Page 149 of Sinful Hearts

“What, so she can spy on me?”

He grins, shaking his head. “Nah, it doesn’t work like that. But if you’re ever in trouble, or you feel unsafe…” His jaw tenses. “Push it. My younger sister is twenty, and I’ve got one on her keys, too.”

Nora nods, eying the little fob a little less skeptically. “Cool. Thanks.”

I glance at him, a smile curving my lips.

“Thanks,” I mouth.

* * *

My jaw dropsas the Camaro comes to a stop outside of astunningbrownstone on an idyllic street in Brooklyn Heights, across the East River from lower Manhattan.

“Wait—this is you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He pushes a button on the dash and then guides the car down a sloped driveway that leads under the brownstone to a garage with an automatic door. We park inside next to a couple of other gorgeous cars; some, old classics and others gleaming new performance roadsters. Nora whistles.

“Wow, are all the tenants of this building rich car nuts?”

“You could say that.”

I stop him with a look. “Arethere other tenants?”

Hades waggles his brows, saying nothing as he carries our bags to an elevator, which we all pile into.

“I still haven’t redone the first three floors.”

Nora sputters. “Wait, you own thewholebuilding? And all those cars down there?”

When he nods, she turns and elbows me in the side. Hard.

“Nice,” she winks.

I roll my eyes.

The doors open on the fourth floor, and Nora and I just about trip over our tongues.

Holy.Shit.

The place isstunning, and honestly? It’s not at all what I would have pictured the lair of the infamous Hades Drakos looking like. I imagined a BDSM dungeon, or some other kind of subterranean cave. Or maybe a frat-house type place outfitted in total bachelor-pad bullshit, like a tacky Sharper Image store.

Boy, was I wrong.

Almost the entire top floor of the brownstone has been converted into one big open loft space. Gorgeous exposed-brick walls, huge windows, and wooden beams and ceiling rafters have my jaw on the floor as I stare in awe.

The furniture is old, weathered farmhouse style wood and deeply tanned leather. And the walls…holy shit.The whole length of the place on one side is nothing but floor-to-ceiling wooden bookshelves. And they’refilledwith books—the same books I used to mock as some sort of “date bait” on his Instagram.

At the back of the loft space, an enormous kitchen area is framed by a back wall made entirely of black iron and glass, with matching doors that lead out to a lush, plant-filled patio.

“Dude, this place isinsaaaaane!” Nora breathes, walking around with her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

“I…didn’t imagine you having books.”

“Idoknow how to read, as shocking as that may be.”

I grin. So does he.

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