Tension I hadn’t been aware of holding in my body starts melting away when it becomes clear where I’m headed—a part of the city where I certainly won’t have to worry about a break-in daily.

Not that it’s impossible in this upscale area—it can happen anywhere, obviously—but depending on which floor I end up on, it’ll certainly take more effort and skill to enter my living quarters than before.

The driver of the van parks while the other holds out a prepaid phone to me.

I stare at it suspiciously, my heart beginning to pound as I wonder if I trusted the wrong set of folks.

These guys were sent by Jaxson, weren’t they?

“I was told to hand this to you,” he insists.

I finally take the phone from him then jump when it rings in my hand.

I click ‘answer,’ bringing it to my ear slowly.

“Stage one complete?” Jaxson voice says through the receiver, causing a breath of relief to rush out. “Everything going well so far?”

I can’t decide whether his telephone voice or in-person voice turns me on more. Both are deep and reach parts of me I often forget exists. Somehow, his low, masculine tones make me feel like he’s sneakily sliding a hand up my skirt every time.

“I’m fine, Jaxson, although I probably should have checked with you when the crew first arrived; I didn’t even think twice about it.”

“Well, I told you who I was sending and when, so…”

“Yes, but…” I stop, reminding myself not to say too much.

“You need to tell me why you’re so paranoid, Candace,” Jaxson says after a few seconds of quiet.

“I’m just not used to being able to trust my surroundings or the approach of strangers, that’s all.”

“I see,” he says flatly. I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Well, the men know exactly what to do, where to take you. Give me a call once you’re settled in and they’re gone. Just hit redial for this number—it’s the only one in that phone.”

“Copy that,” I say mockingly, then immediately regret it.

No need for snark, right?

I agreed to let him do this for me, and I’m grateful to be out of that rundown area I called my residence.

Truthfully, I haven’t even thought about what I’d do if Jaxson got mad at me or something and kicked me out of this new place, but I’m content knowing that even if he fires me eventually, after a few months of working for him, I should have a better cushion while sorting out my new job and place.

The call disconnects and the movers get ready to help me move into my new unit.

I have to stifle a giggle as I take one last look at the unnecessary van they’d come in; they could have showed up in a compact sedan and it would have been more than enough space for my stuff. 

As it is, the three of us can handle moving all my belongings into the new place in a single trip.

The building has front desk security where I pick up my keys and other credentials, and by the time I’m riding up to the top floor with the movers, I realize my body is completely relaxed and I notice I’m actually smiling like a drunken fool as I catch my reflection in one of the reflective walls.

How could one change make such a huge difference?

Of course, I already know the answer to that question, having gone the other way. 

The first day I moved from the house I’d shared with Charles, some part of me sank to a place it had remained stuck in... until now.

The elevator doors open and I follow the men to my new unit and let us all in.

They deposit my bags and a box in the living room area and are gone before I’ve finished glancing around the space; I barely notice their exit.

This place is stunning and far more spacious than I’d imagined!

Even younger me would have raised both eyebrows at it.

I thought my family was rich as a kid, but I later found out we were “well-off”—we had safety nets, and could afford expensive vacations and furnishings and gifts. We had first-class seats money, not private jet money. We weren’t multimillionaires, though the household income was seven figures. 

The place I’m standing in now is something folks a bracket above my parents might own. 

I start laughing as I realize the receiving area alone is much larger than the entire living space I’d just come from.

There I was, having adjusted to a living space of five hundred square feet, and this penthouse suite is easily over two thousand square feet.

I turn to take in the kitchen, jumping a little when the phone I’d been gripping rings.

“Weren’t you supposed to call me?” Jaxson says.

“How do you know I’m already up here?”

“Easy,” he says sort of slyly, and then a human-sized figure appears in the corner of my eye.

I pick up the nearest heavy object, but before I can throw it, I realize it’s Jaxson who emerged from one of the back rooms, and he’s grinning boyishly.

“Fuck, Jaxson! You scared me!” I shout, my heart thumping rapidly.

“I can see that,” he says, still quite amused, his blue eyes on my chosen weapon—what I now realize is an electric wine opener. 

“You were going to handle an intruder with that?”

“Damn right. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure everything’s okay—that you got here safely, and that you like the place. So what do you think?”

My heart is only now starting to slow down from the sudden scare of his unexpected appearance, but the beat has changed, responding to his slow approach toward me instead.

He has a way of zoning in on me that has always unnerved me, his dark blue eyes laser-focused on my face as if he can’t afford to miss a second.

Tension returns to my body, and I’m having trouble telling how much of it is due to having my new space invaded by his overbearing masculine presence, and how much of it comes from a desire to be invaded more intimately, with Jaxson thrusting between my legs.

“Well, I haven’t gotten a second to really take a look at it because of you. I haven’t even unpacked!”

I sound surly, but he deserves it for scaring me like that. I’m still sort of scattered, residual fear and growing desire making me feel powerless and frustrated.

Still, I feel bad when an emotion resembling hurt briefly registers in his eyes, but he’s back to normal in no time, making me think I imagined it.

“I needed to see for myself that everything was up to proper standards and to add a few personal touches since this was all done so quickly,” he says neutrally. “You’re free to redecorate as you like, of course—I just wanted to make sure it looked like... a home when you got here.”

He moves quickly past me instead of stopping in front of me as I’d anticipated, and his hand grabs the doorknob as he prepares to leave.

“Enjoy your new home,” he says with a curt nod, swinging the door open.

“Thank you,” I reply softly, feeling sort of panicked now, desperate to stop him before he goes.

But for what?

I’ll see him tomorrow and can update him then.

He nods in acknowledgment and turns to leave.

“Oh,” he says, turning back to me. “As this is a new neighborhood, and you have yet to familiarize yourself with the nearby stores and such, how about I take you to dinner tonight? I can be back for you by seven thirty, which I think gives enough time…”

“Yes, Jaxson,” I say with a huge smile. 

Damn it, there’s something so adorable about him right now, plus I’m so glad he came up with something that leaves us parting on a better note.

He flashes a bright smile in return, and just before the door closes behind him, I say, “But what kind of place? I’m not sure I have anything to…”

“You have options,” he says with a wink that almost turns me into a puddle on the spot.

I get the feeling I’ll find a closet full of new outfits waiting for me.

I wonder if I should have even bothered bringing my old wardrobe.

“It’ll be a five-star restaurant, so dress nice,” he says. “I’m sure the debutante in you knows what to do.”

Then the door is closed and he’s gone.

My heart sinks at the disappearance of his handsome, chiseled face, but I quickly remember I’ll see him again pretty soon, and the joyous lightness I’d experienced earlier returns.

* * *

I wouldn’t change a damned thing about the living room—it is absolute perfection in its sharp, elegant black-and-white scheme.

The kitchen is stacked with appliances I’d missed dearly—items I’d had to accept parting with once I left them outside as I was moving into my last place, robbed of my microwave and blender before they could even make it inside.

Now, I have access to those again and other things I’d easily taken for granted before—a juicer, an espresso maker.

Heck, I even have a dishwasher!

The refrigerator is also a massive upgrade, and when I open it, I see that it’s been stocked with some basics.

There’s a note on the front of it that says to make note of specific grocery items and they’ll be obtained for me.

From what I understand, I’ll have a shopper—someone who’ll go out and get what I need. Sweet!

I exit the kitchen but don’t bother to move my luggage from their place on the living room floor just yet because I don’t want their old filth to spoil any of the new rooms I’m about to see.

The first one I get to is a bedroom.

It’s also larger than my entire previous living space with a king-sized bed.

I immediately have to fight off images of Jaxson and me rolling around on it, our naked limbs entwined, concentrating on the details of the bedroom instead.

The decor is neutral—it doesn’t read feminine or masculine, but it’s beautifully balanced and appropriate for any sex. It’s mostly mahogany and white, the careful coordination of selected pieces evident.

I resist crawling into the bed to feel the soft-looking bedding against my skin for now, heading over to the closet instead. It has far more space than I’ll ever need and is stocked with items of clothing and shoes in my size.

I sigh dreamily, a silly smile on my face as I move to check out the other areas of my new suite.

It’s the bathroom that does me in.

Once I get a load of it, my chest fills to capacity, and my tight throat finally gets a bit of relief when I can’t hold back tears anymore after a few emotional seconds.

He remembered.

Jaxson is clearly responsible for the decor here—it’s decorated in lilac and white, with vases of orchids accenting the room and the scent of vanilla in the air. My favorite colors, my favorite flowers, my favorite scent.

Jaxson and I talked about the kind of house we wanted to live in several times during our young courtship.

I told him I wanted one just like the one I grew up in—a large five-bedroom home since I imagined having at least three kids and a guest room. As for the master bedroom, I told him I wanted it to have two bathrooms.

“No offense,” I’d said, “but I need my own bathroom. I want to decorate it very specifically. Lilac and white—too feminine for you, of course—with vases of orchids and vanilla candles. Your bathroom can be decorated with rocks and cars or whatever you guys like,” I’d finished jokingly.

What I’m looking at is pretty much exactly as I described to him, more than I even imagined. The color scheme, the decor, the patterns—this place was tailor-made for me.

It couldn’t be clearer that Jaxson wanted to make sure I felt welcome, comfortable, home—just as he’d said.

He really was helping to get the place ready for me; he tried to make me happy.

Emotion overwhelms me and I end up sitting on the shiny tile, sobbing into my hands as memories and contrition assault me.

* * *

Eventually, I get up and take a long, warm shower—the adjustable shower head another long-forgotten luxury.

I pick out an outfit for my dinner date with Jaxson, finding myself getting ready as if it’s a real date instead of just a meet-up to get a basic need met; after all, Jaxson didn’t invite me out because I’d been suddenly extricated from my old home and supplies—he could have just had food delivered here in that case. Plus, the cupboards and refrigerator here aren’t exactly empty, so this dinner is about more than just helping me fill my belly after my sudden move.

Jaxson asked me out because he wanted to; he wants to hang out with me.

I suddenly feel sure that, no matter how mad he still might be at me, he still likes me. 

He has made that crystal clear with everything he has done for me so far.