I knock again.
I spent a lot of money on this penthouse. You know how they say money doesn’t buy happiness? Lie. Sure, some people might think that, but those people probably grew up in a loving middle-class home and not an RV that literally rotted around you as you slept.
Guess what? Money absolutelydoesbuy happiness, and my penthouse with the custom mahogany-inlaid floors makes me very happy—and I will be veryunhappyif that dog ruins them.
I ease the handle down and swing the door in. The dog scuffles as the door scoots her backward.
“Just come around the other side,” I whisper, so I don’t wake up Mandy.
The dog can’t seem to figure it out. Dumb animal.
I open the door wider to try to make Pepper figure out where she’s supposed to go, and suddenly there’s Mandy. She has one hand in her hair and the other over her mouth, mid-yawn.
My T-shirt, clinging to her skin, has ridden up. She’s wearing the same pink panties over which I’d really had to dig deep in order not to jack off on them. With her curvy, soft thighs and hard nipples under the fabric, she looks utterly fuckable.
She also screams when she sees me.
Cursing, I shut the door. It jams on Pepper, who has finally figured out how to get around it.
“I thought you were still asleep,” I explain through the partially open door.
“So you’re just sneaking in here to spy on me?” she yells from behind the chair.
“I promise I’m not looking.” I hold up the coffee, the pastry, and the shopping bag and take two steps into the room. Of course I’m looking, but through my splayed fingers. I see her on her hands and knees, peeking around the oversized low-slung chair by the fireplace.
“For you.” I set the presents on the dresser. “I’m taking your dog out before she messes up my floors.”
I shove Pepper out of the way with my foot, shutting the door behind me.
Then I wait.
Mandy’s footsteps pad over the carpet. I lean forward, resting my head on the cool wood of the door. I wonder what she would do if I went back in there, pushed her back against the wall, and kissed her again like I did last night. Would she scream? Would she yield?
It’s better if I don’t find out.
The lobby of the tower is empty. The lobby of the building is always empty. Rich people move around the world like sharks, never staying in one place long.
On the rare occasions I run into one of my neighbors, they usually seem detached—or they want to set me up with one of their daughters’ niece’s cousins, hinting that I need a well-bred wife.
I am getting older. It wouldn’t be hard to take one of them up on such an offer. I know women like their daughters—they know the score. Have a few babies, keep your affairs discreet, look pretty at charity and business functions, and the checks keep rolling in.
I probably should have a wife, right? People will start to talk eventually, wonder what was wrong with me. A woman from a good family would cut any rumors off at the knees.
Then why do I keep thinking about having Mandy by my side?
“I could have taken Ms. Pepper out,” Seward reminds me when I walk past him, carrying the dog.
Yes, I’m carrying her. Sure, I could have an argument with an animal with a brain the size of a peanut to try to convince her that she’s certainly capable of walking—or I could just pick her up and carry her.
“She has separation-anxiety issues.”
Seward follows me out. “She doesn’t want to be away from her father.”
“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” I put Pepper on the damp sidewalk. She immediately sits on my foot.
“Considering you’re the only person in residence at the moment, don’t worry—this will just stay between us.”
The concierge smiles as he unfurls an enormous umbrella over Pepper. He bites back a laugh as I nudge the dog toward the flowers alongside the building.
