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“It can wait.”
“Can you?” My laughter was met by a pointed stare. “Go. I will watch something on that obscenely large TV.”
“I'll be an hour, tops.”
When he doesn't appear, I decide to open the envelope Amberley had thrown in the bottom of the bag she had arrived with earlier this morning. Dropping down in the chair, I tear the heavy paper and peer inside. A stack of paper and something shiny glints back at me. Turning it upside down, I let the contents slide out, and a small key drops out onto my knees. Frowning, I hold it up, expecting an explanation alone from the small object, but it's a bog-standard key. Leafing through the papers, I begin to read, but the words, although manageable, aren't sinking in, not fully.
“What's that?” Cain's deep voice pulls my head up from where I gape in shock.
“If I'm reading it correctly, a new apartment. The building I live in is undergoing repairs,” I explain, scanning the last few sentences. “My flat has damp, and whilst the work is carried out, I’m being moved up a few floors.” I pass the paperwork to him as though it's the most natural thing to do. He, a man with a cash revenue big enough to sink my apartment block into the ground. Our worlds may have collided briefly, but he takes it, humouring me.
He picks me up and lowers into the chair with me in his lap. “Good.” He begins reading the document as I chew at the skin on my lip.
“I can't see anything about the cost—it's larger than my current flat.” I worry, flicking through the pages at the corner as he absorbs the first page.
“You're to be out by Wednesday,” he states.
“They’ve hardly given me much notice,” I point to a contradictory sentence in the document. “What does that mean?” I huff, irritated by the circling instructions. Each means something else, and neither one makes much sense.
“That it’s a permanent move, and your lease has been extended. Basically, it’s a rolling contract—no inflation. You’ll be paying what you do now,” he summarises.
“But it’s much bigger.”
“And you were overpaying for the shi—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I snap out quickly. He was going to say shithole. I love my little apartment. Sure, the building is a dive, and the area a little sketchy, but I made it my own.
“You were being overcharged, trust me,” he drawls. And I do. He owns multiple properties. His entire career is based around real estate.
“London’s not cheap,” I defend.
“But some people are, and whoever owns that building was fleecing you.”
I suck in a short breath and shift, crossing my legs and flicking through to something else I read. “So I can move in today?”
“Sure can. You’ve got to be out of your apartment by Wednesday,” he confirms.
“But I don’t have enough furniture,” I blurt.
Cain laughs. “Take the week off, move in and buy what you need.” His flippant response has me going rigid in his lap.
“I can't do that. I just returned after having time off.” I tug the papers out of his hands.
Cain hauls me back into his chest. “Lauren, you're entitled to a holiday. Take it off and get settled in.”
I shake my head and relax into his hold, reading the contents of the document. “How long will the renovation take?" I say out loud. Cain is more likely to be in the know than me.
“All depends on the funds.”
I riffle through the document and find nothing to enlighten me further. There are no pictures of the flat, just a basic description noting the room sizes and amenities.
“Did you want to go and see it?”
Chapter20
Cain
It's late as we pull up, and my car thrums to a stop, the engine purring quietly. Lauren spent the entire journey trying to find ample excuses as to why she couldn’t move, and the rustle of the papers had been our only music. “I didn’t even know we were expecting restorations to happen—no one has complained.” Her breathy voice floats around the car. She’s anxious, and it’s not an emotion I like to see in her.
