“Promise you won’t get mad at me first.”
“That depends on your answer.”
“Two months.” She blatantly lied. “Maybe three.”
“Okay, I promise not to get mad at you.”
“Two and a half years.”
“Years?” I stilled. “How much longer were you planning to get away with it?”
“I honestly don’t know,” she whispered. “I never planned on getting caught.”
“Obviously.” I gently let her down onto my chest. “I’ll never admit this again, but I’m glad you did get caught.”
Her soft snores were the only sound between us for the next several hours.
THE AGENT
CHLOE
Three Months Later
By the time Dante approved full renovation plans for all of his complexes, there wasn’t a resident willing to go on camera and oppose the idea of him buying The Holden.
He still had his fair share of detractors—mainly the people in the Sweet Seasons meetup group who kicked me out for being a “fucking traitor”—but their voices were drowned out by the results of his work.
And maybe I was biased by our numerous daily rounds of sex, but I swore he wasn’t being “ruthless” these days at all.
He was being nice…
“You’re talking to yourself again.” He moved behind me, tugging at my blindfold. “I’ve only asked you to stand here for five minutes.”
“It’s been way longer than that, Dante,” I said. “Maybe I wanted to make sure I wasn’t alone.”
“Noted.” He pressed a kiss against the shell of my ear. “You didn’t take any peeks, did you?”
“No.” I assured him. “I’ve been standing in this same spot since I came over, waiting for you to reveal your secret BDSM dungeon.”
He laughed again, pressing an even harder kiss against my neck.
“If I had one, I would’ve used that to punish you the first day we met,” he said. “I needed to move this so you could give me your honest opinion.”
“What is ‘this’ exactly?”
He untied my blindfold, pulling it away from my face.
As the fabric gave way, I noticed a lifelike model of The Holden standing in front of me.
Like Dante had pulled it straight from the version of New York people swore no longer existed, the plaza resembled a mini town with a sprawling park, multiple places for locals to gather, and a design that didn’t scream “Only for the rich.”
Despite being made entirely of carved wood pieces, the model looked impossibly lifelike.
“Who the hell did this?” I asked.
“Tell me if you like it first.”
“I love it.” I nodded. “Without knowing all the details, you’ll get a yes on this in a heartbeat.”
