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The elevator door slides open effortlessly and the man holds the door with one hand. “When you’re ready, Miss Thomas.”
“I’m not going up –”
“Mr. Devlin was most specific,” he insists. “He suggested you may argue the point, but I was advised to ignore you, and send you right up despite your, and I quote directly from Mr. Devlin himself, your infantile attitude.”
“What?” I gasp.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, Miss Thomas.”
“I can’t just go up to his apartment? I barely know him!”
The man looks at me with an expression that’s hard to decipher. He looks confused, and if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because he’s not used to women not jumping at the chance to get inside Cold Neptune’s lead singer’s apartment.
I wonder briefly how many women this poor man has had to escort up in this elevator before. I bet none of them look like me. I bet they’re all gorgeous model types. Tall, slender, in designer clothes with fake lashes and fake lips. All the better to suck you with, my dear.
When I don’t move, the man raises his brows at me expectantly. “Mr. Devlin was most insistent. Eleventh floor. There’s only one door once you arrive. It’s the penthouse suite.”
“Of course it is.” Nerves flitter around inside my stomach, and not the good kind. The very bad kind. The worst of the worst kind. “What if he does something to me?”
“Like what?”
“Like, what if he tries to hurt me? I have a knife in this bag, just so you know,” I lie. I don’t have a knife. Of course, I don’t have a knife. What do I look like, some crazy knife-wielding maniac? “If he tries anything, I’ll stab him in the eye. And I’m not talking about the eye in his head, if you get what I mean.”
The man smirks, and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “Very well, miss. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. No knives. No stabbings. I’ll keep a close watch on the security camera outside his front door. Any trouble, just give me the nod, and I’ll be the first to know about it.”
I stare back at the balding gentleman for a few moments, not entirely sure what to make of things. He seems like a pretty genuine guy, and he’s got a really kind smile, and he’s got a very welcoming voice, but maybe that’s all just part of his job. He is a concierge after all. I’m guessing it goes with the territory.
But what if it’s all an act, to lure me into Reed’s lair?
The man gestures for me to enter the elevator again, just a quick tilt of his head, and then before I know what’s happened, the doors have closed behind me, and I’m soaring up to the penthouse suite on the eleventh floor.
Man, this thing is fast. It’s so smooth; it’s like floating on air.
I check my face and hair in the mirror. Alright, fine. I may have put on makeup and fixed my hair when I knew I was coming here, but that’s neither here nor there. I may have also worn a push-up bra. But that’s because it was the only one that didn’t have sauce stains on it.I swear.
The elevator slows and then eventually comes to a complete stop.
The door silently slides open and I step out into a fancy hallway, my eyes instantly drawn to the sparkling chandelier hanging overhead and the glossy white tiles on the floor.
“You made it.”
Spinning around, I find Reed standing in the doorway at the end of the short hallway, gripping the wide frame with both hands.
He’s wearing different clothes now, and his long-sleeved T-shirt has risen up slightly from the waistband of his sweatpants, revealing a thin slice of his chiseled stomach and highly tattooed abs.
It should be criminal to look so fine in sweats and a T-shirt. And his six-pack should be regarded as a concealed weapon. Highly illegal.
The T-shirt Reed’s wearing is a Cold Neptune band T-shirt, and I really want to make some kind of snarky remark about the fact that he’s wearing one of his own band’s shirts, but my eyes are glued to the sharp V that brackets his waist. You know the one. The V that drives girls crazy.
Other girls, that is. Not this girl.
No, the sight of a very attractive man’s lower abdomen, the sort that any male model in the world would kill for, that’s not doing anything for me at all.
Nada.
“I’m here,” I say flippantly. “Not that you gave me much choice.”
“You want to come in?” he says, dropping his arms, and I’m instantly disappointed when the V disappears.Poof!He stands back and gestures with his head for me to come inside his apartment, and his intense blue eyes are like magnets. I can’t look away from them. He holds me with his stare, and my feet move forward before my brain has a chance to catch up.
