Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“I appreciate the sentiment behind it, and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.” I blow out a breath and deflate a little. “I’m just…”
“Nervous?” he supplies.
“I don’t enjoy curveballs.”
“I know. Which is why I predicted that you wouldn’t agree to this meeting even if I’d given you fair warning. I decided to take my chances and risk a little of your wrath, which, if I’m going to be completely honest, I actually don’t mind being on the receiving end of.” He grins.
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You’re too much.”
“Better than being not enough, I suppose.” There’s something in his tone, a hint of vulnerability, maybe.
We arrive in New York in the early evening. We’re met by yet another car and immediately whisked off. I wish I could do something with my hands to keep them busy, but instead, I clasp them tightly in my lap and try not to think too much about what tonight will bring. If Jackson has shown me anything, it’s that he’s full of surprises.
“Is everything okay?” Jackson asks.
“Of course, why?”
“Because I asked you if you’re hungry and you made a noise that sounded like a yes, but when I offered you options, all you did was make the same sound.”
“I’m sorry.” And embarrassed. “I’m just a little nervous about this meeting. Normally I’ll review my notes about the company before I meet with a potential sponsor, and I haven’t been able to do that because I don’t know who they are.”
“You won’t need your notes for this, but you’ll have a bit of time to look them over when we get to my apartment.”
“Right. Okay.” I want to ask if we’re stopping there, or staying there, but I don’t want to sound ungrateful for this opportunity. One he’s gone to a lot of trouble to secure. “It makes sense that we’d go to your place here since New York is your home.” I might as well put on a Captain Obvious cape and call it a day.
We pull into the underground parking lot, and once again, the driver opens the door for me. Jackson’s suitcase appears, as does mine, and we head toward the elevators. They’re emblazoned with the Mills Hotel logo. Not only do they run some of the most opulent and beautiful hotels in the world, they also own some of the most gorgeous high-end apartments.
My heart is in my throat, and I can feel heat creeping up my spine as we step into the elevator. I’m not sure why I’m this nervous. I’ve spent lots of time with Jackson over the past few weeks. Enough that I feel as though we’re forming some kind of friendship along with our working relationship. My stomach dips when we reach the penthouse floor and the doors slide open, revealing a high-ceilinged hallway with several doors. The two directly in front of us are labeled with Penthouse A and Apartment B. Jackson heads for the penthouse and I follow. He opens the door by pressing his thumb to the sensor pad and ushers me inside.
The floors are pale gray and polished to a shine. The walls are stark white, and every accent is navy or dark wood. It’s stunning and minimalist, and looks more like a model home than that anyone lives here.
“This is beautiful.”
“I’ve been told it lacks personality.”
I laugh. “It’s clutter-free. Which I can appreciate. Harley is a human hurricane and leaves stuff pretty much everywhere.”
“You’re kind. And a bit of a liar, which I also appreciate.” He smiles and unbuttons his suit jacket.
My stomach flutters. I wish I weren’t so affected by him. It would be a lot easier to maintain my composure and keep my head out of the clouds and on my shoulders where it’s supposed to be. “I’m not lying. I do think it’s beautiful, and I can appreciate minimalism. How often do you stay here?”
He shrugs out of his suit jacket and tosses it over the arm of a chair. I wonder if it will still be there when we come through this room again, or whether one of the people who works for him will make it disappear.
“Maybe a week a month. I don’t see the point in adding clutter when I’m not here that often, but I realize that most of the space is impersonal.” He checks his watch. “Dinner isn’t for an hour yet. Would you like a tour?”
“Sure. That would be great.” I’ll take any opportunity to dig a little deeper and find out more about the man behind the suits and the worn jeans and old T-shirts.
He walks me through the living room, which is cavernous. One wall is floor-to-ceiling windows with a stunning view of the city, and in the distance is Brooklyn. In the center of the huge room is a white couch, a table, and chairs. All pristine, boxy, and minimalist.