Tessa and Rebecca are waiting for me outside my new temporary home. The Charon Group’s building is impressive, I’ll admit. Occupying a prime corner lot overlooking Central Park, it has envious views of the park and the Plaza Hotel. I just need the Bird Lady and a couple of Wet Bandits to bring a certain movie to life.
As long as the orange man doesn’t make an appearance, I’ll be fine.
Eric and Nate set my things at the door and scurry off to their apartment. I don’t blame them, I’m more temperamental than usual today—and that’s saying a lot. The drive over here wasn’t long, but judging by how fast they’re disappearing, I’m guessing it was ten minutes too long.
“Hey, Dutch!” Tessa beams, swinging a keychain from her fingers. “Ready to see your apartment?”
Her enthusiasm can be a bit much sometimes, and I have to remind myself she’s only eighteen. Okay, nearly nineteen, but still. She’s the youngest out of all of us, and it shows. I nod and she hands the keys over.
“Oh, guess what? Ryan keeps a VIP apartment on this floor. He gave it to The Duke! Even though there are extra apartments still empty.” She jabs me in the side. “You should see how he looks at her, he’s got it bad. And she just ignores him. I wanna be her someday.”
I chuckle back, agreeing with her, although I swallow down a stab of disappointment. When I first met the Charon Group in London, I was immediately attracted to the three stunning men. I was even hopeful that my dry spell might be coming to an end. But I later found out that Jase and Kian are a couple—my observational skills must have been sorely lacking—when I walked past their room and heard very enthusiastic fucking coming from it.
I entertained a few fantasies about Ryan here and there, although it always felt a little off. Whenever I got the vibrators out and pictured Ryan, my mind would erase him and overlay a picture of Cruz instead.
But Cruz is long gone. It’s been well over a year since he disappeared, and I’m sure he’s off in some non-extradition country by now, living it up. I need to stop thinking about him and move the fuck on.
I push away thoughts of men and turn my attention back to Tessa and Rebecca. “Well, I’m glad he didn’t save the VIP for me!” I say with a laugh as I unlock the door. “I’m hardly the fancy type.” That’s true enough—I’d much rather be in jeans and boots, necking a beer in a dive bar than be dressed up to the nines drinking champagne in some hoity-toity five-star hotel.
Besides, heels are a bitch to walk in, and even looking at a dress gives me hives. Ew.
Tessa pushes ahead of me, swirling around as she takes in the apartment, while Rebecca brings up the rear. I stop short as I look around the space. It’s open-plan—a large gourmet kitchen sporting deep gray cupboards with marble countertops and tiles sits to the left-hand side of the room. Black leather bar stools line the large island, while industrial lights hang overhead. To the right lies a table big enough to seat twelve, its burnt wood and hammered copper top created to be a visually stunning work of art. Floor-to-ceiling windows line one wall, overlooking the park and skyline which must be an incredible view at night.
The living area boasts no less than three black leather couches, the leather smooth and supple under my fingertips. One wall is made all of brick, covered floor to ceiling in graffiti artwork. Abstract art hangs on other walls, the space as a whole gives off a darker, edgy feel that makes me fall in love with it immediately.
“Fuck me,” I breathe, my eyes wide. “If this is a normal apartment, what the fuck do the VIP ones look like?”
“Right?” Rebecca says. “Trey and I were surprised too. Neither of us is used to staying in something this nice.”
She wanders over to Tessa who is at the window, admiring the view. Deciding to check out the rest, I kick off my boots then head down the hallway where the bedrooms are. The guest bedroom is a decent size with a queen-sized bed, small en suite bathroom, closet, and dresser.
When I get to the master bedroom, I come to a halt in the doorway as I look around. The room is fit for a queen, with a king-sized bed that takes up most of one wall, while a love seat is placed strategically under the window, perfect for watching the city. Walking into the room, I feel a little overwhelmed by the opulence. I run my hands over the high thread count sheets and sumptuous dark-gray throw blanket tossed decoratively over the top as my feet sink into the deep pile of the carpet. At least ten pillows are piled along the eight-foot-high headboard, while bedside tables and crystal lamps decorate both sides of it. A large screen TV is mounted on the wall opposite, while a walk-in closet boasts more than enough space to house a small department store.
Rounding the bed, I open another door to find an en suite, just as luxurious as the rest of the room. Two sinks line one wall, while a Jacuzzi bathtub big enough for three rests along another. A shower with four showerheads at various points completes the room, while a toilet is hidden behind a half-wall.
Swallowing hard and feeling very out of place with my ripped jeans and scuffed boots, I come back into the bedroom, only to find Tessa and Rebecca sitting on the love seat. “So, do you like it?” Tessa asks, beaming at me.
“What’s not to love?” Truly, it’s a stunning apartment, and some of my earlier anger at being forced to come here dissipates. My apartment is the Holiday Inn, while this one is the Plaza.
Tessa changes the subject. “Do you know what we need? A girls’ night. Just the three of us. We didn’t get to celebrate our win in London, and we need to.”
I arch a brow at her. “We missed my father, it wasn’t a win.”
In tandem, Rebecca and Tessa fold their arms and glare at me. Fuck, they’re like those creepy twins from that one horror movie. “We still killed all those people! Think how many women and children we saved. Jesus, Dutch, you need to lighten up. Have a drink or two. Maybe ten. Dance it out.”
“Who are we? Meredith and Cristina?”
Tessa cackles. “Well, if we are, I’m Meredith. I got McSteamyandMcDreamy.”
“Fuck off.” She grins back at me, and we walk back to the living room, making plans for our night. Apparently, we’re going to have it in my apartment since I’m the only single one.
Tessa might have McSteamy and McDreamy, but it sounds like she might need a little break from them. Not that I can blame her. Poor girl is surrounded by way too much testosterone.
You could do with some testosterone.
Shut up. I’ve got my toys, they’re more than enough.Keep telling yourself that.
Chapter 11
