Page 6 of Only Lovers in the Building

He squinted to read it. “Marie-Louise Liliane Lyon.”

A faint Spanish accent added a lilt to the many Ls.

“Now you know my name,” she said. “Please use it.”

He ran his thumb over the engraved letters. “Bet no one calls you that.”

He had a point there. “It’s Lily.”

He handed her the clip. A current passed between them when their fingertips touched.

“Nice to meet you, Lily,” he said.

“Likewise.”

“Who carries a money clip anymore?” he asked.

“Me. It was a gift.”

“Ah.”

He leaned against a far wall, head tossed back. A moment ago, in the sultry light of the bar, he was dark and mysterious. In the unforgiving light of the elevator, he was just as dark, just as mysterious, only now she could appreciate the wave in his hair, the angle of his brows, the cut of his jaw. But those eyes . . . black, glossy, and bottomless.

“May I ask, do you have gray eyes?”

“Hazel.” Her eyes were a mix of brown and swamp green with streaks of silver, depending on the light.

“Beautiful.”

The word came out in a breath, the softest of whispers. Had he meant for her to hear? Only she had heard it, and it worked like a skeleton key, unlocking her innermost thoughts. “You’re my type,” she blurted.

That half smirk returned, and it was glorious, irresistible. Guess she hadn’t sworn off the party boys, after all.

Given that the word of the day was implosion, Lily would not stop until she acted on every impulse, no matter how self-destructive, stupid, or rash. When the urge to kiss him struck her, and struck hard, she did not hesitate. She stepped toward him, grabbed his strong shoulders, and kissed him full on the mouth.

It was one-sided.

When she released him and stepped back, he said nothing. Silence quickly filled the elevator like poison gas. Thank the patron saint of bad decisions, whoever it might be, the ride came to a crashing stop on the ground floor. The elevators exposed the building’s age. The heavy doors squeaked open with excruciating slowness. Lily grabbed her suitcase and her tote and charged out. To make a painful situation worse, she rolled the suitcase over his foot.

“Good night, Lily!” he called out. “Hope to see you around.”

The words landed like darts on her back. She glanced over her shoulder and stole one last look at his rugged, handsome face. After this, she hoped never to see him again.

Chapter Two

@LegalLyon Four ways to blow up your life in twenty-four hours. A thread.

Quit your job. Walk out and don’t look back.

Pay a premium for a flight home, then miss it.

Book an Airbnb. Hit a bar and thirst over the bartender. Kiss him without consent and wait to be slapped with a lawsuit.

Delete.

Lily chucked her phone clear across the bed. Best to stay off The App Formerly Known as Twitter. What good was it to telegraph to the world how badly she’d screwed up? As a sage woman once said, she could do bad all by herself.

Alone and awake at six in the morning in her strange new home, Lily was shaking with anxiety. The events of the past few days rattled her. What had possessed her to quit her job on the flimsiest of excuses? Regret, hurt feelings, and bruised pride were no reason to give up a six-figure salary and top-notch benefits. The way she’d gone about it, too . . . She hadn’t just burned a bridge, she’d polluted the stream beneath it. Then to turn around and book a summer rental in the heart of Miami Beach like it was nothing!