But what I’m learning about limos is that they’re not nearly as enjoyable as I thought they were—not when I’m by myself.
Turns out it’s the company, not the car.
The one thing that’s making this limo ride bearable—as we speed silently west along the Brooklyn Queens Expressway to who knows where—is knowing that there’s company waiting for me to enjoy at the end of the trip.
The kind of company who helped me pick up my life and my dreams from where they left off.
But that’s for when school starts up again tomorrow…or maybe I’ll let myself have just one day off.
For now, let’s see where this is going, am I right?
What was an overcast day is now quickly becoming blue and bright. Shafts of sunlight are fighting their way through the gray clouds.
I shudder with excitement.
Before I know it, we’ve turned off the Long Island Expressway, and we’re driving along what I think could be considered surface streets, although this seems more like some kind of rural road going through the middle of nowhere.
No, not some rustic rural road going through uncharted territory, but more like an enchanted, well-paved path surrounded by a dense beautiful forest. I feel like I’m in the middle of a European forest in some fairytale land that I never knew existed.
I feel a tingling all over my skin as the limo takes a sharp left turn from the majestic path we’re on to another path going straight through the woods.
The deciduous trees are beautiful and dense, and they’re letting through just enough sunlight to make the view seem magical.
I shake my head, a little confused and a lot enchanted.
On one hand, I don’t want this ride to end.
On the other, I can’t wait to find out what’s waiting for me at this mysterious address that I’ve intentionally forgotten.
Yes, intentional. All I remember from the text is that it was nothing more than a number and some street with a peculiar name. And even though I haven’t been in contact with the guys since then, there’s not even a trace of doubt in my mind that we’re going to the right place.
That’s because I just spotted the palatial top of a multifaceted-style mansion.
The quick glimpse was just a clue of what it looks like up close, but I can already tell—it’s gonna be more magical than this ride.
We are approaching this mythical Wonderland, whatever it is, so slowly and so dramatically, I feel like the guys must’ve given the driver instructions to slow down the closer we get.
“Excuse me, sir,” I shout to the driver, “I appreciate the showmanship, but I really want to get there faster.”
The driver gives a little wave of his right hand and laughs musically.
“I’ve been told you may say something like that, madam.”
“Oh? And what were you told to do in that case?”
“Would you really like to get there faster? Because I’ve been told to make sure that’s what you’d really want.”
I cross my arms, smile, and nod with a touch of sassiness. “Yeah, I really do. Oh, I really do.”
“As they say in the movies, madam, your wish is my command.”
The classic Town Car limo, which has been a wonderful ride, but does not appear to be any type of a performance vehicle, accelerates smoothly, evenly, as all the details of the estate of my literal dreams comes closer and closer into view.
I know there’s a mansion at the center of it all. I can be sure that it’s so fucking huge that to look upon it would be to understand the true meaning of the phrase ‘larger than life.’
So far, all I’ve gotten are glimpses, but I can’t let my imagination run too wild while I’m still enjoying the lead-up to the main attraction.
However, even the journey there is beyond my wildest fucking imagination.
The mind’s eye has a way of filling things in with the imagination that reality can never quite match. But as anyone paying attention could guess, my reality isn’t just matching my imagination these days—it’s totally fucking exceeding it.
“And madam,” the driver continues as he accelerates down what is becoming I think is a driveway, “I don’t think my clients will mind me telling you that they didn’t want to wait too long for your arrival. They’re beginning to get a little antsy waiting at the new place, complaining that not everyone was there yet—and that was before I picked you up.”
“The new place.” I say it out loud without thinking.
These guys surely own a million homes each. This must be one of them—a new one, it seems.
But what does my arrival have to do with anything?
I don’t know, but this is probably the type of place I wouldn’t mind calling home for at least an afternoon...and an evening, perhaps. Maybe three.
Even after all the good news today, I still could use a bit of stress relief.
“I’m getting antsy, too,” is all I say to the driver.
“Say no more.”
And I do say no more, and settle with watching the manicured lawns speed by through the window, deciding that a little bit of suspense may not be the worst thing.
Flat, verdant, endless lawns of grass start to give way to small, symmetrical rows of bushes on either side of the road.
They’re subtly, masterfully landscaped, with uniform violet flowers. It’s all set up very dramatically as the driver slows down. Maybe he sees me looking out the window, or he’s caught up in the landscaping, too.
I don’t think it’s the right time of year, yet somehow everything is in full bloom.
I try picturing what I’ll see as we get closer to the mansion entrance.
I imagine iron gates and stone fences.
I imagine trimmed and neatly landscaped florae arranged in brilliant, gorgeous color schemes.
I don’t know where I stopped imagining, or where reality took over, but what I see in front of me, clear as this day has become, is everything I pictured and more, all framing—yes, there it is—a neoclassical behemoth of a brick mansion.
“How are you doing back there, madam?” The driver asks, for no reason but to gauge if I’ve gone fucking speechless yet.
“Hungry,” I reply, letting my mouth act bit faster than my brain.
Coming up to the entrance of this magical castle in the middle of New York State, I imagine three guys.
Standing there, watching my limo arrive.
Dressed in dark, formal suits. Suits that are even nicer than what they normally wear—which I did not think was possible.
Lucas holding a bottle of champagne.
Oliver holding two glasses.
Elijah in the center, holding the biggest damn bouquet of long-stemmed roses you could ever fucking dream of.
I realize I’m not imagining any of it, not even for a moment.
I’m seeing every detail of it in pure, explicit reality, with my own two eyes.
The chauffeur takes one more sharp left, bringing the front of the limousine into a little concrete embankment that seems to be built just for this purpose.
“This is some place you guys have here,” I remark while stepping out of the limo, “I’m glad I had a bit of time to get ready before the car picked me up.”
“Looks like you spent a lot of time getting ready, not that it matters,” Lucas tells me, grinning. “We don’t care if you just rolled out a bed, out of a botany lecture or out of some overpriced salon on the East Side”
I laugh. “Are you gonna hold those two champagne flutes forever, or are they both for me?” I ask Oliver.
“You want them? You can have them, plus all the champagne. There’s plenty more.”
“You guys set all this up just to celebrate getting me back into Colombia,” I remark with an amused, flattered smile.
“We’re celebrating a lot of things,” Elijah joins. “Celebrating our new life here, and our new house.”
New house.
I never pictured something like this as a new house.
> I’d be lucky to be able to save up enough for an efficiency apartment somewhere in Hell’s Kitchen—with a 30-year mortgage.
“You guys are doing pretty well.”
“‘You guys,’” Lucas says, laughing. “Listen to her.” He shakes his head. “You’re doing just as well, Sofie.”
My three billionaires all grin.
“Why don’t we give you a tour of our new place?”
I don’t know which one of them says it. I was too busy gaping at the mansion to notice who spoke, but I do catch something.
Our place.
There’s something in my brain that makes me think they’re including me, somehow, but there’s no way that’s true.
“It’s true, Sofie. This is for all of us, but it’s especially for you.” Elijah’s reading my mind, and his soft words are followed by the loud pop of a champagne cork. I catch the sight of it rocketing far out into the distance.
Oliver hands me both champagne flutes, and Elijah fills the glasses skilfully.
With my hands happily full of champagne, I follow my three favorite billionaires into my new house.
Sofie
“This makes all the old, famous, ivy-covered buildings at Columbia look like piles of fucking garbage!”
Those are my first words in the new place, I shout them as we walk into the lobby.
Yeah, I think it's technically a lobby.
The guys roar with laughter and the sound echoes deeply around the front hall.
Not a scary, ancient-sounding echo like the ones you can hear in the administrative building where the Dean presides. This is the opposite: a beautiful reverberation around the marble floor and stairs.
I stare up at the ornate friezes in the ceiling. I don't know where I'm going, and I’m gleefully guzzling my first glass of champagne. I just follow the guys up the red carpet laid out in the marble staircase.
“Just so you know, there’s at least one elevator in all the buildings in the property, and there’s one for each wing of the mansion,” Oliver asserts proudly.
“Oliver’s showboating,” says Lucas, “there are only a handful of buildings apart from the mansion.”
I'm finished with my first flute of champagne, and I haven’t seen much except for the front hall lobby place and the stairwell. I try to hold in my gasp when I get my first sight of a huge, central courtyard from the second story window.
Just during a quick peek while passing the window, I spot an array of plant life that could put the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens to shame.
Reality begins to hit me hard in the best way possible.
This is my home now, and I can spend all the time I want in that courtyard. Anytime I want.
I get a fresh shiver of excitement, and I don’t even want any more champagne.
“Anybody want this?” I hold the champagne flute high in the air, and Lucas gently takes it from my hand.
“So, what’s your take so far?” Elijah asks me with a gleam in his eye.
He knows damn well that I’m freaking out about the courtyard, and they all know damn well that I’m just fucking beside myself right now.
“I’m getting hungry, actually.”
Since they all know how I feel, I don’t need to say it. Besides, I have a feeling there will be plenty of opportunity for all of us to express our excitement not too long from now.
I’m also not really getting hungry, but that should be clear.
“Oh, I think we can take care of that soon enough.” Lucas gets the idea.
We reach the end of the hallway, and suddenly we're in a room that doesn't quite look like it belongs here.
That’s no complaint: it’s super comfortable and just standing here feels great.
There’s a tiny bit of chill from the air conditioning. I would’ve thought it was too cold for that, but it's the perfect temperature.
There's cream colored carpeting, an insanely expensive looking stereo system—not that I know much about that kind of shit—and an empty black display case next to it.
It seems like it’s meant to showcase awards, but there are none there.
“That empty awards display is a bit presumptuous, guys. Don’t you think?”
“Eh, it could be for awards, but could be for anything,” Lucas admits, “I don’t think we’ve figured it out, yet.”
I spot a few plaques handing from the hall at the edge of my vision. Giving them a quick glance, I see that they’re from NYU, and Columbia, and several community colleges from throughout the region, recognizing BioKin for its generosity.
I’m just about to ask why they don’t keep those at BioKin, but I stop myself when I realize that they don’t want to show them off—which is fine, since I know the money really came from their own pockets.
Before I look away, I also notice some old newspaper and magazine clippings framed on the wall—all of them are BioKin-related articles from seminal points in the company’s rise.
“This would be a nice space to set up some research equipment,” I quip.
“Oh, we converted an entire carriage into a research facility,” Lucas informs me. “Nothing crazy, really, but we’re looking to maybe expand it in the future.”
“We made sure it competes with the facilities you use most often at Columbia,” adds Oliver.
I don't even think I could process that right now so, I just scope out the room a bit more than I normally would.
It’s quite a bit larger than it seemed at first. I notice several bookshelves neatly lined up in one corner with a couple amazingly inviting recliners nearby.
“Jesus, you guys ever hear of watching TV?”
I flash my smile again, and this time Lucas is game.
“I haven’t, is that a show on Netflix or something?”
I spot a colossal television in the far corner of the room from the bookshelf.
“What about that one?” I point at the TV with purpose and a bit of coquettishness, sort of resembling a classic pinup pose.
“Well, there is that one,” Lucas admits with fake sheepishness.
“There’s also the screening room.” Oliver shrugs, as if that’s a normal, no-big-deal thing for him to mention.
“So, you guys have a movie theatre is what you’re saying?”
“We had one put in downstairs, that’s all,” says Elijah, really savoring his turn to ham it up with false modesty. “All we did was make sure we had the best private cinema on the Eastern seaboard, with acoustics that compete with Radio City, first-run distribution from major studios...”
“So, just mainstream Hollywood stuff?” I brandish my jokey grin at them yet again, allowing a hint of edginess to it this time.
“You prefer foreign films?” Oliver sounds like he may or may not be in on the joke.
“Mmmmaybe,” I respond.
“I think I know the kind of flicks Sofie’s talking about,” Lucas declares, his grin growing to match mine.
Fuck, I think I’m getting hungry, because there’s some part of me that’s beginning to growl and grumble.
It may not be my stomach, though.
“Ohhhh, I don’t know what kinda shit you guys are into...”
“Whatever you’re into.” Elijah’s right on the ball as usual.
“Oh, shit, I guess I figured you all right the fuck out, then.”
“I believe you have, Sof,” Oliver avows with a nod, “and that belief is, how should I put this…strong as fuck.”
With that, the tour continues, and I follow the guys back out into the lavish, opulent hallway—now there’s a phrase I never expected to associate with any present or future home of mine.
I spot a heavy, wooden door partially ajar just as we leave the room.
“What’s in there?” I ask.
“Oh, that’s just one of the bathrooms,” Elijah says, “if you’d like to check it out, it’s pretty much the same as all the others.”
“Well, yeah. It’s a tour, isn’t it?” Since I’m closest to the door, I let myself r
ight in.
“Uh, guys?” I call out.
“What is it, Sofie?” Oliver responds from the hallway.
“Are you sure this is a bathroom? I mean, I see a bathtub way over there, and a separate walk-in shower, and there is a toilet, and a bidet, but...”
I hear the guys chuckling quietly in the hallway.
“But what, Sofie?” Lucas asks with a small laugh.
I step back out into the hallway to answer in person.
“It’s like twice the size of my apartment, and there’s a fucking crystal chandelier and it’s the nicest room that I’ve ever seen, of any kind, in my life.”
The guys aren’t laughing anymore, but they’re beaming, just enjoying the crap out seeing me so impressed.
“It is pretty fucking nice, Sofie, and there’s another one attached to your study.”
“Another one like that? How many of those bathrooms could there be in this place?”
“They’re all like that,” Oliver responds. “Every bedroom has an en-suite, and then there are a few separate baths like that one, so there’s a couple dozen all together.”
“Yeah, so that’s fucking mindboggling and I can’t even...wait, did you say my study?”
“We have one that’s intended especially for you by one of the bedrooms.” Elijah’s looking at me tenderly as he delivers all this crazy fucking news, and I feel myself melting from that alone. “That bedroom is also yours, but...”
“...you can have any bedroom you want, and you’re beyond welcome to change your mind at any time,” Oliver interjects, helping to finish Elijah’s thought.
I’m not really processing any of this yet, but I think I’m going to have the time of my fucking life settling in here. After seeing that bathroom, I start considering what my bedroom could possibly be like, and what could be taking place there after the tour.
I’m struck by a strong, sudden urge to skip to that part of the tour, and save the rest for later...until I feel myself go cold at the thought of my room.
I remember that still have a room at my apartment, and a best friend who’s still there, expecting me to still be her roommate at least part of the time.
Fuck.
“I’d ask what you’d like to see next,” Oliver begins, “but I think your mind might be back in the city right now.”
The King's Virgin Bride Page 55
