Page 38 of Arrogant Bastard

I say nothing. He repeats the process again when we reach the outer foyer, which turns out to be as equally stunning as the apartment. And when we enter the elevator, he removes a key from his pocket and slots it into a panel before hitting the button for the rooftop.

“You had all this done in the last four days?” I ask.

“No. I asked Betty to find me a building with security-paranoid tenants. You’ll be shocked at how many there are in this city. This was the best of the bunch. I only needed to modify a few things.”

The elevator spits us out into a glass enclosure. This time he only needs a code and thumbprint to release the door.

We step out into the mid-afternoon sun. I lift my face to it, close my eyes, and breathe in deep. I feel Killian’s gaze on me, but I don’t look at him when I open my eyes. Instead, I take in my surroundings. It’s beautifully landscaped with tall shrubs, weaving vines, and large boxed plants that have a distinctly unweathered look about them. The soil also has a newly churned smell.

“These are new too?” It’s not really a question. And I have an idea why he’s transformed the rooftop into a lush garden when he smiles and points a finger upward.

Surveillance drones. Satellites. To a normal person, the extra precaution he’s taking by filling the roof space with cover-giving foliage would sound like a tinfoil-hat-wearing kook babbling about conspiracies and Big Brother watching. But I know in our case that it’s all justified. Even more so now with the threat Galveston poses and the possibility that he might have the same image Killian used to find me.

I push thoughts of him away for now. There’ll be time enough to deal with him once Betty locates him. Instead I look around. There’s a brand-new barbecue grill that looks large enough to cater for several large families. A cooler sits on a table next to it. And beneath a row of potted palm trees, low seats with fat white cushions have been arranged around a large center table. The space is huge, much bigger than the one I transformed not too far from here. But they both have the same serenity, which is hard to come by in New York City unless you’re insanely loaded. Suddenly, I’m hit with a bout of unfamiliar nostalgia.

“I have a rooftop just like this.”

He’s trailed me as I wandered through the garden and now stares at me, a touch of surprise in his blue eyes. “Yeah?”

I nod. “At the Punishment Club. It was just an unused space before. I designed it and turned it into a relaxation spot…away from the main club.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this. It’s not like we were ever in that get-to-know-each-other stage or will be anytime soon. We went from forbidden fruit to torrid lovers without pausing to take a breath. Then added the dangerous ingredient of international espionage to the mix right up until it all blew up in our faces. Then I took the only option available to me and ran like hell.

He tucks his hands beneath his arms in that effortlessly manly way that makes his thick biceps flex. It’s all I can do not to stare and salivate like a horny idiot. “I’d like to see it one day,” he says.

I press my lips together because I want to blurt out that I’d love to show it to him.

“So…punishment club?” he asks with raised eyebrows after a pulse of silence.

I jerk out a shrug. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. I just had no idea how much it would take off.”

He nods. “The concept is certainly interesting.”

“Not really. There’s a hell of a lot of guilt going around.”

“And has it helped you?” he asks after another minute passes.

I stiffen a little. “It’s not about me.”

“Why the hell not? You created the place. And you’ve cared about it enough to stick with it for four years.”

“It wasn’t just for me.”

He frowns. “For Axel? So he’s reaping the benefits of all your hard work?”

There’s a pulse of annoyance in his voice that I’m not going to acknowledge. I get the feeling that his irrational jealousy won’t disappear until he sees Axel and Cleo together and witnesses for himself how those two react around each other. Talk about fucking combustible. But I also think about the punishment rooms we reserved for ourselves when we first opened the club.

Axel has a chair and a bank of TV screens.

Mine has a bed and a box with a single photo tucked inside. Sealed four years ago and never opened.

I carefully neutralize my features. Killian was always a master at reading me. The secret in that box is one he doesn’t need to know. Maybe I’m punishing him too the way I’ve been punishing myself by not telling him. But that particular punishment is primarily mine to bear. My secret to keep.

“Axel is not an issue, Killian. Seriously.”

His jaw flexes. “So you keep saying, baby. But I’m having a hard time dealing with the fact that he’s had you for four years.” He stays me with a halting hand when I open my mouth. “Yeah, maybe not sexually, but still. Four years. I barely had you for one. So you have to get why I go a little nuts when you mention him.”

Huh. I never thought of it that way. And the more I think about it now, the more I realize that, had I thought of any woman with Killian in the same way, I probably would be feeling less than ecstatic too. “Well, technically, I didn’t mention him. You did.”

His eyes narrow. Before we disintegrate into another fight, I walk over and drop down into one of the cushy seats. He follows and sits next to me. Above us, the canopy of miniature palm trees shields us from the sky, but enough sunlight filters through to warm my face.

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