Page 51 of Insatiable Park Avenue Prince

That sounded easy enough. “What floor is it I need?”

“Don’t worry, the elevator knows where to go. All you have to do is go down and step inside. I’ll take care of the rest.”

What did she mean? How would it know where to stop if I didn’t enter the floor number?

“Remember, elevator two. Have a good night.”

I planned to, but that was kind of dependent on reaching the man waiting for me somewhere inside this building.

Trusting the woman knew what she was talking about, I walked down the hall to where several gold doors lined the wall and stopped in front of the second—as soon as I did, the door slid open.

“Holy shit.” I looked at the walls and above the door but saw no buttons, no floor numbers, just a fancy elevator car that would apparently take me where I needed to go. I stepped inside, and as the door shut, my phone started to ring.

What do you know, it was the man I was here to see.

“Hey, you.” I leaned against the back rail, feeling my heart pounding a little harder at the idea I would see Donovan in a couple of seconds. “I somehow worked out how to get into this fancy-ass elevator of yours and am on my way up.”

“You’re in the elevator?” He sounded a little panicked, but I had to be reading him wrong. He’d invited me here. Had he changed his mind?

“Is everything okay?”

I thought I heard him curse, and then he said, “So, uh, on second thought, there’s no need to hang out at my place. We can just go out.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fine, but I’m actually on your floor now.” The door opened, and I stepped out into the hallway.

“Don’t move,” he said quickly. “Do me a favor and just stay right where you are for, like, five minutes.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, just trust me. Five minutes and I’ll meet you in the hall.”

I paused for a beat, not sure whether to trust that everything was all right or if this was some quirk showing itself. “If you’re being held hostage, say banana.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Stay there, don’t knock—I’ll see you in five.”

“Got it,” I said, but Donovan had already hung up.

I shoved my cell in my pocket and glanced at the closed door of his place. What the hell was going on in there that he didn’t want me to knock? Or come inside? It couldn’t be that it was a mess. If he could afford a place like this, he wasn’t the one cleaning it.

With no clue what could be wrong, I leaned against the wall, staying close to the elevator, and crossed my arms to wait it out.

The door to Donovan’s apartment flew open suddenly, and a sharply dressed, dark-headed guy stood in the door, calling over his shoulder, “I need more vodka to deal with this. If you want something different, get it yourself.”

He walked out and the door slammed shut behind him, and the guy started in my direction, but the second his eyes landed on me, he stopped short.

Wait, I’d seen him before. The night of my party he’d been in the VIP section with Donovan—but I couldn’t remember much about any of the guys that had been there outside the one I’d had my eye on.

Surprise turned into something more devious as his eyes sparkled and his lips curled up. “Well, well, well,” he said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his tailored pants as he sauntered toward me. “What do we have here?”

The long once-over he gave me from head to toe was bold, I’d give him that. Especially for someone whose name I couldn’t remember.

“Sin, isn’t it?” he said, that smirk growing. “I’d ask what brings you here, but I have a feeling I already know the answer. The question is, what are you doing in the hall?”

His tone was goading, and though I didn’t know why, I also knew I didn’t really care. I kept my casual position against the wall and said, “And you are?”

“East. We met the night of your party.”

“Right.”

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