be gone. It was a palace that had always made me a bit uncomfortable with its opulence, which I now realized more reflected Miranda's expensive taste than Brandon's. Plus, it was the house where he had lived with her, even if just intermittently, and where she had discovered us together.
But it was also a house where I had fallen in love with Brandon. We had first met in its enormous living room, when I had been stranded in his basement during a snowstorm and wandered upstairs to find cell phone service. We had spent countless hours making love in almost every room, and just lounging together in various other spots as well. Just before Miranda had walked in on us, I had agreed to move in there with him.
There was that feeling again––that feeling of being railroaded, blindsided by the pure force of Brandon Sterling in my life. I knew it wasn't really any of my business what he did with his property, but all of the changes were so intense. Would we ever have those moments again where we could just relax? Where we could exist on equal terms?
"Red?" Brandon interrupted my thoughts, tipped my face to look back at him. "The next time I find a home, I want it to be with you. Because you're home to me, Skylar. That's all there is to it."
I relished in the warmth that seeped through my entire body with his words. Everything still felt very overwhelming, but when Brandon looked at me like that, anything felt possible. Maybe I just needed to focus on that.
The car pulled to a stop in front of a large apartment building just a few blocks from Copley Square, close to where Sterling Grove and Kiefer Knightly were both located. Brandon's door opened, and we were greeted by the jovial face of a middle-aged doorman.
"Welcome, Mr. Sterling," he said.
"Hi Gordon." Brandon looked at me. "Will you come up?" he asked hopefully.
I smoothed my hair, looked warily out the car door and then back at him. "Won't we be spotted? Isn't there someone watching?"
"I doubt it. I sent David to Rhode Island and back." He pressed his lips together, then leaned down to touch his nose to mine. "I don't give a shit anyway."
It was bravado, but I appreciated it anyway. "I'll have the driver take me around to the service entrance if there is one," I said, and gave him a brief kiss. "Go. You'll make Big Brother suspicious if you linger here too long."
Brandon's mouth twisted reluctantly, but he gave a short nod. "Other side of the block. There's a garage entrance. Code 24821."
He kissed me back, more thoroughly this time, then closed the door. I ignored the pit that swelled in my stomach as the driver took me around to the garage.
I entered the building easily and then found my way through the service hall into the nicest lobby I had ever seen. The interior was all white and glass, decorated with white marble flooring and massive, modern chandeliers that hung from twenty-foot ceilings. Brandon was waiting for me while he chatted up Gordon the doorman.
"Hey," he said with a bright smile as I approached. He took my hand and pulled me into the crook of his shoulder. "Gordon, this is my girl, Skylar Crosby. She's allowed up anytime."
Gordon gave me a friendly nod. "I'll put her on the list, Mr. Sterling."
I followed Brandon to the elevators, still taking in the mirrors and glass. Everything shined, like we were in the middle of a prism.
"Funny, I never would have put you in a place like this," I said. A million reflections of myself echoing between the twin banks of mirrored elevator doors.
"Yeah, well. Don't hold it against me." Brandon took my hand and kissed my knuckles. "It's a rental."
Once inside the elevator, Brandon punched in a code before the doors closed again. We went up. And up. And up. Until finally the doors opened directly into an enormous penthouse apartment. Brandon placed his keys, wallet, phone, and hat on a small table near the elevator doors. I stepped inside curiously.
The apartment was basically one open room, a wide space that took up one corner of the building's top floor. Two out of the four long walls consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased a panoramic view of Back Bay and the Charles River. Boston twinkled from twenty-seven stories below.
After Brandon flipped on the lights, I took in the rest of the apartment. A kitchen was built against one of the interior walls, complete with a spacious granite-covered island and breakfast bar. The other interior wall was hung with several pieces of modern art, split by a hallway entrance that likely led to bedrooms, bathrooms, guestrooms, or an office.
The open living space was clearly designed around the view. Gleaming slate floors covered all of it, with a spare, modern dining set taking over one corner and an angular, steel-gray sectional couch oriented with two black leather armchairs in the other. A few other cloistered seating arrangements dotted the perimeter of the place, but mostly it was just spacious.
And kind of a box. A beautiful glass box, but a box nonetheless. It was the opposite of where I ever would have expected Brandon Sterling to live.
"What do you think?" Brandon asked behind me.
