Page 10 of Vicious Arrangement (Alpha Billionaire Daddies #7)
Chapter Ten
ARIA
There’s no way in hell Angus is sleeping anywhere but inside. I put off moving in for a few days because I have back-to-back shifts. But though I’m dead on my feet on Sunday afternoon when I finish my shift, I start packing.
Gramps is picking a subletter, and they’ll get a subsidized deal.
But that’s his choice, not mine. If I owned the building, I’d do the same, but if I were finding someone for him, I know I’d charge more than he would.
Probably not much, but… I don’t want him ripping himself off.
He has taxes, maintenance and everything else that goes into this building.
This is one of the properties he owns outright that has nothing to do with Sanderson’s.
I’ve booked a moving van and arranged storage for my furniture if the subletter doesn’t want it, and there are some things I inherited from a mom and dad I never knew that I don’t want in someone else’s hands.
Don’t get me wrong, the things that make up my apartment, whether rescued from the street, thrift store discoveries, or regular purchases, are things I love, but I don’t think I’d shed a tear over them.
The art deco coffee table that was mom’s, yes. Dad’s bookshelf another yes.
But I can’t see someone like Noah making room for my things. He expects me to put Angus out on a balcony in the heat, the ice and snow.
My clothes are packed, toiletries, books, all the things I need, including everything of Angus’s, other than his bed. I’ll take that tomorrow on my day off.
I think about texting Noah to let him know I’ll be there at eight a.m. tomorrow, but I don’t even want to do that.
We had sex.
I shudder, close my eyes, and flop on the sofa, Angus coming up and resting his doggy head on my stomach as he sits next to me and whines.
“You did good, though if there’s a bone to pick, you should’ve interrupted before it happened.”
He whines again.
“If, I said.”
We had sex and it… blew my mind. Even now, it sends shudders through me, little ripples of memory that sparks deliciously. And I ache for more.
It’s not going to happen, though. It was a drunken one night wonder and that’s that.
“Pizza?” I ask Angus.
He barks.
Pizza it is.
After all, it might be the very last time.
I hold Angus’s leash as we stand on the pavement outside the two old doors and press the buzzer again.
The doors are cracked white paint, the building one of those cast iron ones that make SoHo SoHo.
Historical and protected, if he’s got a balcony, then he must have gone through hoops to have it allowed.
Because even though I never went into the world of property development, I know the scant basics.
Historical places are hard to get changes done to, especially the facades.
It happens, but it costs.
Then again, what am I saying?
Noah is loaded.
And the kind of loaded asshole who wants more.
I press again when a voice startles me. “Yes?”
Female, and I almost double-check I rang the right one.
“Is this Noah Templeton’s? Floor four?”
“Yes, you are the wife.”
The wife. I grit my teeth. “I’m Aria Sanderson, yes.”
“Go to the elevator, I’ll bring you up here.”
I bite back a sigh and prop the door with my backpack, and then push in my three wheeled cases and wave goodbye to the nice cab driver who carried them to the door for me. He smiles and gives me a thumb’s up, then has his cab filled immediately by two well-heeled people.
Angus behaves and trots in after me. We both pause at the old, worn staircase that needs to be at the very least painted, and the dirty and scuffed postage stamp foyer.
But just ahead is the shiny lift, and I press the button.
When it opens, I repeat the process of holding it there, and shoving all the cases in, Angus giving it a dubious look.
I have to tug his leash to get him to come into the giant steel box.
Once in, I wait.
And wait.
There are two penthouses, but I assume his is the one with the key slot next to it.
The button lights up, and soon we’re on our way.
We step from the grunge of downstairs and the steel of the box which has its own share of scratches and dings, into a different world.
It’s next-level shit. The floor is expansive, and it is the entire floor the elevator’s in the middle, and it’s open plan making the place bigger.
A breeze and the sounds of New York float in through gauzy white curtains that draw Angus’s immediate attention as they flirt and billow, floor to ceiling where it seems the glass wall’s missing.
The elevator has opened into a grand room, complete with a baby grand in the corner, a splash of black in this world of white, chrome and cream.
There are designer sofas and chairs and a marble coffee table.
To the left is a dining area, formal, separated by a series of open shelves that let in light and their uneven tops allow the rooms to be both connected and separate.
There’s a huge gleaming kitchen to the right.
I think the fridge is built in to match the white and chrome cabinetry, the island is marble, and the waterfall design is curved. I don’t even want to know how much it cost.
The stove is Wolf. And I don’t see a sink.
I want to explore. I want to run.
Gramps is rich. I could be if I chose to live off the inheritance I have, but there’s a difference between rich and filthy.
A woman, young and pretty, with her hair pulled back and in a uniform—thank fuck it’s not French maid or I’d be out of there, comes out of a room that’s hidden in plain sight behind the kitchen with an armful of cleaning products that she sets down into a clean square bucket I missed.
Black, because even the cleaning things are color coordinated in Noah’s world.
She wipes her hands on her trousers and comes up to me.
“Sorry you were taking so long I needed to get some things done. The personal chef’s a little late, so it’s thrown me off today. I’m Carrie. My husband, Alonso, is the gardener, one of the best in the Tri-State area. He’s the reason this place always looks like it’s ready for a photo shoot.”
I must look nonplussed as she points to the billowing curtains. “That’s one of the wrap around terraces. The bedroom level is even better, and there’s an outdoor kitchen, fruit trees and roses. And a sauna and a hot tub. Have a look.”
Curiosity gets the better of me as I head over to the curtains, pulling them back and stepping out, not onto a balcony but an entire outdoor area, the kind of place that could fit a number of studio apartments easily. There are tiles, a wooden deck, even a grassed area that Angus attacks.
I can see other buildings, rooftops, and a nice view of parts of Manhattan. Upstairs must be even better.
“If you’re finished,” Noah says behind me.
I turn. And my heart flutters then sinks.
I don’t want to be excited to see him, I don’t want to yearn for the dimple. I don’t want to think about the two orgasms he gave me.
“You met the housekeeper, Carrie. She comes by three times a week. Her husband too. The personal chef, Andre is here twice a week. There’s maintenance, and the cleaner, she does all the laundry sends out dry cleaning, someone does the floors, too.
And here…” He pulls out a card, holding it in the air giving me no other option but to go up and take it.
“This is the number for your personal car service. Use it.”
“Because you care?”
He just turns and goes back inside, straightening his tie, and makes himself a coffee from the white machine on the counter that I didn’t see. It’s white and chrome and is a professional thing that immediately scares me.
“No, because you’re my wife, and I expect a certain level of decorum from that. You’ll take a car.” He then looks at me. “Coffee?”
I want one. God, I want one. “Only if I get to throw it in your face.”
“That some kind of weird fetish of yours?”
That, I ignore. “I’m meant to take the car to and from the hospital.”
“About that…”
“I’m not giving up my career for you.”
He sighs. “Maybe there’s a better hospital, private. Or do you work at one?”
“I work at Quentin.”
“Oh.”
“And I’m staying there. Nursing is nursing.
Just because a place is for rich fucks doesn’t make it more glamorous.
” I hate him, I really do. He might be hot, the best sex I’ve had, and charming when he feels like it, but he’s still an arrogant asshole.
Judging by this soulless, white palace he chose to create here in SoHo, he’s also comfortable with being a dick about his money.
Servants, cars, people doing everything for him. Yeah… He’s the worst.
His gaze flicks to Angus, who’s left a trail of dirty paw prints, then to me, and finally my cases.
“That all you own? What are you, vagabond adjacent?”
“I pretty much spend half my life in scrubs. I don’t need much but a good bed, a good TV and sleep.” I need food, Katie, Angus, and Gramps, too, but… “This was your idea, remember? You forced this, threatened my grandfather. If you’ve changed your mind, I’m more than happy to go back to my life.”
“Hell no. We can make each other miserable.”
“Great,” I say.
“Good,” he adds. Then at a sound of growling, he turns, and I do too.
“Angus!”
My dog’s dirtied his white couch and is currently standing on it, ripping a cream cushion into shreds like he’s found his worst enemy.
Angus looks at me, whines, then goes back to it.
I clap. “Angus, no! Here. Now!”
With another whine, he reluctantly pours himself off the sofa and trots over to me, catching the look on Noah’s face and pressing against me, growling up at him.
I know exactly how he feels.
Noah points at Angus. “That… vile beast is only allowed in your room and outside. I’ll get him shoes he can wear inside. And when I say can, I mean will.”
Relief floods me at the mention of my own room. We hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements, and after the other night… our wedding night… I thought… hoped…no, dreaded we’d be sharing a bed.
I don’t want that.