“You sound surprised.”
“I was fifty-fifty.”
“That’s rude,” I point out.
“You strike me as someone who spends Friday nights reading.”
“I do spend Friday nights reading.”
His grin widens. “See? I know people.”
I laugh despite myself, easing the tension a little.
“You like that?” he asks, nodding toward the Lamborghini.
I look away, getting caught. “Not really.”
I do, but then that would admit I’m interested in guys with money, and clearly, he knows I come from nothing.
“That’s Saint’s.”
Of course he knows. At this point, who doesn’t know Saint’s car?
Elliot gestures toward the house. “You ready?”
“Yes,” I lie, dreading what I might find inside.
“Perfect.”
He offers me his elbow dramatically.
I roll my eyes but take it anyway. Together we walk toward the entrance. The closer we get, the stranger the house feels.
Modern.
Beautiful.
Cold.
The glass reflects the night sky in fractured pieces. Hidden lighting illuminates black stone pathways that cut through perfectly manicured landscaping.
The entire property feels engineered. Designed. Every detail is intentional. Nothing accidental.
The oversized black glass front doors have a large thin handle. Music pours into the night.
Elliot leads and pushes the door open.
The first thing I notice is the ceiling. It stretches three stories upward. Glass. Steel. Black beams cross overhead like the ribs of some enormous cathedral. A floating staircase curves through the center of the house. Above it hangs a chandelier made entirely of suspended glass droplets. Thousands of them. Each catching the light differently. Like frozen rain. The second thing I notice is the art. Not reproductions. Paintings. Massive canvases mounted against dark walls. Sculptures positioned beneath spotlights.
The kind of pieces people usually see in museums. The kind of wealth that doesn’t need to explain itself.
Students move through the space carrying crystal glasses and wearing clothes worth more than my monthly rent. Nobodyseems impressed, which somehow makes it worse. This is normal for them.
A girl walks past wearing a diamond necklace that probably costs more than my car back home. No one looks twice. My chest tightens.
Elliot notices because I haven’t moved an inch as I’m taking it all in.
“First time?”
