I lean back and close my eyes while answering something I’ve been at war with for months.
“Long story short, no. The cabbie has his own insurance that I would have needed to go through, and if I had done that, his premiums would have skyrocketed. My accident was just that, an accident. He was swerving because of another idiot, not because he was being reckless. However, his insurance company wouldn’t see it that way.” I pause to gather my thoughts. “I wouldn’t want to ruin his life because of that. If I had sued, Mom, the bakery, and I would have been set. We could have stayed right where we are now. But to me, that money would have been tainted. He is an immigrant with few job opportunities and many young children who rely on his paychecks. I could survive without them. He couldn’t.”
I open my eyes to see his shocked face. “I remember reading about this now.”
I nod, knowing most of the city has read the articles. “My insurance covered my surgery and physical therapy, the small bills I had, the cab driver insisted on paying out of his pocket. It was cheaper than him being sued. He’s checked on me many times since the accident. He’s a nice man.”
“Jules…” He sighs. “You were born in the wrong world, my sweet girl. You’re too kindhearted and caring.”
“That’s kind of you to say, Harrison.” Then, the car stops in front of an unfamiliar building. “Where are we?” I ask, realizing just now we’ve been in this car for a very long time. That’s what happens when I’m with Harrison—I lose sense of everything, even the most minor things like time.
“I wanted to end the night on a good note.” His face is sheepish. “But if you’d rather go home, we can do anything you want.”
Knowing I can not deny him and that deep down I don’t want to, I opt to stay.
Robert opens the door, and I smile at Harrison. “Show me a good time.”
Harrison walks up to the front desk. “Hello, we’re guests of Mason Cunningham. He should have left my name.” He passes over his driver’s license, and I do the same, and then they scan our faces.
Jeez, who the hell lives here?
I don’t even do this much in Harrison’s building.
“Yes, sir. You’re both all set. Please use this key to enter the main door and then this key to access the elevator. I assume you know the code?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Harrison takes the cards, then swipes the first one, causing two twenty-foot mahogany doors to open to an expansive lobby.
It’s sleek, modern, and sexy as hell. Where the hell am I right now?
“That wasn’t the lobby?”
He chuckles. “No, it was the check-in area.”
My eyes are probably embarrassingly wide as my head is on a constant swivel. Who the hell has a check-in area before the lobby?
“Where are we, Mars?”
He smirks and squeezes my hand. “I’ll tell you when we get upstairs.”
We take an all-glass private elevator up to the penthouse, surprise, surprise.
Harrison knew the code off the top of his head for the elevator, and now he enters a different one to enter the apartment.
“Harrison, this is unbelievable.” I spin around. “How is this possibly better than your place?”
“Um, thanks?” He laughs, and I can tell he’s not insulted because he knows this place is out of this world.
“Whose place is this, and why are we here?” He’s looking around nervously toward the staircase off to the side. “What is it?”
“Nothing, sorry. I thought I heard something.” He opens the wine fridge and grabs a bottle of vintage Dom Perignon and two glasses. Then he leads us toward the backdoor to a small terrace, which I’m shocked is smaller than Harrisons, though the East River and Brooklyn views are to die for.
He pours two glasses, turns on some music, and then it hits me…
He’s familiar, making himself at home. Was that whole thing in the lobby an act?
“Oh my god. Is this your fuck pad?”
He gives me a funny look. “What the hell are you talking about?”
