Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Morning, princess.”
“You drove this far without waking me?” I shift the seat belt around my neck. “That’s some superhero shit right there.”
One eyebrow quirks a bit, though he’s facing the road again so I can’t read his expression.
“Don’t tell me you’re impressed that easily.”
“I’m just saying, some of your secret agent juju might come in handy. Might.”
“You were out of it. Thought I’d have to carry you off that plane,” he says. “I think I could’ve dropped you on the tarmac and you wouldn’t have woken up.”
“Rude.”
“Did you know you snore? You should see somebody about that.”
I gawk at him, my cheeks fiery. “I do not. Take it back.”
He shrugs. “Whatever you want to believe.”
“I believe you’re just as annoying as I remember. That’s your real superpower.” I scrub at my eyes as we pull into a large parking garage connected to a familiar building.
Gramps’ old New York penthouse.
I’ve only been here a handful of times over the years, but it’s an impressive glass building that catches the sun.
Impossible to forget with its majestic city views.
“Wow. I thought they would’ve sold this one right away.”
“Still hasn’t gone on the market,” Holden explains as he pulls into the private parking lot. “In the meantime, it’s been used as a makeshift rental when it’s not accommodating Ethan’s out-of-state clients, an Airbnb. Better than a hotel for our purposes, security-wise.”
“Whoa,” I breathe as we pull into the underground parking lot.
It’s certainly sleeker than I remember. There are cameras everywhere, and everything looks squeaky clean.
Holden backs into a reserved space in one smooth motion and climbs out.
“I’ve got the bags,” he says, but I reach into the trunk for mine the instant it’s open.
I packed my bag so I know I can roll it in an elevator.
Besides, he has that jeweled bomb in the briefcase to look after.
“Relax,” I say. “You’re here for security, not to manhandle all my stuff.”
He scowls but pushes my bag in front of me.
Soon, we’ll be off to see Jasper Fairfax. That dull ache in the pit of my stomach deepens.
The long elevator ride up to the condo takes forever.
I try not to notice Holden’s reflection—or mine—in the mirrored gold walls of the elevator. When we finally reach the private floor and the main door opens, I inhale the smell of fresh renovation and old money in the city that never sleeps.
Seriously. You could’ve measured PopPop’s wealth just by the brutally overpriced square footage he owned behind glass.
A second later, I step into a huge, open plan living and dining area tucked behind ginormous windows looking out over the labyrinth of streets. A brick wall hung with what could be a few more expensive paintings. More auctions to come for a collection so massive.
The kitchen could host a gala all by itself.
Actually, you could probably host the whole thing in the living room. I could dance ballet here. Not that I’ve done ballet for years.
“So much space,” I say, prancing into the room and doing a spin. “That view is peak. Do you have any idea how much this place costs?”
“At least thirty lifetimes worth for me.” Holden grunts.
I giggle.
And I realize this is a sign that I’m an adult now. My first question is about multimillion-dollar real estate.
Runs in the Blackthorn blood, I guess.
I sweep through the gorgeous penthouse to my bedroom, the guest room I’d take on the rare visits here. It’s a touch smaller than the other two suites, but it has that cozy familiarity I need.
Only—
“Oh no. Holy crap.” I go numb. My eyes feel like glass.
Holden charges in behind me and stops dead in his tracks.
“Holy fuck,” he echoes.
The old room looks the same. Nice oak desk against the wall, exorbitantly expensive painting over the bed, blinds drawn on a window with a view people would literally kill for.
Nothing out of place except the bed. It’s missing a mattress.
Okay, look. I’ve slept on my fair share of hard floors after drunken nights in college, but I draw the line at sleeping on wooden slats and wrecking my spine forever.
Holden pulls out his phone while I open the closet, just in case there’s a mattress hiding in there.
Nope.
This keeps getting better.
“Dammit,” Holden snarls behind me. I turn back around in time to see him staring grimly at his screen. “Looks like the last client who stayed here made a serious mess. Ruined the goddamned mattress. I just checked the rental notes.”
“A mess? Doing what?” I wrinkle my nose. “Actually, never mind. Don’t answer that.”
“Partying, it seems. Make of that what you will.” He locks his phone and slides it back into his pocket. “Apparently housecleaning couldn’t fix it, so they had to throw the whole mattress out. I wish I’d looked before we arrived.”
“Well, we have two more rooms, right?”
He looks up grimly, looking like he just caught a bullet.