Page 9 of The Serendipity

Not because I want to watch her walk away.

“It was solovelyto meet you,” she calls over her shoulder in a tone generally reserved for people who club baby seals. “I guess the rumors weren’t far-off after all.”

Rumors?I wonder what she or any other residents could possibly have heard about me. And from whom? The back of my neck heats.

As Willow reaches the top step, a familiar face appears on the stairwell, climbing up. I groan.Oh, the timing.

Bellamy presses himself against the wall to avoid being flattened as Willow stomps past him. His manicured white eyebrows shoot up as he looks from Willow—specifically her bare legs—and back to me. His grin is infuriating.

“Good evening,” he says cheerfully.

Willow grumbles a response but does not pause, her blond head disappearing from view as Bellamy crests the top of the stairs. He’s impeccably dressed, as always, in a gray tailored suit, his white hair slicked back and his grin wide and highly amused. Though he’ll turn fifty-nine this year, I swear, he possesses a youthful energy I’ve never had.

“Looks like I missed more than the grand tour,” he says.

“It was nothing,” I mutter.

“Sure.” He glances back toward the stairs, still smiling. “Already making friends, I see.”

“Hardly.”

“Making enemies?” he suggests as he waltzes into my apartment.

A surprisingly clear mental image of Willow glaring pops up, and I shake my head to clear it. “Enemies would be more accurate.”

I close the door, double-checking the lock and making a mental note to call a locksmith tomorrow.

Bellamy’s assessing gaze turns appreciative, and he lets out a low whistle. “The pictures didn’t do it justice. This building is gorgeous,” he says, then turns away from the windows. It’s now dark, the winking lights of the city offering a comforting view, reminding me of New York. Only … far less bright and noisy.

“The architecture, the details—all of it. And I’m sad I missed out on all the fun.”

My closing of the door is more of a slam. “I wouldn’t call my interaction with that woman—or the guided tour Galentine Valencia gave me—fun.”

I pause by the large marble island, gripping the edge so tightly, my fingers start to tingle. It takes some effort to slow my breathing, and spots dance across my vision, even after I close my eyes. Now, against my dark lids, they’re more like sparks. Tension coils in my chest.

A gentle hand falls between my shoulder blades. “I’m sorry I was delayed,” Bellamy says quietly.

Almost instantly, his voice soothes me. Just the way it always has, from the very first time he found me like this when I was a young boy and he was my father’s assistant, sent to find out why I wasn’t dressed for some event I was being forced to attend. Bellamy had been on the verge of being fired, though neither of us knew that then. The fact that he had been sent looking for me should have been an indication of how things were going for him. I was always lowest on my father’s priority list.

When Bellamy found me sitting in an empty bathtub, he took the time to help calm me down. Which turned out, in some ways, to save us both. My father didn’t fire him, but did give him a new title:myassistant. It was more like glorified nanny, and I’m not sure why Bellamy didn’t take the insult and quit.

But he stayed. He moved from being more of a glorified babysitter to an actual executive assistant and now is the acting CEO of Archway Investments. I’m very involved, but Bellamy runs the day-to-day and lets me pass off a lot of the things I don’t want to do. Like dealing with people.

“I get more done and learn more from people when they think of me as an assistant,” he liked to say. I think he misses itnow that he’s CEO. It’s a little harder to joke about. “You can call me your executiveassassin. Without all the murder, of course.”

I take a slow breath and open my eyes, nodding my thanks to Bellamy, who steps back.

“It’s fine.”

“Youare fine, Archer,” he corrects. “But I wish I’d been here. I know it wasn’t ideal, and I truly am sorry.”

He does know. Probably the only person in the world who knows.

“It’s fine,” I repeat, the words a little more true now than when I said them a moment ago.

I straighten and find a bottle of water on the counter. I didn’t see him pull one out of the otherwise empty fridge, but he must have. He’s resourceful like that. Uncapping the bottle, I swallow most of it down in a few quick gulps.

“I’m also sorry your furniture did not arrive today. I’d hoped for a smoother transition for you all around, though it is nice to see the bones of this place.” Bellamy glances around again. “Truly remarkable. I can see why you took an interest.”

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