Savannah is dressed in an oversized sweater, leggings, and combat boots. A cozy scarf is wrapped around her neck, and thecolor matches perfectly with the long socks poking out of her boots.
If this is her casual attire, I don’t think I can handle anything else. She’s going to give me an early heart attack.
I might have to make this the standard for her at RHL.
Hopping out of my car, I jog up to her. “Hi there, Trouble.” I give her a wink.
“Hi,” she greets with a bashful smile.
Easily, I repeat the lie I rehearsed in the mirror. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’m about to go to the library, but I don’t want to go alone.”
“Aren’t libraries closed today? It’s Sunday.”
“There’s one I know that’s open.”
“If you say so,” she responds. “Okay. I could use a good read,” she agrees, and I lead her to the passenger door of my AMG GT.
I don’t let go of her hand until she’s settled in her seat. Losing that connection, even though it’s brief, leaves me feeling cold. I trot quickly to the driver’s door and slip in, snagging her hand before I buckle myself in.
Savannah blushes and gives a soft ahem. “Shall we?”
I turn the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life. “You got it, Babe.”
On our drive, Savannah tries to predict our destination based on the turns I make. She never gets it right, though.
When I make a turn, merging us onto East 73rdStreet, Savannah cocks her head to the side, staring out the windshield. “I don’t know of any libraries or bookstores over here. Is it a public library?”
“Nope,” I answer, a little too pleased.
Savannah harrumphs and crosses her arms, falling back into her seat. “I give up.”
“We’re almost there,” I assure her.
Slowing the car to a stop, I parallel park in the spot I had blocked off for me. I had to grease some wheels to make the spot mine, but it’s worth the half-million-dollar donation I make to the NYPD every year.
Jumping out of the car, I round to the passenger side and open Savannah’s door. I entwine my fingers with hers and gesture to the building in front of us. “This is it.”
It’s an old three-story mansion from the Gilded Age. The façade is made of carved stone, tall arched windows, and large, dramatic pillars. I’m sure someone famous used to live here, but now it serves as my haven.
“Cool,” Savannah replies with mild enthusiasm. “Where are we?”
“Let me show you.” Holding onto her hand, I lead her up the few steps to the entrance and unlock it with my key.
“Is this an exclusive club or something?”
I smirk. “It’s very exclusive.”
Showing her into the foyer, I lock the door behind us and remove her coat, scarf, and purse, hanging them on the hat tree next to us.
The floor is covered with hardwood and a traditional rug that stretches from the entry to the set of doors opposite us. On either side of the doors are two winding staircases that lead up to a second-floor landing. But every avenue will lead us to the same place.
Savannah scans the grandiose entry. “Where is everyone?”
“I said this place is exclusive,” I remind her, clasping her hand again and guiding her to the ominous doors.
Savannah lowers her voice. “Yeah, but you didn’t say how exclusive.” She looks down at herself, pulling on her sweater. “I think I’m a bit underdressed for a place like this.”
“You’re dressed perfectly. Come on.” I usher her inside the next room and watch as her expression loses all anxiousness. Ihad the mansion gutted and combined all the rooms to make one large chamber.
