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“We have security when we go on the road, yeah sure. And when we do press junkets, that kind of thing. But not when we’re off the clock. And definitely not in our private homes. The only people we have in our homes, Brinley, are those we invite… forwhateverreason.”
I nod again and bite my lip. I wish I’d never asked.
I can’t help but focus on the wordwhateverand the seductive way Reed just said it. I wonder how many other women he’s had in this apartment over the years. How many groupies, how many band-whores with big boobs and sexy clothes have caught his eye and wormed their way back to his apartment, or weaseled their way into his bed.
I shake my head, take the beer from him, and look across the room. “Now that’s a view,” I say with a voice little more than a whisper, looking out through the enormous windows.
He smiles his infamous crooked smile back at me, wandering into the massive expanse that is his living room.
I follow after him like some kind of starving kitten.
“I don’t know what the people across the street are making for dinner, but yeah, it’s a pretty good view,” he says with a nod of his head that makes his hair fall in his eyes.
Gesturing for me to take a seat on the couch, I do as he asks and practically melt into the luxurious fabric. It oozes luxury, prestige, and a shitload of coin.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I say, somewhat facetiously.
“Always the smart ass,” he replies with a small grin. “Should I take that as a compliment?”
I nod vigorously. “Yeah, you should actually. How long have you lived here?”
Reed sits on the other end of the couch, crossing one leg beneath the other. “Five years.” He stretches his arm out along the back of the couch, facing me, and I’m instantly mesmerized by his blue eyes glistening in the soft glow of the fire. “I bought it after our third album went platinum. Before that, I was living in hotel rooms, and out of suitcases. I wanted somewhere to call home. I wanted somewhere permanent to lay down some roots. This place came up and my real estate agent jumped on it for me. She got me a great deal too.”
“You should tell your real estate agent thanks.”
“I did. A couple of times.” He winks at me and a pang of some unknown emotion tears through my chest.
Did he bang his real estate agent? In this apartment? Good god! And why did he just tell me that?
Is he gauging my reaction?
“Thanks for the visual,” I say, shaking my head, desperate to look anywhere but at him. I take a sip of my beer and place the glass down on the coffee table. “Speaking of thanks… thank you for getting my car out of lock-up for me. I will be paying you back. There’s no question about it. It might take me a while and I might have to do it in increments. But thank you, I really appreciate it.”
I glance across at the fire burning in the corner, orange/blue flames flickering, feeling the warmth and the strong desire I have to never return to my icy-cold apartment ever again.
The fire is hypnotizing and a part of me feels like Reed has done all this on purpose–the heavenly smell, and the warmth, and the delicious comfort of his furniture, a temptation that can’t be resisted, and a lure to pull you in and never let you go again.
“It’s no big deal. Pay me back if you want,” he says casually.
When I look at him again, he’s studying me closely. Too closely. I don’t like the way it makes me feel. Or maybe I like it too much, and that’s even worse.
“I should probably get going,” I suddenly say, needing to get out of Reed’s apartment, and needing to get away from Reed. I don’t need this right now. Things are complicated enough between us, and with the way he’s looking at me, I’m not about to be another one of his conquests.
“I thought you might like a tour of the place before you go?”
“Oh, uh –”
“Come on, Tink.” He grabs my hand and holds it tightly, entwining our fingers and I know I should pull my hand away but there’s a part of me that likes the way it feels to have his huge hand wrapped up in mine. It makes me feel safe in a way that makes no sense. “I had the bathroom remodeled a couple of months ago. I need a female perspective. Come tell me what you think?”
Reed stands and drags me behind him down a long hallway. He opens a door along the way and I take a quick peek inside.
My eyes fly open and I have to stop myself from hyperventilating. It’s seriously that beautiful. It reminds me of one of those fancy-ass spas that women pay a fortune to go to.
Other women, not me.
The floor tiles are slate gray and the walls are covered in black subway tiles laid in a herringbone pattern. There’s a free-standing bath that looks bigger than some small European countries, a double vanity with brass fittings, and a stand-up shower with a tiled ledge that looks like a seat.
There are two shower heads situated on either side. The nozzles are positioned at an odd angle, much lower than you’d expect for a man Reed’s size and it makes my cheeks burn when I realize what those nozzles have been pointing at.
