“No.”
He smiled for the first time all night. “You’re a little stubborn, aren’t you?” he asked.
I glared at him.
“All right, no hospital,” he conceded. “But you can’t be alone tonight. If Mark’s threats held even an ounce of truth, I’m not taking any chances.”
I glanced at the ground. If I was honest, I didn’t want to be alone. What if there were others looking for revenge against Bill? If Mark could find and corner me at my workplace, they could easily get to me in my apartment.
But if David was suggesting what I thought he was, that was equally as dangerous in a different way.
Slowly, I raised my eyes to him. “What do you propose?”
“Come home with me tonight.”
I bit my lip then released it quickly. To spend the night with someone like David—any woman would be a fool to turn him down.
“You know I can’t do that,” I said.
“You can when your safety is on the line.”
“What about everything you said earlier? You can’t even communicate with me without a liaison.”
“Forget it.” He smiled a little and held out his hand for mine. “Come on. We can start being finished with each other tomorrow.”
I crossed my arms. “No. Either we start now or . . .”
“Or what? We don’t start at all?” He arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I’m not sorry I said it. I needed to be firm. I needed it to stick.”
“So?” I asked. “This isn’t firm. This isn’t making it stick. Look, it’s fine. I get it. It’s done. Just let me get a cab home.”
“I just said—Jesus, Olivia.” His tone harshened, suddenly deep with bass. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. We can discuss all of this tomorrow, but tonight is not up for debate.” He stepped closer to me, waiting until I looked up and met his eyes. “I swear to you, Olivia, you’ll be safe tonight. Not just from predators, but from . . . from me as well. I can control myself.”
I suppressed a shudder. David implied that he was as dangerous as Mark, that he was such a threat to me, he had to restrain himself—and it didn’t scare me one bit. It excited me that he had to make us both a promise he’d refrain from ravaging me once he had me alone.
I believed he’d behave, so I nodded my agreement. “I’ll get my things.”
18
The elevator of the Gryphon Hotel stopped at the top. Thepenthouse. As it turned out, David lived in a hotel that also had residences. And it wasn’t just any hotel, but the same one where, at David’s suggestion, we’d be hosting tomorrow night’s Meet and Greet for the magazine. No wonder he’d been so knowledgeable about the rooftop bar above us—and Amber, Gryphon’s event coordinator.
David’s shoulders sagged as he stepped out into a simple, elegant foyer with a single door.
I folded my arms into myself and followed, still in his blazer, which I’d put over a North Shore Turkey Trot t-shirt David had found in the gym bag in his car.
“Make yourself comfortable.” He tossed his keys onto a circular marble table in the entryway and disappeared down a hallway.
A brightly lit, pristine living room with floor-to-ceiling windows displayed Lake Michigan on one side. Where the dark shore ended, Chicago’s skyline started, interrupted by the apartment’s smooth white columns.
I removed my shoes and walked over cool, ebonized mahogany wood panels to a plush ivory carpet. Three steps down deposited me into a sunken living room with a pine-green, mid-century fabric couch. Somehow I doubted the black leather and walnut Eames lounge chair and ottoman, which ran north of five grand, was a knockoff.
A monochromatic stone wall housed a cozy fireplace, the focal point of the room. A glass coffee table, with a base fashioned from the same wood as the floor, held three small, colorful, abstract sculptures and a stack of design books. Their worn corners offset clean black-and-white spines, just like the carpet springing between my toes warmed the jagged stone fireplace and high ceilings. With the white-paned windows curving to show both vast lake and downtown buildings, the space felt both big and cozy.
“Well?” David called from somewhere in the apartment.
I scanned the dark horizon from the eighty-fourth floor. The carefully curated yet lived-in room could’ve easily been cold. In some ways, it was. It needed a little more of a woman’s touch. “It’s not quite what I expected,” I said, picking up a remote from the mantel. With the push of a button, the fireplace flickered on.
“Not bachelor pad enough for you?” he asked from the other room.
