He bites his lip. “Actually, I didn’t think of that. Like I said, I’d had a few drinks and I panicked.”
“Talk me through this.”
“Well, we only just got rid of Henry. Who I love, and who, by the way, will also have his own bedroom and living area when he’s back next from school. Great, right?” He gives me a salesman’s smile.
“Great.” I do not sound convinced. “How big is this place, exactly?”
“It’s…actually, why don’t we let that be a surprise?”
“Okay.” I’m not frowning. I’m just confused. It happens at times like these.
He sighs. “Thing is, when you get right down to it, I just couldn’t handle the thought of any more people sharing this place with us. Getting all up in our grill. Preventing us from walking around half naked. Judging our suitability as a possible life partner for their daughter. Things like that.”
“I see.”
“So I called the real estate agent from the charity dinner thing we went to last week. Asked him what was the biggest property he had available that’s still in the heart of the city. Then I checked it out and made the owners an offer. Then I woke Penny up to help rush things.” And then he just looks at me.
“You’ve been busy.”
“Yeah.” He scratches at the stubble on his cheek. “It’d been on the market for a while so we got it at a pretty good price. It’s fully furnished including some artwork and is in a very handy location. The owners had already moved to Hong Kong for business so we can have it right away. Time difference sure came in handy for getting it all sorted.”
“Wow.”
“You already said that,” he adds helpfully. “It’s kind of exciting though, right? Our first real place together? A proper home. Much more adult than living in a hotel.”
“Mm.”
“Anyway, this obviously isn’t my shining moment, what with it being brought on by fear of your mother and all. But I think we should just make the best of things.”
I have nothing.
The fingers tapping against my ass still and he cocks his head. “Matías thought it was a good idea.”
“The soon-to-be divorcé soon-to-be father currently passed out drunk on our sofa thought it was good idea?”
“Yes.” He just watches me for a long moment. “Beloved, say something.”
“How drunk are you?”
“The buzz wore off hours ago.”
“Are you going to regret this decision later when you’re fully sober?” I ask.
“No, I don’t think so.” He flops onto his back, putting his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. “Fuck, I’m tired.”
I sit up, stretching. “Go to sleep.”
“Are you angry at me?”
“No, Beck, I’m not. A little surprised maybe, but not angry.” I crawl down the mattress to tug at his boots. First one, then the other, hit the floor with a thump. Matías better not be a light sleeper. I undo his belt buckle, drawing it out carefully before tossing it too aside. “Do you want your pants on or off?”
His eyelids are closed now. “Whatever.”
I climb off the mattress, heading into the bathroom. In a good and just world, everyone with a hangover would wake to a glass of water and some Advil waiting on their bedside table. It’s only humane. Next, I get back into bed, cuddling up to his side. One of his arms comes around me, hand slipping beneath my T-shirt to rest on my hip. As usual, he slips his fingers under the elastic of my panties. And just leaves them there.
“I’m sorry my mother terrified you into buying property,” I say.
He lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s fine. There’s a small chance I overreacted. But don’t tell anybody else that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Turn in here.”
“This driveway?” I ask.
He nods and I steer my G-Class into a discreet entry for a big old four-story brown brick building. An art gallery, boutiques, and a coffee shop sit either side. It’s only about five blocks away from the Heritage.
Today I dressed for comfort. Plain white leather Gucci sneakers, my secondhand Levi’s, and a loose navy jersey pullover I think was bought in hopes of me taking up yoga or some such. Ha-ha. As if I’d bend at the waist for anybody. No makeup. A pair of silver framed aviator Ray-Bans cover half of my face. If anyone was lying in wait outside the Heritage to take pictures then they can kiss my frazzled ass.
“The code is 21145,” he says. “It was built in 1934 and has been shops and offices and all sorts of things over the years. The owner of the art gallery next door bought it and started renovating it, turning it into a home about eight years back.”
The metal gate rolls up and I head down a steep incline into an underground parking lot half filled with vehicles and a couple of motorcycles. Each and every one of them gleams, polished to perfection. One is the Bugatti from yesterday, but the others are new to me. In the middle are a few empty parking spaces sitting before the silver doors of an elevator. This is where I pull in and turn off the engine.
“Are all of these yours?” I ask.
“Yeah. I had Smith organize to bring them over earlier.”
“Where were they before?”
“At the Heritage in a locked parking area.”
I nod. “That’s a lot of cars.”
“I like things that go vroom. And you.” Once we’re out of the G-Class, Beck does a quick inventory. “The Bugatti Chiron you already know. Followed by the Bentley Flying Spur sedan, and the Bentley Bentayga SUV.”
“A car for every occasion. You like brands that start with the letter B.”
He stuffs his hands in his pants pockets. “Does that make me narcissistic?”
“Not sure. But it does make you a fan of alliteration. I think you have very good taste.”
“Thank you,” he says. “Dad actually had a huge collection of American Muscle. It drove him crazy that I loved the European car makers. But you see the Maserati GT in the corner? He gave me that for my sixteenth birthday. I’d broken my arm skateboarding in New York a couple of months before. Called him from the hospital to tell him, but he never answered. About a week later he had an assistant call to check on me. Rachel lit into him when she found out. The Maserati was mostly my apology, I think. Or him trying to get his ex-wife off his back. Of course, the Escalade behind it was bought for me by Ethan the day after my birthday so I wouldn’t crash my stupid sports car speeding on icy roads and kill myself pretending I was playing a video game. That’s an exact quote from him.”
“That’s sweet.”
“It is,” Beck agrees with a grin. “He’s more bark than bite. Ready to go upstairs?”
“Whenever you are.”
Beck points to a door in the back wall. “Gym, sauna, laundry, storage, and the back staircase are through there.”
“Right.”
And then he presses the elevator call button.
By the time we rose for breakfast some six hours ago, our guest from the sofa had been gone. Beck chugged down the Advil, followed by several cups of coffee, showered and put on a suit, before rushing off to Elliot Corp. for some emergency or other. A meeting with his real estate agent followed. Inspecting our new place had to wait until after lunch. Matías sent a business site over for me to assess so I distracted myself with work. Nice to know his hangover wasn’t too bad.