"It would be an excessive amount of together time, but my brothers are hardly ever here," Archer explained as he carried my bags to the elevator. "The building has some foundation issues, so one of these days, Greg has to have it all fixed up. Then he may kick us out—who knows."
The elevator let us off into a huge foyer. "You could just pitch a tent and rent this space out for a thousand a month," I remarked.
"Who would live here?" he asked with a laugh.
"It has a window and a plant. I've lived in much worse places."
"This is the side of Manhattan you haven't experienced yet," Archer said. He punched a code into the keypad on the huge metal door. "Welcome to my condo. Please wipe your feet. No telling what's on the sidewalks."
I inadvertently gasped when I walked in. "There is so much art. It's like you're living in a museum."
Every wall had artwork displayed. There were also minimalist tables with sculptures artfully lit by downlights.
"Mi casa es tu casa.Feel free to rearrange anything you like. I've been thinking about redecorating," he said, sprawling out on a large couch that let him stretch with room to spare. I think that couch was bigger than the closet I lived in the last time I lived in Manhattan.
"It's so quiet in here," I marveled.
"Double-paned windows with extra-thick glass really makes a difference," Archer said. "Plus this is an old brick building—it was formerly some sort of shirtwaist factory—so the walls are foot-and-a-half-thick brick."
"It's beautiful," I said, walking around. While the building was impressive, more so was the tens of millions of dollars of art on the wall.
Garrett had mentioned that he didn't think McKenna would jeopardize her reputation by selling a counterfeit painting. But as I looked at the expensive paintings on the wall that could buy my building several times over, I sort of understood it.
"You can have any of these you want," Archer murmured against my neck.
"I don't even have anywhere to put it!" I said, flabbergasted. "Besides, you can't just give someone a Gergiev painting as a gift."
"Why not? Art is more personal than flowers." He kissed my neck.
"Is this the nice surprise?" I gasped. "Fucking in front of expensive art?"
"As much as I'd like to," Archer said, stepping back, "we have plans." He let his hand run down the front of my shirt, grazing my nipples through the soft fabric.
"We do?" I asked, blinking.
"I'm going to give you the full Archer Svensson treatment."
"I don't know if I can handle it. I might explode."
58
Archer
"Anticipation makes everything better," I said to Hazel. "As much as I want to stay here like this, we have a reservation of sorts." I looked her up and down. "You need something nicer to wear."
"I actually put on one of my nicer outfits for the day."
"It's a little business casual for the special celebration evening I have planned."
"What if we lose?"
"That's why we're having the nice eveningbefore." I took her hand and led her to the master bedroom.
"I still can't get over how much space you have," Hazel said. "And in Manhattan, no less."
I grinned broadly when she finally noticed the hanging rack with ten-or-so vintage dresses plus shoes and accessories. "One of these should work for the evening."
Hazel slowly flipped through the dresses. "These are nice. Oh, these are really nice. Vintage Max Mara? Where did you find these?"
