Page 135 of Dangerous Men
I’m nervous, I realize, as the building’s doorman ushers us inside and calls the elevator to the top floor for us. Nervous about being alone with Alec. Nervous about this conversation.
Our ride to the top floor is spent in painful silence.
When the doors open again and Alec exits, I follow, wiping my sweaty palms on the fabric of my dress as I tail him down the hallway. We finally slow and come to a stop in front of a corner apartment.
Alec pauses after he unlocks his apartment door, one hand on the doorknob, the other pressed against the wood. He lets out a long breath.
“You’re the first person I’ve ever brought here,” he says. And before I can process that, he opens the door.
49
ALEC
I’ve shown Sydney luxury.I’ve shown her opulence. Up until now, I’ve shown her the very best of what my empire has to offer, in the hopes of winning her heart.
Tonight, I intend to show her something else. Tonight, I want to show her the real me.
I wish I’d cleaned the place better. But I wasn’t lying when I’d told Sydney that she was the first person I’d ever brought here. No one else steps foot inside this room—not my brothers, not our security force, not even the team of cleaners who take care of our compound.
I watch Sydney closely as she sets down her bag and moves through my apartment. It’s large, but still little more than a studio. She starts in the kitchen—a kitchenette, really—just inside the doorway, pausing by the sink. Her fingers brush over the empty coffee cup I left there, waiting to be washed. A newspaper from last month sits next to it, unread. My kitchen table is covered in documents and contracts, pieces of work I’ve brought home with me over the years.
For the first time in a very long time, I’m not sure I’m making the right decision. Maybe I should have trusted Ashton to handle this and waited for him to talk to her first. She’s calm around him. Relaxed. Maybe I should have stayed away and let my brother fix this.
But I couldn’t. If someone is going to set this right, I need it to be me. And if she decides this is too much, if she decides mybrothersare too much?
I need to be the one she chooses.
My bedroom is little more than a queen-sized bed, just beyond the kitchenette. When Sydney reaches it, her fingers trail over the dark gray bedspread before her attention shifts to the windows.
The curtains are drawn and thick enough to keep out any light. I’ve been told the view here is as breathtaking as any of my penthouses, but I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen it. I keep the curtains closed, always.
This is where I come when I need to be alone. When I don’t want to be reminded of the legacy I’ve built with blood and sweat and terror.
“What do you think?” I ask. I want her to like it. Simple and bare as it is, I need her to like it.
“It’s not what I expected,” Sydney answers. She runs her fingers over the curtain. For a moment, it looks like she might open them, and my heart skips a beat in my chest. But then her hand falls, and the curtains remain closed.
There’s still blood, dried and flaking, on her knuckles. I don’t believe for a second she cut herself on some glass.
Maybe she fought back against Viper. It’s my fault that no one warned her what a terrible idea that would be.
“It’s nice,” she says, giving me a small smile. A smile so at odds with the blood on her hands. “Your other rooms are so, I don’t know. Expensive?” She gives a self-conscious laugh. “Iguess I expected gold paint, and a flat screen TV. But this is nice. Simple.”
It warms something in my chest to hear her say it. I don’t tell her this “simple” studio would sell for more than half a million dollars, if I ever got rid of it.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say. “This place is important to me. I come here when I need to be alone.”
Sydney’s soft lips purse. “Does that happen often?”
I lean against the wall by the door and consider how to answer. “More and more lately,” I say. “I love my brothers, I do. But you know now how… overwhelming, they can be. Sometimes I need my own space. Away from them. From that life.”
A small line forms between Sydney’s brows. “Sounds lonely,” she says.
“It is,” I admit. “But I’ve been lonely for a very long time, darling. Longer than I can remember. And I don’t think I realized how lonely I truly was until I met you.”
She tenses at those words, shifting under the weight of them. The distance between us is suffocating me. I want to hold her. I want to touch her.
I need her in a way that I’ve never needed anything before.
