I pull a set of keys from my pocket and dangle them in front of her. “Welcome to your new headquarters, Gela Jones.”
“What?” she shrieks, her head snapping back to the building, then to me.
“This building is now home to Jones Marketing Consultancy,” I grin and dangle the keys in front of her. “It also has the best view of Boston.”
“Valentin, you didn't...” She takes the keys from my hand, her mouth hanging open.
“I did.” I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. “And before you say anything about independence or doing things on your own, the lease is in your name. The business is yours. I just... helped with the location.”
“How much did this cost you?” She shakes her head in disbelief.
“We owned it already. See, right there?” I point to the structure next to it. “That’s our family office. This way, you havethe same security we do and the same guards watching over you as well. It’s totally safe.”
Her eyes well up, and she throws her arms around my neck, nearly knocking me backward.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers against my neck.
I laugh, wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her off her feet. “So you like it?”
“Like it?” She pulls back to look at me, her eyes shining. “I haven't even seen it yet, and I already love it. Show me everything.”
I set her down and take her hand. “Come on in then!”
We race through the revolving doors like excited kids, and I watch as Gela's face lights up at the marble lobby and the soaring ceilings. The building is completely empty right now, and I lead her to the private elevator.
“This goes straight to your floor,” I tell her as I press the button for the top level. “Without any stops, so there’ll be a guard stationed downstairs.”
The elevator shoots upward, and Gela bounces on her toes, excited beyond belief. When the doors slide open, she gasps.
“Holy shit, Valentin.”
The reception area gleams with polished wood and soft, recessed lighting. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the Boston skyline, and sleek, modern furniture dots the space.
“Come on.” I tug her forward. “There's more.”
We race through the conference room with its massive table and state-of-the-art presentation equipment. We peek intosmaller offices meant for future employees. I show her the kitchen area with its espresso machine and mini fridge.
Her smile grows wider and wider.
“And now,” I say, stopping in front of a set of double doors at the end of the hallway, “for the main event.”
I push the doors open to her office. It's twice the size of the others, with three walls of windows and a beautiful, dark writing desk.
There’s a small seating area near the bar, and cozy chairs sprinkled around for when larger groups of people gather.
“This…this is mine?” she gapes.
“Tell me you like it.” I tug her in, my heart racing with excitement. I designed everything in here just to make her happy.
She pulls her hand away and steps inside, still shaking her head as she walks over to her desk and mindlessly trails her fingers over it.
“This is... Valentin, I don't even have words.” She turns to me, her cheeks flushed with joy.
“Look at the view,” I tell her, walking to the windows.
She joins me, and we stare out at the city spread below us, the harbor glittering in the distance.
“I can see everything from here,” she whispers.
