Page 35 of Vicious Arrangement
He whines again.
“If, I said.”
We had sex and it… blew my mind. Even now, it sends shudders through me, little ripples of memory that sparks deliciously. And I ache for more.
It’s not going to happen, though. It was a drunken one night wonder and that’s that.
“Pizza?” I ask Angus.
He barks.
Pizza it is.
After all, it might be the very last time.
I holdAngus’s leash as we stand on the pavement outside the two old doors and press the buzzer again.
The doors are cracked white paint, the building one of those cast iron ones that make SoHo SoHo. Historical and protected, if he’s got a balcony, then he must have gone through hoops to have it allowed. Because even though I never went into the world of property development, I know the scant basics. Historical places are hard to get changes done to, especially the façades.
It happens, but it costs.
Then again, what am I saying?
Noah is loaded.
And the kind of loaded asshole who wants more.
I press again when a voice startles me. “Yes?”
Female, and I almost double-check I rang the right one.
“Is this Noah Templeton’s? Floor four?”
“Yes, you are the wife.”
The wife. I grit my teeth. “I’m Aria Sanderson, yes.”
“Go to the elevator, I’ll bring you up here.”
I bite back a sigh and prop the door with my backpack, and then push in my three wheeled cases and wave goodbye to the nicecab driver who carried them to the door for me. He smiles and gives me a thumb’s up, then has his cab filled immediately by two well-heeled people.
Angus behaves and trots in after me. We both pause at the old, worn staircase that needs to be at the very least painted, and the dirty and scuffed postage stamp foyer. But just ahead is the shiny lift, and I press the button. When it opens, I repeat the process of holding it there, and shoving all the cases in, Angus giving it a dubious look.
I have to tug his leash to get him to come into the giant steel box.
Once in, I wait.
And wait.
There are two penthouses, but I assume his is the one with the key slot next to it.
The button lights up, and soon we’re on our way.
We step from the grunge of downstairs and the steel of the box which has its own share of scratches and dings, into a different world.
It’s next-level shit. The floor is expansive, and it is the entire floor the elevator’s in the middle, and it’s open plan making the place bigger. A breeze and the sounds of New York float in through gauzy white curtains that draw Angus’s immediate attention as they flirt and billow, floor to ceiling where it seems the glass wall’s missing.
The elevator has opened into a grand room, complete with a baby grand in the corner, a splash of black in this world of white, chrome and cream. There are designer sofas and chairs and a marble coffee table. To the left is a dining area, formal, separatedby a series of open shelves that let in light and their uneven tops allow the rooms to be both connected and separate.
