Page 16 of A Temporary Forever

I hang up, and before I can question my sanity, easily push the door open. What the fuck? Why does she live in such an insecure building?

The tiny foyer welcomes me with an odor of mildew and an obnoxious vanilla scent. The hallway is dark, with a narrow staircase leading up on my right hand side, and an equally narrow corridor along its side.

Half of the mailboxes are broken, barely hangingon the wall with chipped paint. No woman—no human—should live in these conditions.

And where do I go now? I pull out my phone, hoping the address Saar texted me shows the unit number. Why isn’t there a reception or a concierge here?

I find the unit on the ground floor. Thank God I don’t have to walk upstairs. Not only because my quads still scream from my unofficial match with Xander, but because those stairs for sure fail all the codes.

Celeste’s apartment is at the end of the gloomy corridor of carpeted floors and generic gray doors.

I knock with more enthusiasm than I feel. Probably best to just get this over with.

The door creaks open, and Celeste sticks her head out, hiding behind the door.

“What are you doing here?” she accuses.

Is she for real? I should turn around and go about my life. I don’t have to save every victim of my father’s lack of morals. Though based on this building, this candidate might need it.

I squint at the light seeping from behind her through the opening. “Are you kidding me?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Again, what areyoudoing here?” She doesn’t fully open the door, eying me with suspicion.

“Again, are you kidding me?”

She widens her eyes and gapes with disbelief. And, perhaps, a dash of disdain.

“Look, Celeste, you need my help, not the other way around.” I rub my forehead. This hasn’t even started, and I already have a headache.

I briefly mourn the moments before lunch yesterday when I thought I had nothing to do and nowhere to be.

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Saar sent you.”

It’s not a question, it’s a realization. Fucking Saar. It’s a good thing she would be on her way to the airport before I could get to her. Better for her general well-being. Because even my love for my sister has its limits.

A war wages behind Celeste’s eyes, and then she steps back and widens the door’s opening.

The long silky green robe she’s wearing is tied fast with a sash, but the two sides still fall apart, giving me a better look at her cleavage than I want.

Or rather than I should have if I’m to leave this place with my balls still attached.

The emerald-green fabric matches her eyes. How can a woman dressed in a skimpy robe look so elegant? And why the fuck am I noticing?

I step inside and stop. For two reasons. There is nowhere to go, but I’m also shocked by the place.

It’s smaller than my closet. She has a bed, a rack onwheels with her clothes, and a sorry excuse for a kitchen.

That’s all. It’s clean and nicely decorated—if that can be claimed of a bed-only room—but it’s minuscule.

“Is this your place?”

Instead of answering, she raises her eyebrows.

“You renting it?”

There’s a decent person somewhere inside me—less snobby and more compassionate—but for some reason, it plays hooky today. Or anytime I’m around this woman.

“I own it.”

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