Page 43 of Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

She thought about what he had said. How he valued his space.

“Is this just you maintaining control of an entire building?”

He looked at her. “It does not make sense to continue to do it always.”

“Right.”

The doors opened, and there was a small entryway, and another door that required another code.

When they were inside, her jaw dropped. The space was expansive. And there was nothing in it beyond the necessary. The kitchen was black. The floors were black and glossy, the cabinets a glossy black as well. The countertops made of graphite-colored concrete. It was opulent in a way, but also spare. The materials themselves provided the cues of luxury. The couch that stretched across the living area was black, like everything, starkly shaped. And the view of the city below was stunning. It was beginning to get dark, and the lights glowed bright from the cars, the buildings, street signs and neon advertisements.

“It’s strange to me,” she said, “that you prize this level of spareness quite so much, and control, and yet you live in a city that is so... Loud. And cluttered.”

He laughed. “I suppose so. And yet, it allows me to keep nothing. If I want something, I go out and get it at a moment’s notice. There is no need to hoard when the world is at your fingertips.”

“Considering that you’re a billionaire I rather thought that you had the ability to do that even if you lived on a mountaintop.”

“Perhaps. Although it would be inefficient.”

“Ah. Efficiency.”

“Come,” he said. “I will show you to your room.”

Her room.

“We won’t share a room?”

She didn’t know why, but the look on his face made her laugh. Well, she did know why. The stark horror there was just too funny. If a little bit insulting. “No,” he said. “I prize my space.”

“Right.”

“We have an event tonight,” he said.

“Tonight?” she asked, shocked.

“Yes. A charity event. There is a red dress in your closet. I want for you to wear that.”

“You even get to choose what I wear.”

“Did you want to stand there and dither over which thing to choose? Did you wish to wonder what might be appropriate?”

No. Dammit. The annoying thing was, she didn’t want that. And it was helpful that he told her what she should wear.

“How long do I have to get ready?”

She would not validate him by indicating that she was grateful he had given her direction on her outfit.

“You have an hour and a half.”

He opened the door to her bedroom, and clearly indicated she was to go inside. She did, and saw that her room was much the same as all the others, Spartan and spare. One wall was a window in its entirety. She stood there, feeling tiny and remote as she looked out over the city.

She took her phone out of her pocket, and FaceTimed Melody.

“I have a strange story to tell you,” she said.

“What?” Melody asked.

She took her phone and turned it so that her friend could see the scene below.

---