Page 62 of Somnium

“I’ll send you my address,” he said as she slid behind the wheel. “Oh, and I’ll give the doorman your name so you can just come on up when you get there.”

Cadi straightened against her seat, her head snapping to look at him. “Doorman? What kind of building do you live in?”

Elias grinned, giving her a suspiciously casual shrug. “The normal kind.”

He eased the door closed, chuckling at the look of shock still frozen on her face.

As he walked back into the bar, she took in his old jeans and his faded t-shirt. Who would have guessed that a man whose wardrobe likely hadn’t been replenished in at least five years, and who drove a car that was nearly the same age as she was, would live in a building that was upscale enough to warrant a doorman.

Though, she had to admit, ever since meeting Elias, nearly everything about him had defied her expectations. It would be a shame to change that now.

18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CADI

The rain began promptly on Thursday morning around 3 a.m., just as promised. It announced its arrival with a loud crack of thunder that jolted Cadi from a bone-deep sleep. She wasn’t scared of thunder, in fact, she adored it … just not at 3 a.m.

Now, a veritable deluge pelted her car at the red light while she waited impatiently to turn onto Elias’s street. The drive from her neighborhood had taken roughly twice as long as predicted, with several roads already completely impassable due to flooding. Things were starting to get hairy, and she wanted nothing more than to be off the streets and in the safety and comfort of his apartment.

She eased her car against the curb, and peered through the sheet of water running down her windshield at the looming, black-mirrored high-rise her GPS claimed was her destination. Glancing down at her phone, she checked the address Elias had sent her, comparing it against the gilded numbers embossed across the front of the building’s black awning: 903 Boltons Bridge Road.

This was it.

Her stomach did a weird flip-flop move as she shoved her library book into her bag, then double-checked that she had everything so she didn’t have to make a return trip through the onslaught. She blew out a breath through pursed lips while she waited for another car to drift past, reminding herself that this was just Elias. The type of building he lived in didn’t change that.

So why wouldn’t her hands stop shaking?

The gigantic drops were merciless, pelting her hair and clothes as she ran the short distance from her car to the building. It only took her about ten seconds, but that was enough to leave her completely drenched. Wind howled around her, chilling her to the bone. Her teeth began to chatter so hard she thought they might break. Lifting a waterlogged hand, she rapped her ghost-white knuckles against the glass door.

A broad-shouldered man in a forest green overcoat looked up from his spot behind a wooden podium, his eyes widening when he saw her. She checked her reflection in the door as he approached, which she quickly decided was a mistake. Between the wind and the rain, she resembled some sort of crazy, half-drowned rodent.

“Can I help you, miss?” the man asked politely, easing the door open just enough to speak through. Cadi tried not to take offense given her state, but she was freezing, and it turned out being in the beginning stages of hypothermia had a pretty negative effect on her patience.

“Yeah,” she yelled over the roar of the growing storm, trying to push as much confidence into her response as possible. “I’m Cadi Kismet. I’m a guest of Elias Masterson.”

For a moment, the doorman didn’t move, though his eyes quickly flicked down and back up before he offered her a hesitant smile. “One moment,” he said, before he pushed the door closed and returned to his podium, leaving her shivering in the icy wind.

Cadi hugged her middle, hunching forward for any ounce of protection against the brutal weather. She could barely believe it had been so sunny and warm just yesterday.

Her head snapped up at the sound of a lock being turned, but instead of stepping back to let her in, the doorman gave her a confused look. “I have an Arcadia Kismet …”

Cadi let out a shaky grumble. Of course Elias gave her full name. Probably laughed while he did it, too. He would definitely have to pay for that when she got inside.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she confirmed, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. It was difficult to tell since she couldn’t feel her face anymore.

The doorman lit up, his previous skepticism replaced with welcome as he stepped aside to usher her in. He moved quickly in front of her to hold open the thick oak doors that led into the lobby, then tipped his chin in a tiny bow as she passed through.

She had barely taken a single step over the threshold when her feet froze and her mouth fell open.

The entire space seemed to whisper quiet luxury, with nearly every surface fashioned from the same black marble. Recessed lighting poured from carefully crafted panels overhead, the soft light spilling across the polished stone floor in a way that was almost certainly intentional. Thick wood columns framed the main path that led to a bank of elevators against the far wall to create a subtle barrier between the walkway and the small alcoves of high-backed chairs and softly glowing lamps.

Cadi glanced down at the sopping fabric that clung to her body and winced when she saw the small pool of water slowly gathering around her feet. Taking a deep breath, she scurried forward, each step squeaking and squishing like she was running across ground made entirely of wet sponges.

She jammed her finger into the gold call button, wiggling her knees impatiently as if the motion might make the elevator arrive faster. Looking back over her shoulder, she cringed at the mess she had left behind, sending out a silent apology to whichever poor soul would have to clean up after her.

A chime sounded from overhead, and the sleek black doors slid open to reveal the brightly lit car. The same soft lighting from the lobby illuminated the mirrored walls, but the immaculate cream carpet and gilded accents seemed to laugh at her in an entirely different language of opulence.