AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“53rdfloor,” the man announced. Lucas silently handed him a $100 bill and exited the elevator. I thanked the man, who made no acknowledgement, and followed Lucas. Soon we were standing before a grand wooden door, a goldenPH53imprinted in the center.
“PH?” I asked.
“Penthouse,” he said. Then, as if this wasn’t enough, “I have the entire floor.”
I almost choked as he said this.What have I gotten myself into?But I realized this was a best-case scenario—he was exactly who he’d said, and he wasn’t just well-off, he was rich.
“I know it’s a lot,” Lucas said, as if reading my mind, “but I like to think I’m humble, if that counts for anything.”
“It does,” I said, smirking, as he unlocked the door.
“I’m glad.” He smiled, then swung the door open and stepped inside. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
It was breathtaking. The wall directly across from us was all window, offering a clear view of the Los Angeles skyline; the furnishings were not only beautiful but cohesive—it’s often said money can’t buy taste, but obviously Lucas was the exception—and at first glance the place was spotless.
“Wow,” I said, because I didn’t know what else could be said.
As if understanding this, Lucas nodded. “Wow indeed.” Then, making his way to the kitchen, asked, “Can I offer you anything to drink?”
“Yeah, I’ll have some water, please.”
He turned and looked at me, amused. “Seriously, water? After the day we’ve had?”
I chuckled. “I didn’t want to assume you had anything stronger.”
“Try me.”
Everything in me was calling for liquor: gin, tequila, whisky. But I knew how I got when I drank liquor—not only during, but after as well. I wasn’t about to sabotage my best friend’s wedding with a gnarly hangover, and so I asked, “Any wine?”
“White or red?”
I considered. “Red.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A red girl. Figures.”
I blushed and opened my mouth in defense, then realizing he was just messing with me, I bit my tongue and smiled.
“You’re a handful,” I said.
“You don’t know the half of it.” From a wrought-iron wine rack he procured a bottle of wine, which carried a layer of dust fine enough to suggest it was deliberate, a product of aging and not neglect. From this bottle he poured two hearty glasses, each almost overflowing, before I called out, “Careful! I can’t be too hungover tomorrow.”
He laughed, setting the bottle down. “A forward-thinker; I admire that,” he said, as he brought the glasses to an ornate crystal coffee table in the middle of the space, poised elegantly between a deep gray leather sofa and an even more modern flatscreen TV. I was shocked as he set the glasses down directly on the table, with no coasters, but then I remembered that rich people didn’t need coasters.Why protect things that could just as easily be replaced?
I took up my glass, and he his. “Cheers,” he said, and we drank.
One glass became two, and then three. Before long the bottle was empty, and Lucas was returning to the rack for another.
“Cabernet or pinot?” Lucas called from the kitchen.
I hiccupped. “Surprise me.” Full disclosure, I knew nothing about wine, I just wanted to see what he thought I’d prefer.
He galloped over, bottle in hand, a few moments later. “Cabernet,” he announced, and I extended my glass to him. He filled it; I sipped.
“Delicious… very cabernet,” I said, although I hadn’t known what to expect. Wine was wine, and so long as it did its job, I had no qualms.
Lucas laughed. I scowled, inviting further laughter. I couldn’t help but laugh as well—it was contagious, especially his—but after a moment I stopped, genuinely confused.
He looked at me. “I lied to you,” he said.
