Page 73 of Capturing Love

Grayson’s driver opened the door to a dark sedan that lay waiting for me at exactly 6:01pm. Quickly glancing around to see if I knew anyone outside The Edge, I thanked the driver and stepped towards the passenger door. Instead of sliding in like a lady, which was my intention, a hand reached out and grabbed mine, pulling me inside.

I squealed as I fell amongst the leather interior and into Grayson’s arms. His lips slammed against mine. “You’re a minute late.” I tried to defend myself, but he hushed me with his finger. “Shhh. We’re behind schedule.”

With a giggle, I let Grayson maul me in the backseat of his private car, while his driver discreetly wound up the privacy window and drove. The city traffic made it increasingly difficult to keep our clothes on, and we both exhaled in relief as the car rolled to a stop outside an exquisite apartment building on the Upper East Side.

The car door opened and I climbed out, bashfully thanking the driver. Grayson pulled me close, hiding the bulge in his pants as we walked into the building.

“Mr. Harlow,” the doorman greeted, and tipped his hat at me. “Miss.”

Grayson nodded and pushed me forward before I had a chance to acknowledge him. He pressed the button of the elevator and it opened immediately.

We stood on either side of the rising cube, watching each other. Grayson’s eyes narrowed like he was sizing up his prey and my body heated at the thought of being devoured by him. The ding of the elevator sliced through the tension and I followed Grayson towards the grand entrance of his apartment. He swiped his card and opened the door, motioning me inside.

I gasped. I knew he was wealthy, but knowing and seeing it were very different things. I’d seen money before, but this was something else.

“I’d hate to see what your permanent place of residence looks like,” I joked, feeling a little sick inside.

“I don’t have one. I’m on the move too much. This is one of many Harlow properties. Adam’s staying in another one in Midtown.”

My eyelashes fluttered. “So where do you call home?”

He shrugged. “Probably where I grew up.”

“In LA?”

His cheeks grew pink as he lowered his eyes. “Bel Air, to be precise.”

I shook my head and chuckled. Of course he did.

Ambling around the open plan living space that was at least three times the size of mine, I noticed it lacked a personal touch. There was expensive artwork on the stark white walls, but not a photo in sight.

“Are you sure you live here?” I asked. The place was immaculate. There wasn’t a cushion out of place or fingerprint on the glass dining table. How is that even possible?!

The whole place was professionally decorated with ultra-modern furniture and a mono-chrome colour scheme. It reminded me of William Harlow. A façade.

“It’s not exactly my taste, but this makes up for it.” He wandered over to the drawn curtains, and flicked a switch on the wall. The drapes drew apart like the beginning of a stage show, revealing something just as exhilarating. My mouth dropped open as the most picturesque view of Central Park materialised before my eyes.

“Oh my,” I gushed. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

“I used to think that too.”

I turned to find him watching me and my heart somersaulted. “Really?” I asked, raising my brow at his corny line. That totally worked, mind you.

The doorbell rang and Grayson chuckled. “Saved by the bell,” he said, opening the door to the same doorman as before. But this time, he was holding a pizza box.

“Delivery, sir.”

“Thanks, Nigel.” He slipped him a note and closed the door.

My mouth fell open. “Is that what I think it is?”

His eyes sparkled as he grinned, opening the box to reveal my favourite pizza from Lenny’s.

Instead of launching for the pizza, I threw myself at Grayson. Tearing open his shirt as he precariously balanced the precious cargo in one arm.

“Whoa, Josie. Don’t you want to eat first?” He laughed, happily accepting my sudden affection.

“It’s even better reheated.”