Ten texts.
Three missed calls.
And someone banging like hell on my door.
I scramble to my feet, running across my apartment and yanking the door open without thinking.
“I’m so sorry…” I say, expecting one of Julian’s drivers to be waiting for me. But my jaw drops, and my arms fly up to cover my chest when I see none other than fucking Brooks.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
And of course, his lips pull up into that fucking smirk that I’ve been staring at online for the last twelve hours.
“Rough night?” he says, leaning up against my doorjamb. I roll my eyes.
“I’ll be out in four minutes,” I say, slamming the door in his face.
I scramble back through my apartment, pulling on a pair of jeans, a long-sleeve black top, and a pair of Nikes. I throw on some mascara, tug my hair up into a clip, and grab my backpack, shoving my jersey inside and zipping it up.
And in about three minutes and forty seconds, I’m back at the door, opening it and pulling it closed behind me, trying like hell to keep my composure.
“Why are you here?” I ask him, leading him to the stairs of my walkup. “And how do you know where I live?”
“My brother sent a car for me. I thought it would be more efficient if we just scooped you on the way. Ya know, environment and all that,” he says, waving his hand. I roll my eyes and scoff.
“Please,” I say, “I’ve seen the pictures of your yachts and cars and parties. Let’s not pretend you care about the planet.”
“You’ve been stalking me?” he asks, and without looking, I can practicallyhearthe smirk on his face. I ignore him as we get to the main lobby and walk toward the door. As we get to it, he holds it open, and I nod in thanks. And then, as we get to the big SUV that’s waiting for us, he reaches out and opens the door.
And just like with the girls in those photos, he holds one hand out for me, and I take it with no hesitation, letting him help me into the car. As he does, I feel the zap of his other hand on my lower back, guiding me in before he closes the door behind me.
I give myself the three seconds it takes for him to walk around the car for me to get over the fucking butterflies he just gave me.
He gets in, and the driver peels out.
“So, everything good?” he asks, leaning back against the black leather as he eyes me up and down.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” I say, refusing to offer him more. No way in hell I’m admitting to him that I fell asleep while internet stalking him and forgot to set an alarm for what might possibly be the biggest meeting of my professional career.
“Okey doke,” he says. “Not a morning person, I take it.”
I whip my head to him.
“And I take it you are,” I say. He shrugs and smiles.
“I don’t hate ‘em,” he says. I blow out a condescending laugh.
“I imagine it’s a little easier to wake up each day when you have a billion dollars and a few models waiting for ya,” I say sarcastically.
“Whoa, whoa,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “Easy, tiger.”
We ride in silence for the next few minutes until we pull into the fortress that is Julian’s apartment building. We finally get to what can only be described as a castle in the middle of New York City. We pull into a separate garage entrance, and the driver scans some sort of keycard. He parks the car into a reserved space and then gets out, but before he can get to my door, Brooks is on the outside, opening it and holding out his arm for me to step out. He's smiling, and be it panty-dropping as always, there's something behind it. There's something devious to it, like I'm the butt of a joke that I don't know about.
I slide off the leather seat, and he closes the door behind me as the driver leads us to a large elevator door. He scans the badge again, and the doors open. Brooks holds his hand out yet again.
“After you,” he says. I step on reluctantly and draw in a long breath. I know that Julian lives at the very top of this monstrous building, so stairs are not an option unless I was planning to have a heart attack today. But as the doors close and I'm in a tight, closed-off space yet again, I realize that a heart attack is definitely still on the table. I draw in a sharp breath through my nose and close my eyes for a moment, trying to stay grounded.
“Hey,” I hear him say just above a whisper, and my eyes pop open. “This one is new and fast. We will be in his apartment in one second. If you wanna keep your eyes closed, I'll let you know as soon as we get up there.” I don't know why I do it. I don't know why I let him see me vulnerable yet again, but there's something that happens when we're behind these closed doors that changes in him. Something that feels more dependable andmore genuine. So, I close my eyes, and I lean back against the wall I reach behind me to grip the railing. I jump slightly when I feel his hand on top of mine. I don't open my eyes, and neither of us says a word. We just ride all the way to the tippity top of this insane building with his hand over mine because he knows I need it. Finally, a sleek-sounding chime goes off, and I feel everything stop.
