“I still can’t believe I let Susan hire this ugly thing to take me home,” Jamie moaned as we stepped out of the building that evening and onto the sidewalk.

Waiting in front of us was a stretch limousine, its stoic driver standing by the door, looking austere.

“Not a fan of limos?” I asked.

Of all the things this guy was proving to be able to chatter about, complaining about fancy cars was a surprise.

“I mean, they look okay,” he said as he stooped to climb into the vehicle.

I followed, taking a seat opposite him. It was a clean, luxurious interior with a classic black-and-gray color scheme on the inside. I didn’t tell Jamie, but I knew Susan was contracting it. It had surprised me to find out that he didn’t actually own a limousine of his own.

“But the carbon footprint these things leave is absolutely ridiculous,” he added, “especially given the fact that it’s pure luxury. There’s no actual utility to these gas monsters.”

I chuckled as the driver closed the door behind us and moved around to start the engine and pull into traffic.

“What?” Jamie asked, smiling at my amusement. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing. You just didn’t strike me as the type to split hairs about your car’s carbon footprint.”

“How could I not?” he said, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his seat. “This is our planet, isn’t it? Have you seen the stats on carbon emissions coming from New York City alone? We’re not L.A., but we’re practically a bullet in the planet’s side.”

“And what would your alternative be, Mr. Environmentalist?” I asked, crossing my legs and spreading my arms out over the backs of the seats as I smirked and cocked my head to the side.

Jamie’s eyes darted over me, probably judging me for spreading out so much.

“Well, I’d personally like to see public transportation get a sweeping overhaul. Bikes are good too, albeit not as great with space economy in a place like this. But if you mean for us specifically, we do have legs, you know,” he said pointedly, “and I don’t live far from here.”

“Out of the question,” I said firmly. “We’re not walking anywhere until we figure out who tried to kidnap you. I got the full report from Susan, and I can tell you right now, that kind of attitude is exactly what made you vulnerable to an attack like that.”

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing out the window and frowning.

“I suppose so,” he murmured, but that fretting, anxious look bounced right back onto his face. “It just seems beyond hypocritical to be pushing for the kinds of projects I have going on while driving around Manhattan in these gas-guzzling status symbols.”

I gave him a long, hard look, then leaned forward, arching an eyebrow.

“Look, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks,” I said, and I could have sworn his eyes widened a touch before he caught himself. “So, level with me; are you being for real right now?”

“Excuse me?” he half laughed.

“About this whole eco-friendly, gentleman-entrepreneur thing,” I said, gesturing vaguely at him. He looked confused, but I went on. “I bet it’s great PR, but you can drop the act around me. I’m not getting paid for you to practice your charming billionaire persona.”

“Persona? I –”

Jamie’s amused expression faded, and it dawned on me that he was actually, genuinely indignant.

“Susan didn’t give you a dossier on me, did she?” he asked.

She had not, and my silent stare said as much.

Jamie sighed.

“Look, Damon, I know how it looks, with the limo and the office and everything,” Jamie said. “But I…” He hesitated a moment, then pressed on. “I wasn’t exactly born with a silver spoon in my mouth.”

“Oh, sure,” I chuckled.

That was what every rich person said.

“I’m serious,” he said, and I had to admit, the look on his face was sincere. In the NYPD, I got to know the difference between a man trying to put on a show and a man genuinely trying to sell a story he himself believed. “There’s a doughnut shop off Bronxdale Avenue where I stood in line with construction workers when I was a kid and got a little pocket money. My dad got his hands dirty. I got where I am today through luck and work.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, trying to sound disinterested.

“A private boarding school had this scholarship lottery kind of thing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

I wondered how many people he had talked to about this. Moreover, why was he telling me? He didn’t owe me a real explanation. I was just being an ass.

“It was part of some charity to give underprivileged kids a shot at success,” he continued. “I got in and worked hard to keep that scholarship. The things I learned and the people I met there all opened doors. Next thing I knew, I was at Columbia for college.”

“And they hand you a cool billion on your way out, is that right?” I teased him with a chuckle, but he rolled his eyes.

“Actually, I worked in undergrad research while I was there. I patented a water filtration system I developed that I’ve been expanding on ever since, and that thrust me into a world of…” he gestured around him at the limo, “all this.”

I raised my eyebrows at him as he finished his speech and looked at me expectantly, and the longer he looked, the more anxious he got.

“You’re not saying anything.”

“I’m just surprised you had all that rehearsed and ready,” I chuckled. “Used to having to tell people all that?”

“Not really,” he admitted, letting his shoulders slump. “Kind of the opposite, actually. Most of the people I deal with day to day are from a different kind of background. I got used to justifying myself a lot in high school, and it just stuck. But I’ve been rehearsing all this in my head for a while, now that I think about it.”

And he had been desperate to spill his guts to someone who wasn’t from old money, it sounded like.

I wasn’t sure what to make of Jamie, but as I leaned back and scratched the stubble on my face, I had to admit, he was more complicated than he seemed at first. I still wasn’t sure if I bought it all, but I supposed there was no harm in giving him the benefit of the doubt. A silence fell between us, and I felt the need to break it, but just as I did, we felt the limo slowing to a halt.

“Oh! We’re here,” Jamie said, smiling, and he moved to open the door before the driver could even get to it.

I stopped him gently but firmly and opened the door myself before climbing out and letting him follow. The driver, who was halfway to us, gave us a perplexed look but said nothing.

I looked around the neighborhood, and I shouldn’t have been surprised to see staggering wealth all around me. I followed Jamie’s gaze up to the white building looming in front of us, and my eyebrows went up. It was downright opulent, with neoclassical architecture adorning the end of a row of equally gorgeous buildings just east of Central Park. They gave off a powerfully Manhattan vibe I almost couldn’t wrap my head around.

“Come on, let me show you in,” he said, and he led me inside without another moment’s hesitation.

We walked past the doorman as he greeted us with a smile and made our way to the elevator. A few moments later, Jamie was opening the door of his massive apartment and gesturing for me to follow him inside.

Opulent didn’t begin to describe what I stepped inside to see. The apartment was massive – bigger than most houses – and had sleek black floors and snowy white walls. The furniture color palette ranged from cream to silver to gold. At its heart, the apartment had an elegantly minimalist aesthetic unifying it all, but it had just enough hints of its art deco roots to show Jamie’s taste for older styles. It was a twist on the expected that I could appreciate.

We walked through a spacious foyer that looked like it could entertain foreign ambassadors, and that led into a brightly lit library that made me wish I were more of a reader.

I never thought I’d see a library in someone’s apartment, but this place was way too big to be simply called an apartment. It was like a mansion in the sky.

“I was about to say, ‘let me give you the grand tour’, but we’re already partly here,” he said, gesturing around the library. “This is the one part of the place that doesn’t fit the rest of the house aesthetically, but a while ago, I visited the Rylands library in Manchester, England, and got swept up in Victorian architecture for a few years. I wouldn’t want an entire house looking like that, but I think I can afford a cozy library with that kind of feel to it.”

“I don’t think it’s out of place,” I said, and Jamie looked rather surprised.

“Really? Do…you have a taste for architecture?”

“I mean, I live in the Bronx,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, “but I’ve been around a lot. I know what I like.”

Jamie looked like he desperately wanted to ask me more, but he restrained himself, thankfully, and we moved on into the main living room, which was bigger than anything I thought possible in this city. I also didn’t think it was possible to be this creative with an open floor plan, but he had four distinct sitting areas arranged around the windows, the westernmost of which provided a stunning view of Central Park. As I gazed out the window, I caught sight of a painting on the wall that looked familiar.

“Is that a Monet?”

Again, Jamie looked stunned at me, but before he could ask how I knew what a Monet painting looked like, I raised a hand to stop him. “My sister-in-law is an art history kind of person. She has a print of that in her house. Wedding present.”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said as he led me onward.

“I was about to say the same to you,” I said, grinning. “Art aside, this must have left a hell of a carbon footprint, don’t you think?”

From behind, I watched Jamie’s ears turn red, and I figured I’d touched a nerve. He shot me a look over his shoulder before we stepped into a dining area. It featured a long table lined with ornate wooden chairs on a long Persian rug.

“I know, I know,” he said, sighing. “Look, I don’t want to argue. I got this place when I was young and had just come into money. Imagine what you’d do if you had a few billion out of nowhere. It goes to your head, really fast, and I’ll be the first to admit I went a little crazy with it.”

“How old’s that Persian rug?” I asked smugly, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“Pretty old,” he said quietly, then cleared his throat. “But look, I’m not squandering any more resources than I need to. I’ve made a lot of eco-friendly upgrades to the place over the years. Believe it or not, almost all the furniture in here is made from sustainable, recyclable materials. I’ve had it featured in a few interior design magazines to promote what kinds of things are possible with recycled furniture. Nothing made in sweatshops here.”

“Alright, alright, I was just messin’ with you,” I said, chuckling.

“Now, here’s the kitchen,” he said, taking me back to a setup that would make a Michelin-starred chef envious, with its long granite counters and not one but two ovens; one conventional, one brick.

The long chef’s table in the middle of the kitchen was wooden, to my surprise, but topped by pristine metal, keeping everything sanitary yet still feeling on the cusp or rustic in a way that didn’t intrude on the rest of the house.

I felt a pang of envy, despite myself. Even though I hadn’t lived a privileged lifestyle, I knew my way around a kitchen, and I loved cooking. It was something I always kept to myself, kind of one of life’s small joys when I got some spare time. I couldn’t let Jamie know that, though. I’d never hear the end of it. I’d only known the guy for a day, but even I could tell that much.

We headed up to the second floor, which was clearly Jamie’s private living space, along with a few guest rooms. The idea of having so much room for entertaining alone was staggering to me, but even a fraction of this floor was a hell of a lot, by my standards.

Like the rest of the house, it was lavish, but there were more personal touches here. We passed an office, which featured a few pictures hanging on the walls, presumably from Jamie’s travels, and he had some more obscure art hanging on the walls I didn’t recognize. He took me down a hallway to a separate reading room, and as soon as we stepped in, I understood why he had it.

“This,” he said, gesturing to an even more gorgeous view of Central Park right in front of the most comfortable-looking reading chair I’d ever seen, “is where I go to get away. Kind of a private sanctuary. Reading, meditation, morning exercise, it all happens here. Well, besides jogging,” he said, flashing me a smile.

“Incredible,” I couldn’t help but say, and Jamie looked delighted at that.

He led me further down the hall to show me to a bathroom, then stopped at a closed door at the far end of the hall.

“Oh, and this one is my room,” he said. “We don’t need to check that out, I suppose, but there it is.”

He smiled almost nervously, and I felt something strange. Standing there in a hallway with Jamie already made me feel somewhat enclosed with him but being so close to a bedroom with him gave me a feeling within me that I couldn’t explain.

I couldn’t deny that there was something I appreciated about the way Jamie carried himself. This was all far too rich for my blood, but he had a way of showing it off that seemed to suit him well. He was comfortable in his own space, he had great taste, and he was confident in how he showed it off without coming off like a showoff.

Could this guy be for real?

Despite myself, I found myself wondering what his bedroom looked like. I stood a little taller than him, and as I looked down at the clean-cut man in a suit that a model couldn’t have worn better, I realized that the thick shaft between my legs was hard as a rock. I turned away as soon as I realized my face was starting to get red, and having Jamie’s piercing emerald eyes on me didn’t help.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Where will I be staying? One of the guest rooms downstairs?”

“Oh no, actually,” he said, beaming and hurrying down the hall, “you have a room right up here with me.”

“Another guest room?”

“For close friends, usually,” he said, opening the door and stepping inside. “But you’re as close as anyone can get, so you get the VIP suite.”

He winked, teasing, but as I stepped into the room, I felt like I was being shown into a luxury hotel. The room featured the biggest bed I’d ever seen, with a full-scale window that looked down on a beautiful courtyard and garden out back. The armoire and wardrobe in the room had to be older than my grandparents, and it included a simple desk with a computer already on it. There was even a liquor cabinet featuring labels I didn’t think I’d ever see in person.

“Some of my friends like to drink, so I tend to keep things stocked,” he said, approaching the cabinet and admiring it. “I have to say, though, I like being able to look at a bottle of real absinthe more than trying to choke the stuff down. The monks who made it are unbelievably friendly, though.”

“Jesus, and here I thought I’d be sleeping in the servants’ quarters by the stables,” I said, laughing.

“Not at all!” he said, rounding on me with wide eyes. “Nobody who works here lives in. I like the place quiet, to myself. Besides, I don’t like the feeling of being catered to. Still kind of makes me uncomfortable. The doorman is a stretch, but Susan wouldn’t let me live anywhere without one.”

“Calm down, I was kidding,” I chuckled, putting my hands on my hips as I surveyed the room.”

“Oh. Right,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Well, that’s everything. Oh-- what would you like for dinner, by the way? Your options are…pretty much anything.”

I tossed the bag I packed onto the bed and stretched.

“Don’t care.”

“I should have guessed,” Jamie said. “Well, I’ll give you some time to get settled, then.”

“Sounds good,” I grunted, and Jamie nodded before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

I looked around at the place, still partly in disbelief. What in the hell had I gotten myself into? I spent the next few minutes unpacking, and seeing my clothes hanging up or folded in this ridiculously rich furniture was laughable.

After just half an hour, though, I heard a knock at the door, and I opened it to see Jamie there, changed into a simpler outfit. He’d stripped off his suit and changed into a simple pair of jeans and a tasteful polo, and I had to admit, he wore it damn well.

“Dinner’s ready!” he said proudly. “It’s just some bolognaise the chef cooked last night. Good pasta is always better the second day.”

“Thought you said you didn’t have any live-in chefs?”

“I don’t, I reheated it myself.”

I raised my eyebrows. I assumed I’d be eating in my room, but it would be rude to refuse him when he obviously wanted me to eat with him. Reluctantly, I headed down the hallway with him and down toward the dining room.

“Like I said, I usually like this place as private as possible,” he said. “I had a live-in boyfriend for a while, and that was about as close to a live-in anything as I’m willing to get. Wasn’t even comfortable with that, to be totally honest. Maybe that’s why it didn’t work out.”

But despite all the wealth, all the excess, and all the surprises Jamie was throwing my way, I was beyond frustrated at the one emotion haunting me I didn’t understand: the thought of Jamie having a boyfriend living here made me…irritated.”

That’s a good word for it, I told my subconscious. Anything but ‘jealous.’