“She’s lucky, I’ll give her that,” another male voice says, this one smoother, louder, and a little lazy. “I can’t wait to meet her. She hot?”
“Be quiet,” the other voice says. A few beats of silence and then, “You need a haircut.”
“Ow—stop messing with perfection.”
“You just can’t resist pushing the old man’s buttons, can you?” Definitely Hudson. I can hear the smile in his voice.
“He’s too busy hero worshipping you three to give a shit about me.”
“Cry me a river into your two-hundred-thousand-dollar a year salary.”
Clearly, Alexander isn’t down there or I would’ve heard him snap at someone—or, at the very least, grunt. I head downstairs, make the final turn, and nearly stumble off the last two steps when I catch sight of the man standing with Hudson. He’s tall like the rest of them, but the complete opposite of Alexander. Where Grizzly is bulky, rugged, and has a brutal resting bitch face, this guy is lean, dressed like he belongs on a runway in Milan, and looks at me as if I’m dessert.
“Well, well, well…” He saunters forward as if he’s floating. The only proof that his feet are actually touching the ground is the sound of his polished lace-up shoes. “The woman of the hour.” His eyes devour me from my face down, and upon returning, he gives me a wicked smile that promises all kinds of dirty. “You’re gorgeous.” He touches the lapel of my coat, smooths it against my collarbone, and picks off a piece of invisible lint. A gold ring on his middle finger catches the light, and I read the initials KN. “I have to give it to myself. I’m a fashion god.” He offers me his hand, and when I give him mine, he brings my knuckles to his lips. “Mmm, you smell divine.” His pants are velvet and the color of cranberries, and his button-up shirt is black with bright roses printed all over it. “You wear those clothes like a second skin.”
“Do I have you to thank for picking them out?”
“You do.” He takes my hand and directs me to spin. “But seeing you in them is thank you enough.”
I pull my hand from his and try to smile as if his attention doesn’t make me extremely uncomfortable. “Are you always this forward?”
He pushes a lock of wavy hair off his forehead, smoothing it over the top of his head with the rest of it. “Yes.”
Hudson grips the man’s shoulders and pulls him back a foot. “Jordan, this is our baby brother, Kingston.”
We share a smile, and I must say I like these two brothers the best.
“Right, well, I should get you home.” Hudson offers me his elbow and a pleasant smile. “Madam?”
I slip my hand into his arm, and he leads me toward the door. I lean around him to peer down a long hallway. “Is Alexander around? I’d like to say goodbye.” And ask him what the hell is going on and how is it that I woke up in his arms this morning only to be cast aside.
“I’m afraid he’s already left for the office.” He opens the double glass doors for me. “You can imagine the work that has piled up over the last five weeks.”
“Five weeks?”
We stop at the elevator, and he presses the button. “He’s back a week early. He prefers to get six.”
The elevator door pings, and he motions for me to walk in first. Rather than put my back to the wall, I turn and gasp at the view out the glass window.
“Pretty amazing, right?” He stands with me, enjoying the view as we descend.
“Incredible.” I shake my head, blown away that this is my life right now.
“Now you see what all the fuss is about.” When I look at him, he fills in the blank. “Alexander. He’s a goddamn savant.” He sighs as if bragging about his brother is something he does often and tires of. The elevator stops at the bottom—and in the center of a pool of crystal water filled with Koi fish. “This way.”
He places his palm at a platonic spot on my back and guides me over a bridge and through a pristine lobby. Everything is white, including the uniforms of the doorman and staff.
“Mr. North,” the doorman says with a slight bow. “Your car is waiting.”
“Thank you, Thomas.”
A sleek black town car sits idling, and a man dressed similarly to Murphy opens the back door. “Ms. Wilder, welcome.”
“Jordan’s fine,” I say as Hudson ushers me into the back. The seats are all fine leather, and the windows are tinted so dark that once he shuts the door, I’m practically blind. The temperature in the car is perfection, neither too cold nor too warm.
“Now, then,” Hudson says. “Where do you live? Zander said something about the Bronx?” There is no pity or judgment in his voice, but I feel ashamed anyway. How could I not when I’m surrounded by this indulgence?
“Yes. One hundred and sixty-fifth street. The Ross Apartments.”
“Did you hear that, James?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“A quick stop at the pharmacy to pick up your meds and you’ll be home—excuse me.” He pulls his vibrating phone from the inner pocket of his coat. “Mr. DeLeon, I’m glad you caught me.” He continues his business call, and I turn to watch Manhattan through the window.
My heart grows heavy with every mile as the closer I get to home, the more likely it is I’ll never seeing Grizzly again.
Sixteen
Alexander
I haven’t been back to my office on Madison Avenue for more than an hour and I’m already neck-deep in shit to do.
With my back to my desk so that I can watch the bustling city from forty-five floors up, I listen to Dan Foxman go on and on about the changes he’d like to make to the plans for his new building in Vancouver. I hear him out despite the fact that I knew my answer before I even got on the call.
“If we could make those changes and lower the cost—”
“Not possible.” I swivel around in my chair and glare at the phone. “If you’re looking for affordable, I suggest you hire a different firm.”
“There has to be some flexibility.”
“You asked for the best, and that’s what you got.” My executive assistant pokes her head in through the door. “You have twenty-four hours to sign off on the plans. Goodbye.” I sit back in my chair. “What is it?”
“Mr. North, your doorman called to let you know that your guest has left your residence.” She nods politely and backs out of my office.
“Close the door.”
The handle clicks shut, and I pull out my phone.
Accessing the security feed to my building, I click on the camera outside my door and rewind the video until I see movement. I hit pause.
My lungs seize for a few seconds as I stare at the image on my phone. She was gorgeous in dirty clothes and tangled hair. Cleaned up, she’s more than I could’ve imagined.
I slowly move the video forward, watching her familiar walk, the way she tilts her head when she’s listening, and the protective hold she has on her ribs—still her, but a more polished version. I can’t say I prefer one over the other. I watch her step onto the elevator. I take that back. I suppose I am partial to the version that isn’t currently walking away.