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“Oh, um, yes! Come on up!” I buzz the man in, cringing at our messy living room and the prospect of having to shove my clothes into a suitcase.
A tall, well-built man dressed in jeans and a tailored shirt strides into our doorway. His dark blond hair appears slightly tousled. His friendly blue eyes are vaguely familiar.
“I'm Cade Neiman,” he introduces himself, extending his inked hand. “We crossed paths on your first day at Whitmore. I work closely with Jack.”
Suddenly, the memory clicks into place. I recall those tattoos snaking from beneath his dress shirt, stretching almost to his fingers. He is the man that sat next to Jack during that disastrous meeting, which I ran out of almost in tears.
As he turns to Grace, they both stall for a blink. Cade's grin widens slowly as he extends his hand, his gaze subtly tracing her features.
“Grace,” my sister manages, a pretty blush blooming as she accepts the handshake.
“And you look like a younger replica of Grace and Maddie!” Cade flashes a friendly smile to Aria.
“Aria.” She gives a shy smile. “I'll leave you guys to the packing madness. Homework calls.” She playfully nudges my shoulder before grabbing her textbook.
After she disappears to her room, I turn to Cade apologetically. “So sorry, I'm running way behind schedule today! Do you mind waiting a few while I pull things together?”
“No problem at all, take your time,” Cade says easily, leaning casually against the breakfast bar and eyeing Grace.
Heading to my room, I mouth to Grace, “You're welcome.”
She smirks at me, calling, “Hurry up, sis,” as she turns to Cade, offering him a coffee.
* * *
An hour later, Cade's sleek BMW stops in front of a stately brownstone on a peaceful West Village block.
“Wait, this is where Jack lives?” My eyes widen taking in the ivy-covered brick facade.
Cade chuckles at my stunned reaction. “He bought it when he moved back stateside.” He pops the trunk and easily lifts my suitcase as if it weighs nothing.
We climb the front steps to ring a polished brass doorbell. Moments later, the door swings open revealing an elegant middle-aged woman in a sleek black outfit.
“Mr. Neiman, good to see you again. This must be Ms. Emerson.” Her smile is both warm and professional.
Cade greets her familiarly. “Maddie, meet Elena. She runs this place flawlessly.”
The housekeeper ushers us inside the expansive foyer and directs Cade to bring my belongings up the winding staircase. “Your rooms have been fully prepared on the third floor, Miss.”
Rooms? Like in plural?
Third floor?Just how sprawling is this house exactly?
I follow Elena up the endless curved staircase. We turn down a long hallway where she gestures welcomingly to my rooms. As I spin around, taking in the spacious luxury accommodations, Cade appears in the doorway.
“I left your things in the bedroom. I'll let you settle in.”
“Thank you,” I say, still frazzled by the setting I will be living in. This place is a New Yorker’s wet dream.
“I'm sure I will see you around the office, Maddie. Have a nice rest of the weekend!” With a friendly wave, Cade descends down the stairs, leaving me standing stunned in the lavish environment.
As I spin around taking it all in, Elena smiles. “Please let me know if there is anything else you require, Ms. Emerson. Mr. Whitmore's quarters are on the second floor. He said you should make yourself at home, and that he would see you tomorrow.”
My eyebrows lift in surprise. “Oh. So, Jack won’t be here today?”
“He called to say he will be in meetings until late.” Elena tilts her head politely. “Any preferences for dinner tonight?”
What meetings are those, I want to bite, but instead, I smile. “Oh, um . . .” I blush, unaccustomed to such personal pampering. “Anything is fine, I'm sure whatever you make will be delicious.”
