Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry.” I look at him and finally have a reason to stare at him. The gruff of his beard fills his face as though he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. His shirt pulls across his chest, and I’m wondering suddenly if he is tatted under there or is he bare. “I didn’t get your name.”
“Viktor,” he says gruffly with just a touch of an accent. He leans in, extending his hand, and my hand disappears in his. His hands aren’t soft like the ones I shake every day. No, these are hard, rugged, and callused.
“Let’s get started,” I say, putting his name at the top of the legal pad. “First, let’s start with your budget.”
“I have no idea,” he answers honestly. “I just sold my house in LA for four point five million.”
I nod my head. “LA is not the same as New York,” I tell him. “I just sold a one-bedroom, one-bathroom condo for one point two million.” His eyes shoot up, and I laugh. “Exactly.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask how much a four-bedroom home will go for,” he says.
“Prime New York location, you are looking at anywhere between eight and twenty million.” I tap my pen on the pad, and his eyes go to it. “But if you move more toward the middle, you’re looking at four to six million.”
“Is that a house or an apartment?” he asks, and I have to laugh again.
“There are no such things as houses in New York.” I see his thumb tapping the table. “Listen, why don’t I ask you a couple of questions, and then we can talk budget. How many bedrooms were you thinking?”
“Two bedrooms are good,” he says, and I write it down.
“Are you married, with a girlfriend, or have kids?” I ask the standard question I ask every person. But with him, this particular question bugs me, and I don’t know why. Maybe, I’m just really curious.
“Is that on the questionnaire?” he asks. Looking at me, he leans back in his chair and folds his hands on his stomach, pulling his shirt tight.
“There are some apartments that won’t sell to a family with a crying baby,” I tell him honestly. “And if you have a girlfriend or a wife, she will have more specifics than a single man who just needs a couch and a bed.” His face doesn’t show anything. “Just as I don’t want to waste your time, I’m sure you don’t want to waste mine.”
“I’m alone,” he says. My heart suddenly kicks up just a touch more than normal, and I see that I’m throwing too much at him.
“Relax.” I smile, but he just stares at me. “These are the easy questions.”
“I bet.” His tone is now dry, but his stare so intense I want to look away, yet don’t.
“What type of neighborhood did you want?” I ask him the loaded question. “See, a lot harder, right?”
“I’ve been to New York a total of maybe ten times and each time for two days, maybe three,” he says. “Each time, I stayed in a hotel.” He puts up his hand to stop me from asking where. “I don’t know where. I don’t remember half of the shit that went on in the past couple of years.”
I see the confusion on his face. I also see that he is helpless in this matter. “I don’t usually do this,” I tell him, putting down my pen, “but how about we spend Saturday going around New York, so you can get a feel of things?” I fold my hands together. “We can check out different neighborhoods, and you can see where you feel most comfortable. What feels like home to you.”
“Why?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.
“Well, for one, I take my job seriously.” I sit up. “I want you to find a home, not just a house where you come and go.” I take a breath and continue. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Also, I just thought I would offer a helping hand.”
“Is this to piss off Matthew?” His eyes get a deeper blue, and a smirk fills his face now.
Leaning back in my own chair, I smile. “No.” I shrug and kind of smirk. “I mean, it doesn’t hurt to rile him up.”
He’s about to say something when I hear a knock on the door and look up to see Zara. “Hey, I heard you were here.” She smiles and looks over at Viktor.
“Holy shit, there are two of you?” He looks at me, then at Zara, and then back at me.
“Yes, but I’m the better-looking one,” we both say at the same time, making me shake my head, and Viktor bursts out laughing.
“Fine, I’ll go with the smarter of the two,” I finally say, and she walks in and extends her hand to him.