Page 9 of Salvage Him
Three
Brooklyn
We wastedno time tearing the old house down and constructing its replacement. I threw myself into designing the interior. Since graduating from design school, I'd yet to design anything. The places we had lived in the past came fully furnished. I'd add my touch, but with our new house, I got to start fromscratch.
As far as the exterior of the house was concerned, Paul had some ideas, but we neededexperthelp.
We had gathered in a small conference room at Fitzgerald & Kennedy Architecture. It was the third meeting with Justin Fitzgerald, the owner and creative man atF&K.
We had agreed on the basic structure of the new house, but we couldn't move forward until we finalized all thedetails.
We stood over the large dark wood conference table. I spun the model and lifted the roof off the guesthouse. I hoped to finish the construction on it first so we could move out of theclinic.
That's what I refer to the stark white apartment Paul moved us into. It was located in the White Cielo Building,cieloas in the Spanish word for heaven. It rivaled any upscale high-rise inManhattan.
I couldn't help cringing at the thought that I lived in white heaven. Everyone in the building was sweet and hospitable, but the irony of the name wasn't lost on this little black girl from Brooklyn,NewYork.
And now, we were moving from white heaven towhite...
"I want it to be white,"Paulsaid.
"The white is going to stand out so much from the rest of the neighborhood,"Isaid.
"What's wrong with that?" Paulasked.
"Pretentious," Ianswered.
"It's not pretentious. It's elegant." Paul placed his cold, clammy hand on my forearm. "I know you may not know the difference, but believe me, it will beperfect."
I frowned and looked over at Justin. If he heard Paul's subtle insult, it didn't register onhisface.
Justin was a controlled individual, even toned and calm. A direct contradiction to his platinum blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Maybe his look was part of his demeanor. I had been around guys like him before, and I instantly liked him. We shared the same taste in design and aesthetics, but something else drew metohim.
I looked at the model again. The house was huge, too huge for two people. I counted the bedrooms, all seven of them. I counted the bathrooms—eight and a half counting the one in the pool area. I shook my head, and my gaze fell on the master suite. It was two stories. We had stairs in our bedroom, another one of Paul's greatideas.
He wanted to recreate the loft we had spent a week at in Switzerland. It had a main room and then a loft with a skylight overthebed.
It was romantic when you were on vacation. Waking up basking in sunlight at six a.m. would get real old quick. I predicted it would be covered up withinaweek.
"I want a tall fence made of white stone. I want it to look like a modern castle," Paul continued on his whitehouserant.
I cut my eyes but closed mymouth.
Justin nodded and gave me aslygrin.
"Fine." I pushed my hair back. "Whatever you want. You take care of the outside of thehouse."
"That's right, baby." Paul grabbed my hand. He squeezed it tight, but then brought it up to his lips andkissedit.
I concentrated on not flinching from his show of possessiveness and affection. Paul didn't usually exhibit either unless he was in front of other men . . . basically when he needed to exert his inner alpha male. "You can take care of the interior." He kissed my handagain.
I nodded and walked out oftheroom.
I trusted Justin would keep Paul in line. Why I trusted him, I hadnoidea.
I strolled into the lobby. Fitzgerald & Kennedy's offices were done in white and black, an understated and tasteful modern design with a comfortable vibe. It was a perfect extension of their personalities. Justin and his partner, Seth, gave us a tour when wefirstmet.
Justin, at six-foot-three, toweredoverPaul.
