Guns: The Spencer Book
Page 25
I wait for some sort of direction, but he waits too. “Well?” I finally ask. “You want me to live in the garage or what? Let’s get this show on the road.”
He waves me forward, then a beep sounds as the lock disengages and the doors to the lower-level lobby open. It’s pretty nice in here. Couple couches off to the side. Nice tiles on the floor, a rug. The elevator dings and we both enter and watch the doors close behind us.
“This is weird,” I say, mostly to myself, but also to the stranger who now has me alone inside an elevator.
“Apparently not weird enough to stop you from taking this ride,” he quips.
“No, not that weird.” I look up at him and I’m about to elaborate but the elevator stops and the doors ding out a request to exit. “Well, that was quick, at least.”
“It’s the second floor. I’m sorry, that’s all I have available besides the penthouse. But at least it’s not the ground floor. I’m sure you’d feel safer on the second story.”
I say nothing to that. I’m not worried about being attacked. I mean, yeah, it could happen. And I’m a girl, so most men are a lot stronger than me. But I’m not just any girl. I’m Veronica Vaughn. I’ve been fighting boys my whole life. And maybe being alone with this guy is a bad move, but a whole shitload of people saw me leave my apartment with him. He says he’s the owner of my building that is temporarily condemned for asbestos removal. I have no red flashing lights for this, so I’m gonna ride it out.
He stops at a door, pushes a key in, then opens it wide so I can enter. I do.
He flips on the lights as he enters behind me and I walk forward into a stunning apartment. “It’s furnished?”
“This is the model for this complex. All the units are sold, save for the penthouse. So it’s no longer being used. It hasn’t been listed yet, so I’ll hold off on selling until you figure out what to do.”
“What to do? I’m not sure I follow. I get to go home once that whole removal thing is over and come up with an alternative place to live, right?”
He smiles one of those indulgent smiles people save for idiots and my blood boils. “No, I’m sorry. We’re going to remodel the entire building. Your apartment was not for rent, but the landlord”—he practically seethes that word—“rented you the apartment, took your money, and ran off with it. It was a mistake. So you’ll have to find other accommodations immediately.” He pauses to assess my reaction, but I hold it in. “But feel free to stay here as long as you need to.”
I’m just silent. What do I say? Thank you for kicking me out of my place?
He drops the keys on the table near the door. “Well, let me know if you require anything—”
“But… my clothes? My stuff? When can I get my stuff?”
That stupid indulgent smile is back. “We’ll have to see how the decontamination goes.”
My jaw drops. “What? But… I have, like nothing. No clothes, no—” I stop complaining because he’s thrusting a credit card at me.
“It’s prepaid, one thousand dollars. I’m sorry, Miss Vaughn. But I really need to go and take care of the penthouse. We’re having an open house tomorrow and that coordinator is about as efficient and trustworthy as Mr. Golden, I’m afraid.”
And just like that he turns to leave.
“But wait—” Holy hell, Ronnie, get a grip. He’s gonna think you’re some pathetic loser who wants to jump his bones if you keep stopping him from leaving. “My boss is in the market for a place. I’m not sure if he wants to buy or rent, but I need to show him a place today. Maybe I could just take him up there and you can show him around?”
“Now?” he asks, like this is the most stupid request he’s ever heard. “I’m afraid I have pressing matters that require my attention. But I will instruct the doorman in the main lobby to give you access if you bring him by tonight. Otherwise he can look during the open house tomorrow like everyone else.”
And then he walks out.
What the f**k just happened?
I live here?
I twirl around and take it all in. It’s really beautiful. Maybe more beautiful than Rook and Ronin’s apartment down in Denver. There’s an L-shaped beige couch complete with a myriad of throw pillows along one wall. A giant TV. Not like those paper ones they put up in furniture stores. It’s real. There’s a pretty coffee table complete with magazines and large colorful expensive-looking books.
I walk over to the French doors and peer out over the large square balcony. It’s only the second floor, so I have a view of some trees. They don’t have leaves yet, but they might in a few weeks.
Will I still be here by then? I’m confused.
I walk down the hallway peering into the first bedroom. It’s decorated as an office. It even has a computer. Real, like the TV. There’s a bathroom across the hall. Just a regular one with a tub and stuff. But then I turn left and walk on until I come to the master bedroom.
I don’t gasp, I laugh. Because holy shit! It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. King bed, large dark wood dressers, another huge TV, and an en suite bathroom that has a large oval jetted tub and a separate glass shower.
My phone buzzes in my pack that’s still slung over my shoulder and I fish through it, hoping it’s Rook calling so I can tell her about this amazing turn of events.
It’s Spencer. But I need to talk to him anyway, so I press his face. “Hey, I was just gonna call you with that appointment.”
He waves me forward, then a beep sounds as the lock disengages and the doors to the lower-level lobby open. It’s pretty nice in here. Couple couches off to the side. Nice tiles on the floor, a rug. The elevator dings and we both enter and watch the doors close behind us.
“This is weird,” I say, mostly to myself, but also to the stranger who now has me alone inside an elevator.
“Apparently not weird enough to stop you from taking this ride,” he quips.
“No, not that weird.” I look up at him and I’m about to elaborate but the elevator stops and the doors ding out a request to exit. “Well, that was quick, at least.”
“It’s the second floor. I’m sorry, that’s all I have available besides the penthouse. But at least it’s not the ground floor. I’m sure you’d feel safer on the second story.”
I say nothing to that. I’m not worried about being attacked. I mean, yeah, it could happen. And I’m a girl, so most men are a lot stronger than me. But I’m not just any girl. I’m Veronica Vaughn. I’ve been fighting boys my whole life. And maybe being alone with this guy is a bad move, but a whole shitload of people saw me leave my apartment with him. He says he’s the owner of my building that is temporarily condemned for asbestos removal. I have no red flashing lights for this, so I’m gonna ride it out.
He stops at a door, pushes a key in, then opens it wide so I can enter. I do.
He flips on the lights as he enters behind me and I walk forward into a stunning apartment. “It’s furnished?”
“This is the model for this complex. All the units are sold, save for the penthouse. So it’s no longer being used. It hasn’t been listed yet, so I’ll hold off on selling until you figure out what to do.”
“What to do? I’m not sure I follow. I get to go home once that whole removal thing is over and come up with an alternative place to live, right?”
He smiles one of those indulgent smiles people save for idiots and my blood boils. “No, I’m sorry. We’re going to remodel the entire building. Your apartment was not for rent, but the landlord”—he practically seethes that word—“rented you the apartment, took your money, and ran off with it. It was a mistake. So you’ll have to find other accommodations immediately.” He pauses to assess my reaction, but I hold it in. “But feel free to stay here as long as you need to.”
I’m just silent. What do I say? Thank you for kicking me out of my place?
He drops the keys on the table near the door. “Well, let me know if you require anything—”
“But… my clothes? My stuff? When can I get my stuff?”
That stupid indulgent smile is back. “We’ll have to see how the decontamination goes.”
My jaw drops. “What? But… I have, like nothing. No clothes, no—” I stop complaining because he’s thrusting a credit card at me.
“It’s prepaid, one thousand dollars. I’m sorry, Miss Vaughn. But I really need to go and take care of the penthouse. We’re having an open house tomorrow and that coordinator is about as efficient and trustworthy as Mr. Golden, I’m afraid.”
And just like that he turns to leave.
“But wait—” Holy hell, Ronnie, get a grip. He’s gonna think you’re some pathetic loser who wants to jump his bones if you keep stopping him from leaving. “My boss is in the market for a place. I’m not sure if he wants to buy or rent, but I need to show him a place today. Maybe I could just take him up there and you can show him around?”
“Now?” he asks, like this is the most stupid request he’s ever heard. “I’m afraid I have pressing matters that require my attention. But I will instruct the doorman in the main lobby to give you access if you bring him by tonight. Otherwise he can look during the open house tomorrow like everyone else.”
And then he walks out.
What the f**k just happened?
I live here?
I twirl around and take it all in. It’s really beautiful. Maybe more beautiful than Rook and Ronin’s apartment down in Denver. There’s an L-shaped beige couch complete with a myriad of throw pillows along one wall. A giant TV. Not like those paper ones they put up in furniture stores. It’s real. There’s a pretty coffee table complete with magazines and large colorful expensive-looking books.
I walk over to the French doors and peer out over the large square balcony. It’s only the second floor, so I have a view of some trees. They don’t have leaves yet, but they might in a few weeks.
Will I still be here by then? I’m confused.
I walk down the hallway peering into the first bedroom. It’s decorated as an office. It even has a computer. Real, like the TV. There’s a bathroom across the hall. Just a regular one with a tub and stuff. But then I turn left and walk on until I come to the master bedroom.
I don’t gasp, I laugh. Because holy shit! It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. King bed, large dark wood dressers, another huge TV, and an en suite bathroom that has a large oval jetted tub and a separate glass shower.
My phone buzzes in my pack that’s still slung over my shoulder and I fish through it, hoping it’s Rook calling so I can tell her about this amazing turn of events.
It’s Spencer. But I need to talk to him anyway, so I press his face. “Hey, I was just gonna call you with that appointment.”
