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Chapter 2
Surprisingly, Foster didn’t live far from Zane and Lana’s apartment. We disembark the limo across from Central Park, and he once again grasps my elbow, leading me into the elegant lobby of his building. I marvel at the pre-war architecture consisting of light marble floors and contemporary artwork on the beige walls.
Foster says nothing as he removes keys from his pocket and ushers me into the elevator. He then slips a key into a lock just below a black button with PH embossed in white.
I snort. “Big surprise.”
“Excuse me?”
“The penthouse?” I ask sarcastically.
“This is my building. The penthouse was built to my specifications.”
I ignore him, and instead, turn my gaze down to my black painted toenails peeking out of my sandals. The ride seems to take forever until the elevator dings, and the door opened directly into a massive foyer.
Foster leads me out onto dark hardwood floors, which swept in every direction as far as I can see. In my imagination, I expected something more sophisticated, like expensive marble. Like the lobby, contemporary paintings adorned the linen white walls. After he let go of my elbow, I just stand there taking in the beauty of his place.
Foster turns, briskly stating, “Miss Butler, stop gaping. I’ll give you a tour later. Lunch is set in the garden.”
“How do you know what I want to eat?”
“I just do. Follow me.”
Foster removes his jacket and slings it over one of the six oval backed, ivory upholstered dining chairs we pass. He tosses his navy-blue tie onto the rectangular table and begins to unbutton his sleeves as we move through thick glass sliders out onto a beautiful rooftop garden.
Several planters hold sculpted evergreens and multi-hued flowers. A carved white marble fireplace is set up in one corner of the space, along with several loungers surrounding it. I wonder what it would be like to sit out here on a cool evening with a roaring fire.
Foster finishes rolling his sleeves as I follow him to a small round table covered by a white linen tablecloth, set with china and silverware. Next to the table is a silver bucket with ice and a bottle of champagne.
I point at the bottle. “What are we celebrating?”
“That depends on you.”
I sigh as he pulls out a chair for me. The mystery proposition had me on edge since yesterday. As soon as we were seated, a man in a white waiter’s uniform appears with a covered, large silver tray. He places it on the table, then backs away.
“What’s for lunch?” I ask in anticipation.
Not answering, Foster grips the handle on the cover and pulls it up. On the tray was a large pizza pie topped with olives and mushrooms, my favorite.
I smile. “How did you know?”
“I just did.”
We make small talk during lunch. It is a lovely day, even though the heat made it slightly uncomfortable. Foster isn’t as big of an ass as I thought. He had more interests than he let on and over pizza, we discuss music artists.
“Do you know BattleAxe?” he asks.
“Of course, who doesn’t?”
“My company signed them a couple of years ago.”
“Your company? I thought you dealt in real estate and startups.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Yeah, like why I’m here. I’m surprised you even know my name.”
“Of course I know your name. I’ve known it since you started.”
