Page 10 of Stone

“No.” Nick scowled. “The last few guys she’s dated have been assholes. Nola deserves the best. I want her to find a guy who’ll treat her right, give her love and babies. Luckily, she has a big brother to keep an eye on her.”

“Lucky.” Knox looked out the windshield.

Magnolia Newhouse was definitely not for him.

CHAPTER THREE

Nola’s high heels clicked on the marble floor of the High Line Tower’s lobby. She took a moment to admire the classy décor. It was all done in a soft palette that gave her Scandinavian vibes—whites, grays, with touches of light brown. A large bronze circular artwork hung on the wall.

“Good morning, Ms. Newhouse.”

She spun and smiled at the doorman. “Hello, George.”

“Heard you’re selling one of our penthouses.”

“I sure am.”

“Head on up. Floor 35. The place has amazing views. Bet you won’t have trouble selling it.”

She winked at him. “George, I don’t have trouble selling anything.” With a wave, she headed for the elevators.

She’d had a busy morning and closed a sale on a beautifully renovated brownstone in the West Village. Yay, Nola. She pressed the elevator button.

Now she was going to look at the High Line penthouse. She wanted to make sure the staging was just right. Then she could start planning her marketing material.

She was definitely not thinking about a certain silver fox who’d turned her down.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside, trying not to frown. Knox’s rejection still stung. She’d really liked him. Enough to shove any obstacle out of the way. But clearly, he hadn’t felt the same. He’d shaken her off easily enough once he discovered who her brother was.

She stared at her reflection in the mirrored elevator wall and pulled a face.

Chin up, Nola. At least he was honest with you. He hadn’t jerked her around.

She sighed. She’d appreciate it…eventually.

The elevator slowed and she stepped off. The corridor was lovely, with a side table topped with a vase of fresh flowers. The wood floor was a neutral pale brown, and several large round mirrors hung on the wall. She sniffed the lilies as she walked past.

As she approached the sleek door for the penthouse, she found the key card and swiped it through the door lock.

She stepped inside and did a little wiggle. This was hers to sell. Four bedrooms, four bathrooms in the heart of West Chelsea. Her most prestigious property to date.

The penthouse foyer was nice. The wood floor was laid in a parquet design. The stagers had put a long, low bench against one wall, and a shiny glass table held an elegant vase.

She set her handbag down on the bench, and opened the notes app on her phone. They needed some plants. She made a note.

She moved inside, passing the doorway to the primary suite. She caught a glimpse of the large bed, cream bedding, and lovely, modern armchairs. She’d check that out after.

When she stepped into the great room, she stopped and sucked in a breath. She didn’t take in the curved, cream couches and standing floor lamps. No, all she could see was the view.

This. This would make it a breeze to sell. Sweeping views of the Hudson and the city.

“Brilliant,” she murmured.

She took in the furniture and decorations, and tapped a few more notes into her phone. They needed some rugs. She turned toward the kitchen.

The Calacatta Gold marble of the huge island gleamed. The rest of the space was high-end appliances and custom white cabinetry. The stagers had left a tray with a sleek teapot on one corner of the island, and beside the huge stove were some pretty glass vases. She tapped on her phone and made a note to compliment whoever had done the styling.

She took another step, and that’s when the murmur of low voices caught her ear. She frowned. Men’s voices.

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