Page 106 of Wicked Proposal
Yulian throws me an amused look. The kind of look that melts ice and makes knees go weak. “My place.”
Then he climbs into the car and shuts the door.
33
MIA
My jaw drops. “Youlivehere?”
Yulian’s gaze flicks disinterestedly to the humongous skyscraper towering over us. “Yes.”
“This is your company,” I point out. “It says so right there.”
He follows my line of sight to the giantStarTech, Inc.neon sign. “Acute observation.”
“How can you live in your own company building?” I gesture wildly to the suits walking in and out of the revolving security doors. Behind me, a camera flashes, probably to capture the magnetic silhouette of Mr. Most-Eligible-Bachelor. “You’ve got employees here! And paparazzi at the door!”
“It’s more convenient this way. Also, paparazzi are for movie stars.” His gaze flicks to the direction the flash came from. “That’s probably just a photographer sent to cover the event.”
Right. The event we’re supposed to be at.Guilt pricks me, but not for long. I’m way too distracted for that.
“I mean, I get it, your work is your life, but this is too much,” I say. “It’s like if I hunkered down in the morgue. Gwen would chase me out of there with a broom.”
“Then it’s a good thing no one can chase me out of my own building.” He pulls out a black key card, shiny and sleek, then leans in. “And we’re definitely not going down.”
The way he says it makes me weak in all the wrong ways.
Stop thinking about it, Mia!I scold myself all the way to the elevator.It was one time. It’s over. He’s been abundantly clear on that. Where’s your goddamn self-respect?!
Probably somewhere under those sheets at the Goldenrod.
The doors close. Yulian presses a gold button at the very top, with the letterPon it. Private? Penthouse? Pad for fucking while clocked-in?
“Make yourself at home.”
The second those doors slide open, my jaw falls.
Hot.
Fucking.
Damn.
It’s like those interior decor catalogs you flip at the pricey dentist’s office. The ones you cut out and make mood boards with as a teenager, way before the financial reality of the world has set in, thinking dreamily to yourself,One day, I’ll live here.
Except that hedoeslive here. Yulian’s lifeisactually that catalog.
Pick up your jaw, Mia. No floor is that clean.
And yet, as I wander around the penthouse wide-eyed, like a kid’s first trip to Coney Island, I realize I could probably eat off the furniture here.
It’s like Yulian barely lives here at all. Like nothing’s been touched since it was set into place.
And what a place it is.
Marble floors. Leather couches. Countertops so shiny I can see my reflection in them. A whole wall that’s made up entirely of glass, the city of Manhattan spread out like an ever-changing postcard.
It’s like Batman and Christian Grey somehow fell in love, got shotgun married in Vegas, and merged their assets to buy this.
