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“Really.” She laughs. “Small world.”
“It really is.”
“I’m just going to pop into the back and make a copy of this really quick.” Just like she said, she heads into the back and returns less than two minutes later, handing me my ID. “The next time you come down, just stop here at the desk, and everything should be ready, so you will have full access to the building.”
“Great, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Have a great day.”
“You too, and nice meeting you.”
“You too, Elora.” She smiles as Roman starts to drag me toward an elevator.
When we get inside, he presses a button with a PH on it.
“What is PH?” I ask as the elevator begins to climb.
“Penthouse.”
Of course. I should have known that, even having never been in a building with a penthouse before.
The doors open, and we’re greeted with elegant carpet and beautiful cream wallpaper. Stepping out of the elevator, he urges me forward with a hand on my lower back, then opens a door across the hall. He holds it open while I freeze in place.
“You live here?” I breathe in disbelief, poring over a living room that looks like something out of a magazine, with a view of Manhattan out the floor-to-ceiling windows that people would pay money to see because the photos of it would be spectacular.
“I do,” he says, and I look up at him.
I assumed he was pretty wealthy, but after today, I’ve realized he has the kind of money most people, including me, could never even comprehend. I know no one who owns a private jet with a personal steward to wait on you hand and foot, a limo driver who knows you by name, or a house that overlooks Manhattan, and he has all three. “Are we going inside?”
“No,” I tell him quietly, and his fingers clamp around my waist.
“It’s just a house, Elora.” He’s wrong. This is not a house. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not a house.
“Who lives here with you?”
“It’s just me unless Clifford is around, but he and his family live in Bronxville, so he’s just here Monday through Friday.”
Hesitantly, I step over the threshold as a handsome gentleman with silvering hair wearing a nice button-down and slacks comes around the corner.
“Roman.” The quiet affection in the man’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Clifford.” Roman walks to him and pulls him in for a hug that seems to be filled with much more emotion than even the one he gave his mother and sisters at the hospital.
“I’m glad to have you back, kid.” Clifford pats his back, then lets him go, and his eyes come to me.
“Clifford, this is Elora. Elora—Clifford.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say softly, getting the feeling that it might not have mattered to Roman what his sisters, mom, and father thought about me, but this man’s opinion is important to him.
“You too.” His eyes are soft on me. “I ordered you two lunch when he said you were coming from the hospital and that you haven’t eaten much today. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” I tell him, and his look fills with approval before he glances at Roman, then back at me.
“I know he doesn’t cook, but if you want me to order any groceries, just let me know.”
“Sure.” I shift on my feet, and he smiles.
“All right, you two go eat. I’m taking off.” He looks at Roman. “Unless you wanted me to stick around?”
