I slide into my parking spot and notice Nico’s space is no longer empty. His flashy black Rolls Royce is back, which can only mean one thing. He’s home. Something a lot like excitement swirls in my stomach.
Nope, do not go there.
Even if Nico turns out to be a great guy, he will always have dated my sister. Girl code is one thing, but sisterhood is stronger.
I squash that excitement with a hammer. Any thought of Nico is a bad idea.
With a new sense of determination to put the bad boy catcher out of my head, I climb out of my car and take the elevator up to my apartment.
Twirling the white card in my hand, I picture Nico and the way his tattooed hand seductively lifted his black card between his long fingers, teasing me. My skin feels hot as I imagine those same fingers sliding over my soft skin, over my breasts, and wrapping around my throat.
The doors open with a ding, pulling me from my dirty daydreams.
Dammit. Why does that keep happening?
Without looking where I’m going, I almost trample a pretty, petite brunette with caramel-colored eyes.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I apologize.
Aside from Mrs. Romero, I haven’t seen anyone on my floor before. My eyes dart to his door and back to the woman.
She chuckles. Her laugh is raspy and thick as if coated in a rich whiskey, like her eyes. “No problem. Are you the new neighbor?”
Her polite question knocks me off balance. “Yes, Savannah. Nice to meet you.”
She places a hand on her chest as she introduces herself. “Same. I’m Sofia.”
My eyes have a mind of their own and check out the beautiful woman. She’s wearing a vintage Blondie T-shirt that shows off her midriff, a pair of expertly ripped skinny jeans, and a pair of orange Converse. Not only do her clothes give her a cool chick vibe, but so do her genuine smile and warm eyes.
Jealousy I’ve never experienced rips through me. There could only be one reason she’s on this floor, and I’m guessing it has everything to do with my playboy neighbor.
Her phone rings, and she glances down at the caller. She rolls her eyes at the screen, then smiles back at me. “Work calls. But I’m sure I’ll see you around. Bye Savannah.”
“Bye,” I mumble.
I watch as she rushes into the elevator and disappears from sight. I’m left partly confused at what just happened and a little queasy.
Nico has a…girlfriend?
More like fuck buddy.
What an asshole. I knew he was a womanizer, but it’s a lot harder to swallow when it’s shoved down my throat and I’m forced to confront one of his conquests in the hallway.
Anger rips through me and replaces my nausea. I enter my apartment and throw my bag and keys on the entry table.
I knew Nico was nothing but trouble. Great guy, my ass. That man has spent the last couple of weeks flirting with me and giving me smoldering smiles. For what? To get into my pants. To be another notch on his bedpost.
In the words of the fabulous Cher Horowitz: Ugh, as if.
Loud scraping from outside draws my attention. Nico is out on his balcony, surrounded by large cardboard boxes and a variety of packing material. I sneak closer to the sliding door to get a better look.
In nothing but a hat and a pair of black athletic shorts, Nico lays a large cushion onto the frame of what appears to be a chaise lounge the size of a queen bed on the patio. He adds a few pillows and stares at his work with a smug smile on his stupid, handsome face.
Before today, there wasn’t a single piece of furniture on that balcony. Not even a plant. It was barren like the desert. Now it looks chic and expensive, with matching black and white chairs, a table, and matching rug. He even has one of those heat lamps you find at an outdoor restaurant.
Is he doing this on purpose?
I can’t stop myself from pulling open the door and shouting, “What do you think you are doing?”
