Page 32 of Defend Me

As we start to descend, he turns to me with a grin. “This is pretty cool.”

“Has Caden never taken you to the city in the chopper before?” I ask.

Noah rolls his eyes. “I take the train. Like a normal person.”

When we land at the helipad, a car is waiting to take us to my apartment. Noah’s face begins to lapse back into worry as we drive down the FDR and loop around the bottom of Manhattan to get to the west side.

I try and think of something nice to say. “I live in Soho.”

He blinks at me. “Okay.”

I was only trying to reassure him he’ll be staying in a good neighborhood. But clearly, comfort isn’t my forte.

I turn and stare out the window for the rest of the ride.

When we get to my building, the doorman hurries up to open the car door for me.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Everton,” he says.

I give him a nod like I always do and walk past him only to turn and see Noah freaking introducinghimself.

“Hi, I’m Noah,” he says, offering his hand. The doorman looks surprised for a moment then shakes.

“Benito.” Huh. I never knew his name. “Welcome, sir. Can I take your bag for you?”

“I’ve got it, thanks.” Noah hikes his duffel on his shoulder and stares up at the huge, cream-colored building on a cobblestone street. Decorative molding lines the windows, and there’s a spacious lobby decorated with modern art. “This is where you live?” he says.

“Yes,” I reply.

“Huh.”

“Not what you were expecting?”

“No. I guess I imagined an island in the shape of a skull or something.”

I give him my most exasperated look. “I’m not a Disney villain.”

Another grin pulls at his lips. “Whatever you say, Maleficent.”

I shake my head and walk into the lobby. The other doorman is behind the desk and nods to me as I pass. Noah scampers up to him and yep, there he goes introducing himself again.

“Hi, I’m Noah,” he says, extending his hand over the desk.

This doorman looks as surprised as Benito. I press the button for the elevator.

“Sam,” the doorman replies, shaking Noah’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Noah says as the elevator doors open.

“Are you coming?” I ask.

Noah rushes over and steps inside. “Is this teak?” he says, examining the wood paneling.

“I have no idea,” I say, taking out my key to unlock the button to the penthouse. “Stop introducing yourself. The doormen don’t care who you are.”

He cocks his head. “You didn’t know their names, did you.”

I feel flustered and try not to show it. “They work here. They aren’t my friends.”

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