by Zoey Derrick
Regardless, the penthouse has an amazing view that makes the nosey, stuck up neighbors worth it. I watch Ireland carefully as I take her to the elevators. The lobby is quite upscale, decorated in whites and gold and there is probably more money in this lobby than she’s ever seen in her lifetime. If I wanted to avoid throwing my wealth at her, I should have taken her to a hotel, but the idea of something so impersonal when it comes to her makes me feel like a dirty asshole.
The elevator arrives. “Wait, where’s my suitcase?”
I assure her, “Byron will bring it up after parking the car.”
“You own the limo?”
I give her a quizzical look. “Yes,” I answer with some hesitation.
“Jesus, how much money do you have?” I watch with a smirk on my face as she slaps her hand over her mouth.
I kiss her forehead, the sexual intensity in the elevator ignites again and I watch as she drops her hand and her mouth falls slack. “You really want to know?” I ask her.
“No.”
“That’s quite definitive there, tigress.”
“It’s none of my business, Dyson,” she says, a hint of anger in her voice, but her eyes betray her curiosity. “Besides, it doesn’t matter to me if you have five dollars in your wallet or five million.” Her terse tone tells me she’s serious and I start to rethink our distance these last ten years. This of course makes me feel more like a prick than I already do.
Changing the wayward thoughts, I ask her, “Are you going to freak out on me when I show you my apartment?”
“Probably.”
The look on her face is too serious and I laugh, “Good to know.”
The elevator dings, indicating our arrival on the top floor. The doors slide open into the foyer. There is only one door, my door.
“My housekeeper was going to prepare breakfast for us. Are you hungry?”
“Famished,” she says without a comment about my housekeeper. At this point, I should probably just rip off the band-aid, that way there are no surprises later on.
I enter the code into the door. She watches me carefully. “Seriously?” She looks at me, a little confused with a whole lot of skepticism.
“Best day of the year.”
“That’s my birthday,” she mutters in shock.
“It is.” I smile at her and push the door open.
“How long has it been your code?” She raises an eyebrow at me.
“Since the day the door was installed.”
“When was that?”
I laugh, “You really want to know?”
“I don’t know, do I?”
“I bought the house on March twenty-ninth.” She gasps. “Three years ago, the door was installed the next day.”
“Dammit, Dyson.” She turns on me, “Why?”
“What what, VeeVee?”
“Why didn’t you come find me?”
I push her up against the hallway wall and bring our bodies together. “I tried.”
“It couldn’t have been that hard. Mom’s phone number never changed.”
“I didn’t want you to find out I was looking for you. I was afraid if you knew I was coming, you’d run away from me before I could find you.” I brush a stray curl out of her face and I smile at her. “Besides, if I had come to find you, what would you have done?”
“Probably exactly what I did at the bar the other night.”
I can’t help but laugh. “That still hurts, by the way.”
“I’m sorry.”
I chuckle a little, “I’m not.”
“You really are a crazy ass fool.”
“Your crazy ass fool,” I counter and bring my lips to hers. I kiss her gently, and despite my attempt to keep it platonic, I fail as she gently drops her purse on the ground before wrapping her arms around my neck, holding me to her, and pressing her body against mine.
She pulls back and makes eye contact. “There’s a bed in here somewhere, right?”
“Ah, my feisty tigress, yes, there are several actually, but…” I reluctantly look at my watch, it’s quarter after eight, “I don’t have enough time to fully savor your body the way it deserves.” Her breathing grows ragged at the idea of me savoring her. I grin. “Come on, tour, then breakfast.”
She sighs but reluctantly comes along.
Chapter 28
IRELAND
“Gonna Make You Love Me” - Ryan Adams
Dyson’s penthouse apartment is… overwhelming. There really is no other description for it.
The ceiling is at least twenty feet high in the main living area, which is divided into two parts by a free standing gas fireplace. On one side is the living room or my idea of one anyway. There is a couch, coffee table and a couple of chairs facing a large flat screen that has to be at least sixty-five inches. Underneath it is a very sleek, very discreet entertainment center.
On the other side of the fireplace is a rather informal looking dining room with a bar height table and bar stool type chairs, that’s where our place is set for our breakfast. Which smells divine. Beyond that table is a doorway to a much more formal dining area. To the left of that is a kitchen that looks state of the art but he takes the way of the hallway near the big television so I don’t get a good look. Down the hallway are two bedrooms that are probably as big as, if not bigger than, my whole apartment back in Phoenix.
Both rooms have king size beds and a simple décor. Beyond those two bedrooms are two more doors. One is locked with another keypad entry. He points out that it’s his office, but doesn’t open the door. The other portal is an entryway into the entertainment room. There is another television, more well-used furniture, including a sectional couch and a couple of oversized chairs. Behind the couch is a pool table, and on the walls are old beer signs you’d find in bars or pubs down on the streets of New York. Beyond the pool table, like much of the penthouse, is one huge floor to ceiling window.
In front of the window a ridiculously comfortable looking chair I could see myself reading in for hours with the bustling New York streets below to look at. Though the people are tiny from up here, you can see them moving around each other and in and out of traffic as they make their way to their destinations. The idea of making myself comfortable in that chair reading brings a slice of fear about this being our only weekend. Will this be the only time I’m ever in this apartment? I don’t like that idea at all and I try, in vain, to squash it before it blossoms into something worse. That fear is replaced when the vision from the airplane comes back to me. The view from up here reminds me of how much it made me want to live in New York. Watching from the window now is no exception.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Dyson asks as I look out the window.
“I was just thinking about how much I think I would enjoy living in New York.”
I see his reflection as he steps closer to me, a huge smile spread across his face. “We could always make that happen.”
I look at his reflection in the window. “I’m about to start a new job in Phoenix, I couldn’t possibly…”
“I just meant that if you wanted it bad enough, I’m confident we could get you transferred here.”
“I know, I just…I guess I just need a change of pace,” I sigh.
“Explain, please?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Working at Wellington scares me.”
“Why?”
I turn around to look at him, searching for how best to explain this. “I haven’t exactly had the most positive experiences when it comes to Wellington. First, getting the phone call about…” I don’t finish, he knows and I don’t need to, “Then, no offense, but our confrontation in the lobby, followed by you arguing with Wellington about not hiring me, add to that the fact you still don’t want me working for him.”
“No, I don’t. But my reasoning is purely selfish.”
“How so?”
He reaches for my hand and I give it to him. “Because of two reasons. One, I didn’t know how I would be able to do my
job with you downstairs. Even if you hadn’t figured out who I am, it would have killed me to have you right downstairs and…I guess I didn’t think you’d find it in that pretty mind of yours to forgive me.” He gives me a small smile. “The second reason is because if you did figure it out or if I somehow managed to rekindle what we had all those year ago, you working for Wellington poses an issue.”
“The no fraternization rule.”
“Exactly, though if Wellington wants to keep my business, he wouldn’t fire you.” He pauses as if he’s pondering something, then he sighs. “And I guess there are really three reasons. Though I hadn’t been there for the entire interview, I realized, listening to you talking to them, that you have a real knack for business and marketing. At the time, the reason I argued with him was because I wanted you to come work for me.”
“Dyson, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I need to be able to work on my own. I need to be able to prove myself. I don’t want you becoming my white knight when it comes to my job. I’ve gone to school and worked my ass off for six years to work at Wellington. I won’t let you or anyone else stand in my way.”
He smiles wider at me before declaring, “That’s the tigress I know.”
“Promise me,” I say and he raises an eyebrow in question. “That if I lose my job at Wellington, because of whatever reasons, you’ll stay out of it?”
He nods his head reluctantly. “I will stay out of it, I promise.”
“Thank you.” I return his smile.
“Come on, there’s some more to see.”
He tugs on my hand and pulls me back down the hallway toward the living room and that’s when I see someone in the kitchen, but he doesn’t take me in there, instead he leads me up the spiral staircase that leads to the second floor and down a small hallway to a single door. “The Master suite,” he says as if it is almost a dirty word and the Cheshire grin on his face tells me his mind is in the same place mine is as he opens the door.
Stepping inside the massive room is… Wow,” I tell him. Directly opposite the door is a huge picture window that extends floor to ceiling and wall to wall. The view is… “Wow,” I breathe again.
There aren’t any buildings between his and the river below. “That’s the Hudson, across from it is New Jersey,” he explains.
“It’s gorgeous from up here.” I smile and then turn toward him. On the wall – to the right of the door – is a massive four poster bed. No canopy, but its iron frame is gorgeous nonetheless. There are night stands on each side, and a large, gorgeous picture hanging above the bed.
The picture is in black and white, and along the bottom are silhouetted flowers painted from one side to the other, the flowers continue deeper into the picture where there is a silhouette of a girl, with curly hair. My eyes go from it to Dyson and back again.
“I commissioned it a couple years ago.”
“Dyson, it’s…I don’t even know what to say.” Here I thought I’d had a hard time getting over the fact I felt like I was still in love with a man I was likely to never see again, but the little things that keep popping up prove I was never far from his mind either.
He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. “One more room, then food.” My stomach growls at the thought of food and he leads me into the ensuite bathroom.
“Jesus, you could swim in that thing,” I giggle when I take in the sight of the massive bathtub sitting center stage in the room. To the left is a dual sink vanity, one side has what is obviously his stuff, the other is… “What’s all that?” I ask him, pointing to the other side.
“I didn’t know what kind of toiletries you would pack, so I had someone run and grab them this morning.”
“How’d you-” I stop myself, remembering the other night when he’d gone into my bathroom to get dressed again after…I shake my head and smile. “Is there anything you don’t think of?”
“Of course, I’m far from perfect.” I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling his head down to mine and I kiss him. It was meant to be chaste but he takes it up a notch and before I know it, my breathing is ragged, my heart is racing and that desire that had cooled before burns hotter and brighter.
“Food,” he growls as he leads me out of the bathroom. That’s when I notice the matching chair to the one downstairs with my suitcase sitting next to it. I smile as he leads me downstairs to the table and to the wonderful smelling breakfast his housekeeper made for us.
Chapter 29
Dyson
“First Love” - Adele
Leaving Ireland alone in my penthouse is quite possibly the worst feeling in the world. What was I thinking, bringing here all the way to New York? I was thinking with my dick, that’s what.
I’d introduced her to Kathy, my housekeeper before we sat down to eat. As much as I didn’t want our time together to end this morning, I have to go. I don’t have a choice. This meeting is really important and it’s the whole reason I’m here and not back in Phoenix.
Byron opens the door to the Escalade parked on the street in front of my building and I slide inside and do everything in my power to wipe my mind of the fact my tigress is up in my apartment, waiting for me to come home. I can’t take the distraction today. I’ve been putting off coming to New York until I knew when Ireland was starting her job. For some reason I needed to be there when she started. I didn’t understand it and now that I’m in New York, I’m going to miss her first day anyway.
If I hadn’t gotten the call I did on Wednesday, after going shopping for Ireland’s things, I wouldn’t have been able to wait until Monday or until she was done processing everything I’d told her. I knew staying in Phoenix was going to be trouble for me and for her. Then I end up bringing her here anyway. At least I don’t have to sit in my condo less than a block away wondering what she’s doing or if she’s going to call me.
It brings me a sense of calm knowing she’s here, she’s in my apartment and she’s safe. Now to get this shit over with so I can go back to her.
Chapter 30
IRELAND
“Ride” - Chase Rice
A whirlwind of things hits me all at once after Dyson leaves. The adrenaline rush of coming to New York and seeing Dyson, the desire Dyson ignites inside me, and pure exhaustion consumes me the moment he walks out the door. As much as I hated to have him leave, the kiss he left me with still has my lips prickling with a desperate need to kiss him again.
Kathy, Dyson’s housekeeper, is sweet. Maybe in her early to mid-forties and her sweetness comes from the motherly way she handles things. It makes me think of my mother and my heart aches.
It’s all too much.
I need something to clear my mind before the thoughts of my mother consume me in a ball of tears on the floor and I make a move to help Kathy clean up. But she’s humming along to a tune in her head and looks perfectly content to be doing what she’s doing so I don’t interrupt her.
I make my feet move forward and allow them to carry me up the stairs and into Dyson’s bedroom. Bedroom is an understatement; this room is at least the size of my whole apartment, if not two of them. His decorations are simple and yet very Dyson.
I find my bags and pull my new iPad from my purse, then go rummaging through my suitcase for a change of clothes and head into the bathroom. I decided during breakfast I would take some time in the massive tub and relax while I wait for him to return to me.
I set my iPad up on the counter, away from the tub and all things water related, and start up his playlist again. I put it on random and let it roll through the songs. I’m surprised when the music comes out louder than I’d thought it would, but… I look around the bathroom. It’s not blaringly loud, but it’s louder than my iPad should be producing and I reach for the button to turn it down. The sound lowers but it pops up and says Bluetooth.
Shit…
I walk out of the bathroom, leaving my iPad on the counter and I don’t hear anything, so I go into the hallw
ay which overlooks the living area below and I don’t hear anything there either, not even Kathy.
I shrug and go back into the bathroom. Must just be in that room. Odd. I shrug it off and adjust the volume to something comfortable, regardless of what song plays, it shouldn’t blast me with noise.
I go to the tub and sitting near the faucet are some balls, about the size of a softball. I pick one up and realize it’s wrapped in plastic and I turn it until I find the label.
“Oh,” I squeak when I read the label. I’ve heard about these things, but I’ve never seen them before. There are several in a basket and I grab one of the light purple ones and see that it’s a lavender-chamomile combo. I turn the faucet on, find a good temperature and I push the plug down, letting it fill. I’m about to stand up when I see something flicker. It’s built into the tub, it’s a screen. I chuckle glancing at it and realize it’s got all kinds of options. One is quick fill and I can’t stop myself from hitting that button. The room fills with noise and I look into the tub to see several of what I thought were whirlpool jets start to spout water, filling the tub.
I stick my hand in it, checking the temp, it’s a little colder than I like but I decide to check the screen before messing with the faucet. I smile when I push a couple buttons to bump up the temp and after a few heartbeats, I check the bigger faucet and it’s warmed up more. Good.
I leave the bathroom just as a song I love comes on the iPad and Birdy’s voice fills the room with her soulful voice singing Skinny Love. I smile. I’m about to pull my shirt off when I remember this room is completely surrounded by light from the outside. “Hmm.”
I wonder if his room is as tech savvy as his bathtub is and I start looking for blinds or something along the windows but I don’t see anything. Shit. I don’t even know why I came out here to change in the first place. I can do that in the bathroom. I turn and something catches my attention, a series of switches along the small hallway from the door in the bedroom and I walk over to it. Of course, nothing is labeled, but there is a knob of sorts and I turn it. Immediately the room starts to darken and I keep turning it until the room is nearly pitch black. “Well, that’s nice,” I smirk and flip one of the other switches that doesn’t seem to do anything, then I try another and then finally one last one and a soft light illuminates near the bed.
