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Just.But it will have to do.
The silence is eerie when I walk out of my room and into the living room.
Only now do I see how massive his penthouse is. The matte black colored kitchen is vast with two islands, one with a stove and the other for casual dining. Each has Italian marble tops.
There’s another dining area with a large wooden table and cream leather chairs around it. The chairs match the couches, of which there are three, and they surround a large fireplace. Then, at the other end of this living area is what I like best. A floating staircase that leads upstairs to West’s suite, a gym, and the rooftop terrace. I haven’t been upstairs yet.
“West,” I call out at the bottom of the stairs, but there’s no answer, probably sleeping or hitting the gym. I mean, he has to go to the gym, right? There’s no way a man can have a body like that without doing something to make him sweat.
I head back to the kitchen and fumble with the fancy coffee machine until it spits out a steaming cup of deliciousness.
A large smile curves on my face as I take in that this is my life for one whole year.
I could dance, but I’m not sure if there are hidden cameras around West’s apartment. And I don’t want to embarrass myself nor let him know how elated I am to be here.
I pop a slice of bread in the toaster, drumming my fingers on the marble countertop as I wait. When it pops up, I spread a thin layer of butter and take a bite, savoring the taste as I lean against the counter.
I stroll to the floor-to-ceiling windows while inhaling the aroma of my coffee.
I check the time again.
I wonder what time West wakes up.
We are normally at work by eight in the morning, but the office is only a short ride away.
I’m unsure what to do next. This isn’t my space. I don’t have my usual routine, my stuff, my life.
My eyes flicker around the room, looking for something to occupy me. There’s a sleek laptop on the coffee table. Maybe I could check my emails. I could start working early. But it feels wrong to touch West’s things without permission.
I wander to the bookshelf, running my fingers along the spines. Most are business books and not exactly light morning reading. So, I decide to make the most of my early morning rise, an empty apartment, and the lack of a fake boyfriend or anyone at all.
I grab my phone and pull up a playlist. Something gentle, but with a rhythm that matches the energy I need to shake off the remnants of yesterday.
I move to the rug in the middle of the couches. It’s a bright splash of color against the sleek black floor and cream couches. I kneel and close my eyes for a moment before pushing myself into my first yoga position.
I move through poses, stretching my limbs while letting the music flow through me. Focussing on my breathing and the calm of the apartment. But midway through the downward dog, I hear voices drifting from another room.
My heart skips.
Is West talking in his office?
The talking dies, and I continue.
My palms and one foot are on the floor while my other leg is stretched in the air behind me when a throat clears behind me.
I glance between my legs, seeing an annoyed looking West with another man.
“Uh…” I stumble out of my pose and straighten up. But I nearly lose my balance as blood rushes in the opposite direction.
Heat floods my cheeks when I glance at my T-shirt. I pull at the hem, trying to cover myself, but it feels like a waste, considering they’ve seen an eyeful of my crotch.
West raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into an unamused smirk. “We need to talk about your clothing choices when I have guests.”
“I didn’t know anyone was here.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I thought you were asleep, not talking business.”
The other guy glances around the room, his expression unreadable.
“Nice to meet you,” he says as if he strolled into someone’s living room instead of catching me half-naked. He holds out his hand. “I’m Liam Franks, West’s lawyer.”