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“Problems of the one-percenters,” Ciaran drawled, but the nervousness in his voice didn’t escape me.
The urge to apologize for my dad’s wealth hit me hard. The desire to please someone else was foreign to me. I’d been so used to living for myself and not caring about the feelings of others that I didn’t know how to respond.
His body started shaking when I pressed the button that would take us to Andy’s floor. Ciaran swallowed so hard I could actually hear it.
Emotions bubbled up in me but I didn’t know the correct way to react. I wanted to address how he was feeling, how I understood his confusion, but I wasn’t good at this.
Instead, I said, “Dad’s divested some of the residential properties to my brother, Dante, who runs it from his subsidiary company, Inferno Industries.”
This statement seemed to distract Ciaran. He jerked his troubled eyes to mine.
“Like Dante’s Inferno?” he scoffed, his mouth tight. Then, “Does Dante know the meaning behind that epic poem?” I shrugged. I’d heard of Dante’s Inferno, and I knew it was also a video game, but wasn’t sure what the deeper meaning was about. I made a mental note to look it up later. Ciaran was quiet a moment as the elevator carried us higher. “I swear,” he said, more to himself than to me, “tonight feels like I’m descending into my own version of the Nine Circles of Hell. Anyway…” He cleared his throat. His lips curved into a lopsided grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “That was clever of Dante. But it doesn’t make up for the fact that your dad could funnel the money to house those who are home insecure.”
“My dad and Dante are self-absorbed,” I said. “They see what they want to see.” When Ciaran’s gaze bore into mine with divine accusation, I threw my hands up in surrender. “Guilty. Yes, I’m self-absorbed, too. The difference though, is that I’m starting to learn, Ciaran. I’ll see what I can do, okay?”
“Thank you.”
I stared at him. He was so beautiful, it hurt. “You’ve brought a new perspective to my life…in more ways than one.” You make me want to be a better person.
Ciaran’s smile turned sweet, almost shy once the words left my mouth. He looked like he wanted to lean over and kiss me.
But then the elevator dinged, the door slid open, and the purpose of our being here crashed-landed back into existence.
The romantically dim wall sconces, brightly colored and fragrant flower sprays, gilded mirrors, and lush maroon carpet beneath our feet belied the tumultuous knots forming in my stomach.
I couldn’t imagine how Ciaran was feeling.
“What’s the apartment number?” Ciaran asked in a mere whisper. His chest was expanding rapidly and I wished I could breathe for him. Hell, I wished I could magic all of this away. What was the Wise Owl’s name again? She’d know the spell. We’d be in our own little world, on the beach somewhere, a happy sun in the sky, surfing in warm water, stealing kisses whenever we felt like it.
The desire to pull him into my arms was so strong that I had to mentally plant my feet to the ground.
I couldn’t lie to Ciaran. It would be cruel to let him discover the truth after we’d knocked on Andy/Drew’s door.
“I have a feeling you know the apartment number,” I said, meeting his eyes.
Ciaran nodded. “It was all adding up to be too much of a coincidence.” His throat bobbed. At his sides, I watched as his fingers curled in, clenching into fists. “When did you guess?”
“When you told me your mom said Drew introduced her to my dad. I was hoping I was wrong, but there were too many similarities. You?”
“When we started walking toward The West Flamingo.” We stood before the right apartment, the door gleaming white with an elegant knocker. Ciaran squared his shoulders, bracing for a fight. It was then I remembered he’d been here before. That Drew took advantage of him. “In my gut, I just knew, but I kept telling myself I was imagining things.”
My veins engorged with hot blood and I was angry all over again. My back molars ached from clenching my teeth so hard.
“We’re in this together, Ciaran.” I brushed his elbow. “Are you ready?”
He studied me for a moment. Whatever he saw in my expression, he found solace and acceptance there.
“I’m ready,” he said, his voice as rough as sandpaper.
Ciaran knocked loudly enough to be heard but not too loud to cause neighbors to investigate. A moment later, a flicker of darkness flashed behind the peephole. I could feel Andy’s eyes on us.
There was a metallic thunk as the bolt was turned, then the scrape of the safety chain being slid off its holder.
Andrew Jones opened the door in an unhurried fashion and greeted us with a boyish smile.
I was a millisecond away from lunging at him, my fists ready to connect with his jaw, before Ciaran reached out to stop me.
Drew was cradling the fertility statue like a parent might carry a baby.
