Alex
My eyes trail the bleak walls of the room as regret forms in my belly. I’m glad I threw the flowers in his face yesterday, I am. But I can’t say they wouldn’t look good in here. The room would benefit from some color to liven up the dull magazine look.
Still, the last thing I’d want is for him to think that he can treat me like shit and make it all right with a simple bouquet. It’s not my first apology bouquet; I’ve received plenty of them in my relationship with Robbie. He wasn’t abusive from the start. No, our relationship was good enough to fool me into thinking he was a good person. The first few times he lost his temper, it was just his words. They stung like hell, but he’d follow up with some flowers and an apology. He claimed he was under a lot of stress because of his impending promotion, and I swallowed his excuses like they meant something.
If I had left then, everything would’ve been different. I wipe the tears from my eyes, and a knock sounds at my door. Leon’s deep voice follows the knock as I startle.
“Get ready. We’re leaving in half an hour. I suggest black tie, but it’s up to you.”
My lips press into a frown as I rack my brain to remember ifwe had plans of sorts, but we’ve avoided each other since yesterday. I jump out of bed to open the door to the hallway. He’s already entering his office. “What the hell does that mean?”
He turns to me, in his signature, perfectly tailored suit, with eyes dark as coal. “It means what I said. We’re leaving in half an hour.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Fine. Then I’m not coming.” I cross my arms in front of my chest.
“Fine. Then I’ll carry you.” His voice is casual, like he’s fully prepared to do so.
I open my mouth to say something, but the only thing that leaves it is a frustrated groan. I follow that up with a slam of the doors, checking the time on the modern wall clock.
Who the hell does he think he is?
A mafia boss, obviously, with enough money to do what he wants. Still, he can’t buy me. He can’t buy my forgiveness.
I pass the full-length mirror, noticing my messy attire. My hair is a nest on top of my head, and I’m wearing a pair of leggings and an old, worn t-shirt. He said the dress code is black tie. An idea forms in my head, and my mouth twists into a smirk. I shouldn’t change.
The always-put-together, Type-A Leon would hate it. Rubbing my hands together like a cartoon villain, I grab a pair of white, sporty socks to complement the outfit, delight blooming within me.
Half an hour later, a knock sounds again. Excitement flows through me as I rise to open the door with a wide smile on my face. Breath hitches in my throat at the sight of him. His tux looks somehow even more expensive than his typical clothes. His thick, dark hair is styled in a way that makes me want to mess it up. He sports a five o’clock shadow that does wonders for his jawline. He’s unfairly hot.
His gaze travels over my body, but it seems almost appreciative.I’m dressed as if I’m doing home renovations, but he doesn’t seem to mind. My face drops, disappointed by his lack of reaction.
“Grab a jacket,” he says, and I take his words to heart. Being underdressed is fine, but being cold is where I draw the line.
I slip my arms through the sleeves of my coat, give Persephone a kiss goodbye, and follow him out. We enter the elevator, but instead of going down, he presses a button that leads us to the roof.Maybe he plans to throw me off it.The silly thought is quickly pushed away. He’s way too smart to do that off the building he lives in.
The elevator doors open onto the roof, and the wind howls around us, making an even bigger mess of my hair. At least I brought a jacket. With squinted eyes, I realize the wind isn’t the only thing howling — there’s a helicopter across from us. White lines on the floor signal that this is indeed a helipad and remind me of just how much money the man next to me has. He seems unimpressed, making his way toward the noisy aircraft, and I’m too shocked to do anything but follow.
He stops next to the door and puts his hand out. I’m still dumbfounded, so I take it and lift myself up to the cabin. I scoot my ass to the other side, trying to put distance between us, but the cabin is too small. He sucks the air out of the tiny space, forcing his scent down my nose. He smells just as good as he looks, making my belly churn with frustration. A pilot sits in the front seat, his head adorned with large headphones. Leon grabs an identical set, placing it over my ears. He grabs his own headset and within minutes, we’re up in the air.
Finally, my tongue relaxes enough to speak. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he responds through the headset.
A million questions swirl through my mind, but I know Leon well enough to realize they would be futile. My gaze lingers on the swirl of colors outside, the sunset painting the sky. Just as the last traces of the sun disappear, the aircraft begins its descent. We’re hundreds of feet from the ground, but I would recognize NewYork’s skyline anywhere. Leon helps me out of the helicopter, just like he helped me in. The chill has risen in the air, and I’m relieved to have brought my coat. He walks me around the aircraft and to another elevator.
A quick two-block walk after, we’re ascending toward the roof of a famous hotel. I know exactly where we’re going because I was here twice before. The elevator dings, and we step outside.
The Rooftop.My favorite restaurant. Even though we’re in the heart of a massive city, the string lights hanging from wooden pergolas make it seem like we’re in a small Mediterranean town in the middle of the summer. There are heaters hidden in the pergolas, making sure we can enjoy the place any time of the year. A maze of hedges allows privacy for every guest and gives you the feel of a garden. Yet, the view is the most stunning part of it. Millions of tiny lights resemble a sky full of stars. We’re so high up nobody could hurt us here. We step toward the hostess table, and my cheeks heat, realizing what I’m wearing.
“You should’ve told me where we’re going,” I whisper-yell.
He glances back at me, shooting me a devastating smirk. “You should have listened to me.”
I’d never admit that in a billion years, but he’s right. I was stubborn, and now I’m in my favorite place in the world, and I look like I’m here to beg for spare change.
