“I would never say anything. But you do know that you’re already underpaid for your position, right? Let alone secretly giving part of that salary to someone else.”
He shakes me off. “I make plenty.”
A throat clears near us, and I turn to find my doorman standing outside of my building. Because that’s where we’ve been stopped this whole time we’ve been whispering, apologizing, and staring at each other’s mouths. Right in front of my building.
“Hey there, Keith.” I hold up a single hand in a wave. “Didn’t know you were out here.”
“Evening, Ms. Remington.”
I throw a thumb in that direction. “So, this is me,” I tell Emmett.
“I see that.” A ghost of a smile lifts on his lips. “Thanks for letting me walk you home.”
I should leave it at that. He’s giving me an out. But after a week of avoiding him, I find myself desperate for just a few more moments.
“I’m not home yet.” I slowly start toward the entrance, nodding for him to join. “I’ve got to make it to the top floor.”
He shakes his head, following me. “Of course you’re on the top floor.”
There’s no hint of judgment in the way he says it. It’s stated in a way that he already knew I bought the condo on the penthouselevel because he knows I like nice things. He’s not giving me a hard time for having preferences. He’s simply making it known that he’s aware of them.
We say our thank-yous to Keith as he opens the main entry door for both of us and when we hit the lobby, Emmett veers for the primary elevator bank.
I slip my hand into his to stop him. “This way,” I say, nodding toward my private elevator on the opposite side of the main room.
“You have your own elevator.”
“I do.”
“As you should.”
Letting go of his hand, I swipe my keycard over the sensor, opening the elevator doors. Once inside, I tap it again, this time adding my thumbprint before pushing the button for my floor.
I’m able to get to any floor from this elevator, but seeing as this opens right into my condo, no one else can get onto mine.
The doors close, and out of the corner of my eye I watch as Emmett takes in his surroundings, his attention snagging on the emerald marble encasing us. On the intricate design pieced together on the floor. On the gold handrails and crystal buttons for each floor.
He doesn’t make some judgmental statement about excess, nor does any part of him seem intimidated. Two reasons I’ve never wanted anyone to see where I live now. Because I bought the place thatIwanted post-divorce, and the last thing I want is to hear anything negative said about my sacred space.
“This place suits you, Reese.”
Standing shoulder to shoulder, eyes locked ahead on the door, Emmett brushes his pinky against mine.
It’s intentional. It’s the simplest of touches yet feels far too intimate for what it is.
The tension feels far too thick in this little box. The small amount of newfound privacy allows for the electric charge between us to simmer and heat to an unhealthy level.
As we go up through the floors, I can sense my pulse quicken, can feel the beat in my chest grow to a thundering pound when Emmett not only brushes his pinky against mine again, but wraps it fully around, holding on to that small part of me.
“Emmett—”
“How was your date?”
Looking up, I meet his eye. “You sound jealous.”
“I am.”
I take a step back for my own sanity, but it doesn’t last long before he follows me with a step of his own.
