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That's what I want.
Hayden took some convincing, especially once the movers arrived for my stuff. He said if it was up to him, he'd lock me up in his penthouse so he can have his way with me, to which I—much to the dismay of literally every heterosexual woman in existence—told the billionaire's son he would do no such thing.
Begrudgingly, he agreed to take things slow on the stipulation we remain exclusive to one another, which I found quite amusing. Not for the obvious reason you might think—that he's a reformed playboy, and all. No, I found the idea funny, as it was unnecessary, because label or not, we belong to each other.
Exclusivity comes with the territory.
"Fine," he says, amused, as he watches me approach the wall of glass, stopping at a safe distance. "Maybe Mei deserves some credit, but I saw those nightstands you picked out. They're fancier than any I've seen."
I glance at my bedroom, through the door left partially open. Inside, next to the pearly-white bed frame Hayden bought me the day I moved into his penthouse, are two matching nightstands. With an antique flair, they stand on delicate brass legs that complement their handles. Positioned proudly on my side of the bed is Mei's perfect vase, having finally found its worthy spot in my bedroom.
"I splurged. Consider them my house-warming gift to myself." Even though I found the refurbished pair at an estate sale, they were still two-hundred dollars each—after I haggled the price down. They're a luxury I could've never afforded months ago.
Turning back, I'm weightless as I study the Hudson from this height, but I regain my footing, only to wobble all over again when a warm presence envelops my backside. Steady arms loop around me, the fleece of Hayden's coat tickling my skin.
"So, you have put your money toward decorating, after all. Now you'll let me pay for the rest?"
I tense, meaning to turn around and argue, but he locks me into place, chuckling.
"No, Hayden. You already went overboard with your gift." In the window's reflection, I catch the ginormous flatscreen leaning against the wall, still in its box. "Just one is plenty."
"Well, what ever am I going to do about the other gifts I ordered? They're nonrefundable."
My jaw drops, lost for words. Nonrefundable?! What a liar! Is that even a thing in this day and age?
"It's nothing crazy, don't you worry."
"Hayden..." I warn. "What did you order?"
"Just some small stuff."
"Like?"
He hums. "Oh, you know. The usual stuff. A dining table set."
"Wha—"
"And barstools... And a new couch, which may or may not have come with a coffee table. I can't recall. Honestly, Jules, it's nothing to fluster yourself with. Think of it as one step above buying you some wineglasses."
"Hayden!" I screech. "We talked about this. I already have a new wardrobe, thanks to you—most of which I can't even fit in my new closet. You can't go off and slap down the funds to furnish my whole apartment."
"Oh, sure I can."
Gosh! The ego of this man.
I squirm to no use, his grasp growing tighter, until I give up and whine, "What about taking things slow?"
Soft lips brush my ear, skating a shiver up my spine. "This is me taking it slow," he murmurs. "You're the girl I'm desperate to impress, baby. Of course, I'm going to shower you in gifts."
My toes curl, teeth sinking into my lower lip on a giggle. How is this my life?
Flashing me a smile in the glass's reflection, he squeezes. "Does that sound alright with you?"
"Why do I get the feeling my answer won't change much?"
Swinging to my other ear, he whispers, "Because it won't."
I bat his arm, giggling some more, as his contagious baritone mingles with mine, chuckling over the—
