Page 7 of Stolen Faith

Rowan’s expression didn’t change, remained the polite mask he’d worn most of the time, and he joined them at the window.

“Would you like to see the rest of the place?” Izabel breathed.

“Yes.” Brennon dropped his hand from her back.

An archway on one side of the living room led into a formal dining room. A second arch beside it gave access to the kitchen, with a door between the kitchen and dining room.

A hallway branched off the other side of the living room. It led to two guest rooms. Rowan’s suitcases waited in one room, Brennon’s in another. She’d said she would have their luggage brought over, and here it was. Brennon wondered if she had personal assistants or if the concierge at the hotel had coordinated with the concierge here in her building.

Maybe there was a secret network of concierges who secretly ran the world. That would make a good action-comedy premise. He should write that down.

Beside the spare bedrooms was her home office. It was starkly modern with gray walls and a sleek acrylic desk.

“When we remodeled the building, we also had conduit put in so it’s easy to upgrade fiber lines,” she said as they left the office. “Future-proofing the best we could.”

“We, as in the tenants?” Brennon asked.

“Actually, my family owns several real estate investment and development companies. Remodeling this building was a joint effort between two of them. Forty percent of the building is condos, owned by the occupants or companies who use it for executives and events. The other sixty percent is rental property. When I say ‘we’ I mean the company, though the owners’ association does have input into changes and improvements.”

They passed through the living room back to the foyer and across to the short hall there.

“This leads to the primary bedroom.” She started to undo the fastenings on her cape as they walked.

Brennon reached up, grasping the back of the cape as she shrugged out of it.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome.”

She opened the door, revealing a massive bedroom with a wall of windows.

And the biggest bed he’d ever seen.

“What size is that bed?” Brennon asked, fascinated.

“Alaskan King. It’s three meters by three meters.”

“Nine by nine is as big as some bedrooms,” Rowan said.

Brennon let out a surprised laugh.

Izabel smiled. “It is. Supposedly it sleeps four adults. The room was sized specifically to fit it. The other penthouse has a second living room, or a family room and a living room, depending on how you phrase it. I used that square footage for something else.”

She led them into an equally massive en suite bathroom. There were three separate sink and vanity areas, a good-size shower stall, and two toilet closets. But the standout piece was the massive jet tub in the center of the room. Raised up, with a wide ledge all the way around, it was the size of a spa, with plenty of room for three.

“You built this place for a trinity,” Brennon said.

“I did. And the bathroom is part of it but look at this.” Beside each vanity was a door. He assumed it was for a linen closet or some kind of storage. Instead, the doors opened into large closets.

“Three separate walk-in closets?” Brennon walked into the empty closet, the glossy wood shelves and rods waiting to be filled with someone’s clothes.

His clothes.

Shit, she’d had the perfect trinity home built. How the hell was he going to tell her, Hey, nice place, but can you move to L.A.? I have a cute little Spanish-style two-bedroom house with absolutely no modifications that would make it work for a trinity.

Brennon looked at Rowan and wished he could read the other man’s expression.

Izabel opened the door to another closet, and Brennon peeked his head in. This one was filled with clothes, shoes, and bags neatly displayed on lighted shelves.

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