His own elevator. Silly, I know. I’m sure there’s much, much more to wealth like this.
“Welcome to my home.”
He unbuttons his tux jacket and leads the way. My mouth drops as I take in the space. It’s magnificent and so far beyond any luxury I could’ve imagined. Reclaimed wood floors contrast beautifully with stark white walls, and the black casings and trim of the expansive windows. Equally dark crown molding graces where walls meet ceiling, and a massive cast iron light fixture hangs from the center of the room, giving off a soft white glow. To the left, an open kitchen hints at expanses of polished granite and fixtures of modern stainless steel. But I don’t get that far. Luka reaches for my purse and shawl and sets them on the side of the L-shaped black leather couch in the center of the room.
Then he rests a hand against my lower back and walks me over to the view.
“What do you think?”
I think that I want to frame up some amazing shots of the city lights to share with my Insta followers. It’s a passing thought as I peer out the window at the beautiful illumination below. The lights are amazing against the night sky.
“I think you’re a lucky man to have a view like this. I’ve never seen Chicago at night from so high up before. It’s magic.”
His fingers trail over my shoulder to the nape of my neck, where he moves my long hair aside to bare the skin. He’s smiling, his eyes intensely focused as he holds my gaze. “I definitely could not imagine a better view.”
My cheeks warm and I look away as a rush goes through me. This is happening so fast. He seems to sense my anxiety as he lightly takes my hand. “How about a tour?”
“I’d love one.”
He starts by opening a set of French doors that lead to a double balcony, one a few steps below, one slightly higher and up a staircase. A variety of succulents grow in glazed pots and an infinity waterfall appears to spill from the roof, splashing into a small pool that’s maybe large enough for two or three people.
“Can you swim in that?” I ask.
“It isn’t very deep, but you’re welcome to try,” he says teasingly. “No suit required.”
“I’ll have to take you up on that next time,” I laugh.
I take his arm. Honestly, if he had just told me to strip and get in, I would have. Just like that. Instead, we head back inside where he shows me a second lounge room, a little smaller than the main living room. It boasts a flagstone wall with a rectangular fireplace cut in the center, with cream-colored recliners, a carved Balinese coffee table, and a leather sofa arranged around it. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases line two walls, and a mini bar is tucked into the back.
“After a dip in the pool, I find there’s nothing better than a sherry by the fire,” he says. “Naked, of course.”
Even though I know he’s just trying to get a rise out of me now, I can’t help but shiver at the mental image I’m getting. Luka Zoric. Naked by the fire. Of course.
We turn down a hall and come up to the backside of the kitchen. Just as I suspected, it’s completely professional, decked to the hilt with high-end everything. Dark cabinets offset the shine of the stainless steel. A large granite island in the middle has a sink on one end, and chairs around one side. There’s even a small electric fireplace peeking out from the far wall near the breakfast nook. Opposite is another recessed area with a Murano glass chandelier, long formal dining table, and chairs to seat ten.
I run my hand along the smooth surface of the granite, leaning against the island.
“Do you entertain a lot?”
Luka watches me run my fingers over the polished stone. “Not really. I prefer to keep things pretty quiet around here.”
I grin. “Makes sense. You don’t strike me as the kind who does a lot of family dinners.”
A sound comes out of him, a cross between a scoff and a laugh. He looks at the long table and shrugs. “Definitely not. I didn’t really grow up with them. My dad wasn’t around much.”
He looks away, and my heart immediately goes out to him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Luka grins, back to the smooth-talking sex-god persona. “It was for the best.”
God, I would so love to photograph this penthouse. How does it feel to be so accustomed to having luxury like this, that it doesn’t faze you anymore?
“Do you get lonely?” I ask.
He laughs. “No. I’m out and around people all the time. Kinda comes with the Zoric territory. This place is my sanctuary.”
“I get it,” I say with a nod. “But if this was my place, I definitely wouldn’t let it sit empty all the time. I’d want to share it—have people over as much as possible. It’d be so nice to have my friends and family all together in a space like this. I mean, look at this gorgeous table. It’s a shame you don’t use it.”
I walk over to the long table, admiring the gleam of the wood.
