Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Maureen sighed heavily, her brow wrinkling. “Lily, I hate to ask, but would you mind doing it for me? You don’t have to wait for him. I’ll give you his code, and you can just leave it on his desk. If he wants it sent back tonight, he’ll call a courier.”
“Sure, that’s no problem,” I said casually, hoping she couldn’t hear my heart slamming against my ribs. “I don’t mind waiting, either.”
“No, don’t do that.” Maureen shook her head absently. “He goes to happy hour with his friends on Tuesday, so there’s no telling when he’ll be home.”
I left the building clutching the padded envelope. I was worried I’d run into Con on the way out and lose my chance to go to his apartment, but I didn’t. For once I was glad that he was nowhere to be seen. I went back to my condo first. I felt too keyed up to go straight to his place. If he’d answered the door, my nerves would have strangled me.
I poured myself a glass of wine. I’d finally bought my own bottles so I didn’t have to keep making notes of things I needed to repay Halley for. While I drank it, I considered changing clothes. It figured that the one day I’d worn one of my old dresses from college would be the day I was sent to Con’s apartment. In the end though, I decided to stay in what I was wearing. I didn’t want to be too obvious. I was willing to put myself in his way, but he’d have to make the next move.
The wine did the trick of taking the edge off my nerves, and I headed down the street to the address Maureen had given me with a spring in my step. As it turned out his building was only one block from mine.
I was intimidated by the ornate lobby I stepped into. Even more so when a haughty concierge flanked by a burly security guard called, “Excuse me? Can I help you?” in a tone that clearly implied I was in the wrong place.
“I’m Lily Anderson,” I said, hoping Maureen had remembered to let them know I was coming. “I have a package for Conall Walker.”
Don’t tell me to leave it here, I begged silently.
Luckily, the concierge just nodded and directed me to the elevator bank. There was a private one that went exclusively to his floor, and the concierge called for it from his desk. The carriage that carried me up twenty-four floors was absurdly luxurious. Marble tiles, a cut crystal chandelier, and velvet wallpaper. I couldn’t help but run my fingers over the bristly gold walls, wondering if it was Con’s style.
When it opened on his private lobby, I decided it wasn’t. Con’s space was the opposite of opulent. It was luxurious, but in a stripped down, austere way. He didn’t have much furniture, but what he did have looked as though it had come out of the pages of a catalog. One that only millionaires should bother to subscribe to. The space was smaller than I expected, but I realized it was because the terrace that wrapped around his apartment was huge. The floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, dining room, and kitchen all had the ability to roll up like garage doors, eliminating the division between indoor and outdoor. There were potted plants everywhere that replaced the usual trappings of a home.
I rubbed the leaf of a Ficus between my fingers, intrigued. Con had a few plants in his office, but I hadn’t taken him for a gardener. But these all looked as though they’d been tended by an expert hand. I made a mental note to ask Halley about it, and then immediately discarded it. Even with the veneer of respectability that being sent here on an errand gave me, I didn’t want Halley to have any reason to suspect I was interested in her father. Not for any reason.
Anything that happened between us had to stay a secret.
I found his office right where Maureen said it would be—in the back of the apartment across from a closed door that I assumed was his bedroom. The back of the place continued the inside-out theme. The wall was a sliding glass door from which I could see a putting green on the backside of the terrace. A lemon tree grew beside his desk, a small greenish fruit growing at the end of a branch, weighing it down.
I set the envelope down and felt a curious sense of disappointment. This was it. I was done with what I’d been sent to do. I was going to leave now, and everything would remain exactly as it was. Suspended between attraction and action. I walked out of his office reluctantly, but instead of going back toward the front, I reached for the knob of his bedroom door. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t resist. This might be my only chance to see his space. The way my plan was going, my job would be over before I got him to kiss me again. Much less do the things I dreamed about.