“Maybe I could visit? It’s always been on my bucket list.”
I stiffen. “I’ve never heard you mention visiting New York before.”
“Course I have. It’d be great. You and I could?—”
“I’m sorry, I might lose you, I’m about to step into the elevator.”
Rory continues talking, ignoring me.
“Rory? Can you hear me? Rory?”
I jab the end call button so hard that a sharp pain shoots up my finger.
“Ugh,” I groan, throwing my phone into my purse. “Forgive me, Universe.”
“Sounds like Rory had it coming.”
I look at the woman leaning back against the concierge desk.
“In fact, I think the universe would be cheering you on in situations regarding guys who don’t want to take the hint.”
“That obvious?”
“Yep.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “What is he? An ex? Or a chancer?”
“He’s something,” I mutter.
“I’m Zoey. You’re new here?”
“Halliday. I just moved in.”
“From England?”
“The accent gives me away, huh? Yeah, from London. I’m here for work, though. It’s not permanent.”
Zoey straightens and beams at me. “You’re who Sinclair hired for her dad.”
“That’s me. How did you?—”
“I’m friends with her. I’m the one who told her an apartment was coming up in this building. They’re like gold-fucking-dust. I swear someone has to die in order to get one. Although, that’s not what happened in yours,” she adds, looking at my shocked expression. “The woman who owns it took a job overseas for a year and decided to sublet it. Still, it’s pretty sweet, isn’t it? You’re park-side, amazing views.”
“They really are,” I agree.
A door opens behind the desk as the concierge, Harry, returns from his office.
“Here you are, Miss Zoey. Guarded it myself.”
She takes the luxurious shiny black box from his arms with a squeal. “You’re the best.”
“Just doing my job.” His kind eyes travel to me. “Ah, Miss Halliday. You’re here to see if your delivery arrived while you were working outside on this beautiful day, aren’t you?”
I nod. There’s something about Harry that I can’t help but warm to. And judging by the way Zoey is smiling at him like he’s Santa, I’d say it’s a common feeling he evokes in people.
“Yes, please. It’s for my client.”
He holds up a finger, signaling for me to wait, and walks back into his office.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Zoey says. “I’m in 17B. Give me a knock if you need anything. Let’s hang out one evening with Sinclair. We can introduce you to the best bars to go for a drink that won’t be full of guys who keep calling when you don’t want them to.” She winks before her eyes return to the gleaming box in her hands and she beams at it.
