Hard Rules

Like I don’t want him anywhere near my mess, I think, and it’s not a good thought. Suddenly, I can’t help but wonder if we are the right people but at the wrong time. But how could this ever be the right time in my situation? I wouldn’t want to miss knowing Shane and I don’t know where that leaves me, or us.

I’m still trying to figure out the answer when we reach the double glass doors of the building. Shane opens the door for me. I step inside the foyer, seeing gray stone under my feet, a capped high ceiling above me, and a luxury seating area outlined by an expensive-looking blue oriental rug. Shane joins me, and I say, “It’s pretty, but kind of sterile, where the Four Seasons feels warm and friendly.”

“‘Sterile’ seems an appropriate description,” he agrees, motioning toward the seating area where a man and woman, both in business casual attire, are chatting.

His arm returns to my shoulders.

“I feel underdressed and like I need a shower,” I say, as we start walking.

“I’m spending millions on this place if I buy it,” he says. “They’re the only ones who need to take a shower.”

“Only you could say that and not sound arrogant,” I comment.

“Because I see the influence of money as a fact,” he states. “It’s about knowing where your power comes from.”

Knowing where your power comes from. Those words resonate with me, and in my mind, I believe my phone will ring now. Because I took the power I still had left, and used it when I left that message. I’m so lost in thought I don’t immediately realize the woman is walking toward us, and not only is she elegant in black pants and blouse, she has spiky blond hair and her name is Jessica.

Instantly on the defensive, I try to pull my hand away from Shane and he catches it on the other side of his hip. “Shane, let go, damn it.”

“She’s already seen us, sweetheart, and I trust her. You can trust her too.”

“Why didn’t you at least warn me?”

“I didn’t know she was going to be here until we walked in.”

It’s at that moment that we halt in front of Jessica, her attention settling on me. “Hello, Emily.”

“Hi, Jessica,” I say, giving an awkward wave. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, but it just wasn’t the right time.”

“I’m using her to get information,” Shane says. “Hiding in plain sight. Understood?”

“To protect her,” Jessica concludes, her gaze flickering between the two of us. “Understood. You could have told me right out of the gate.”

“We’re telling you now,” Shane says. “And Derek and my mother know.”

“And your father?”

“Assume he does,” Shane states, and obviously done with the topic, adds, “Let’s get this viewing done and over with.”

“All right then,” she says. “But before I introduce you to Frank, our Realtor today, you should know I’d describe him as ‘difficult.’”

“My money isn’t,” Shane replies.

“Well then,” she replies, “it seems that in your present mood, Frank doesn’t stand a chance.” She steps backward and leads us in his direction.

Frank, a fifty-something man with glasses and a pretentious attitude he doesn’t need words to reinforce, greets us with handshakes, and quickly directs us to an elevator bank. Once inside, Shane stands behind me, one possessive hand on my shoulder. “This property will go fast,” Frank states, standing near Shane. “How motivated are you to make a quick decision?”

“If I’m motivated,” Shane says dryly, “you’ll know.”

Frank doesn’t get the message to stand down, pressing onward. “I should tell you that I already have several interested parties.”

“If I’m motivated,” Shane repeats. “You’ll know.”

Frank shuts up at that point and the rest of the ride to the penthouse is silent. The car stops on our level, and frank leads us to the one and only door on the floor, while Shane urges me inside the apartment for the first look. Upon entering, the wooden floor is dark, almost black, a striking difference to what Shane has now. Traveling a short hallway with stucco walls, I exit the other side to find myself in a half-moon-shaped room wrapped in windows. The view of downtown and the Rocky Mountains, is so stunning, I barely glance at the black leather furnishings framing a fireplace running to the ceiling.

“What do you think?” Shane asks, stepping to my side.

I turn to face him. “So far, it’s not that different from what you have now, though I haven’t actually looked around it completely.”

“You’re right. It’s got the same look and feel, down to the balcony off the living area.” His hands settle on his hips. “The difference is that there I’m by the office.”

“That has pros and cons,” I say. “And your father sure won’t be renting a room here.”

“My father,” he says, his look thoughtful, his fingers stroking the dark, sexy roughness of the stubble on his jaw, which he didn’t shave this morning. “Won’t be renting a room there either.”

“I thought you said he was already?”

“I did.”

Before I can ask what he means, Jessica appears between us, linking her arms with ours. “Let’s look at the rest of the place,” she urges. “Through the archway directly in front of us is a gorgeous gray stone kitchen and a sunken library.” We start moving in that direction. “There’s also an office and a bedroom, while the upstairs is expansive.”