Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
The elevator door glides open and Alfred gestures with his hand for me to enter. I snap back to reality.
“Alfred…” I reach out and grab his arm.
The corners of his mouth dip to a frown and his eyes widen.
“I have a confession to make.”
He pats my hand and his anxiety disappears, replaced with a warm smile. “Say no more. I already know.”
“You do?”
“Of course. And don’t worry…Miss Sims.” He leans in and drops his voice to a whisper. “Your secret is safe with me.” He straightens and winks at me. “Mr. Swagger won’t be back until noon tomorrow. You’ll have the place to yourself. Enjoy it.”
Is it possible that this man knows I’m not Miss Sims?
Does he often let strangers invade this man’s home without question?
What kind of person is this Alfred?
I step inside the elevator. The doors close and I skyrocket to the top of the building so fast, I have to reach out and hold onto the railing for support.
I hate elevators. There’s something terrifying about being in an enclosed space, dangling above the ground in a heavy metal box suspended in the air by nothing but wires and pulleys and…what if the power goes out?
My nose finds the wall. I close my eyes and hold on tight, humming my favorite song to keep from passing out. Finally, there’s the telltale ding and the doors are opened. I step out into a small hall with a table decorated with the biggest damn vase of flowers I’ve ever seen. A solid wood door with a sleek, golden handle stands beyond the table.
Without the pressure of a driver or a concierge or a man and his dog, I have the time to stop and think about this shit.
If I open that door, I could go to jail. And though I know jail is a possibility in the event Luke Duchanan catches me on his property, trespassing won’t be near as serious of an offense as breaking and entering.
I call Emily.
“Yeah?”
Damn. She sounds awful.
“Hey Em. How you holding up?”
She sniffs a couple times and I hear what might be a laptop closing. “Luke just posted a picture of him and his new slut on Facebook.”
“Yeah? Well, she’s ugly.”
“No she’s not.”
“Want me to punch her in the face? Make her ugly?”
Emily sighs then blows her nose. “No. They’re on a date. Looks like our prank isn’t going to work. They’ll probably be out all night.” Her voice cracks on the last word.
“I can still do it tomorrow.” The hopeful hint in my tone does nothing to ease her. She wants me to abort. To come home so we can drink wine and eat chocolate. But I can’t leave. My curiosity demands I find out what’s on the other side of the door. Research demands it. The good Lord does too.
My eyes zone in on the golden handle of the door. It shimmers like an angel’s halo.
Things like this don’t happen without help from a man like God. Maybe this is His plan for me. Maybe that dog was in that park for a reason. Maybe the owner was an angel who chased me to the very place I needed to be. That car? It wasn’t waiting for Miss Sims. It was waiting for me. Alfred? He may be an angel too. What if Mr. Swagger is my That Guy?
Now, I understand.
I’ve been divinely favored.
I’d explain this to Emily, but she just wouldn’t get it. She’d tell me I needed to stop allowing my imagination to take over. Why did I even call her? She’s way too emotional to be of any help.
My mind is made up.
“I gotta go, Em. I’m at my room.”
“You have a room? When did you do that? Why? How?”
I roll my eyes at her questions.
Emily likes to stick to a plan. She’s one of those people who keep a calendar. She never strays from it. If Jesus shows up on the same Thursday as her dentist appointment, I have no doubt she’ll tell him he has to wait. “Sorry, Jesus. You’re not on the calendar.”
I don’t own a calendar. My plans change depending on the conditions. I’m supposed to wait out my flight in a crowded airport. Fate has decided that I stay in a luxurious apartment instead. The circumstances have been altered in my favor and I refuse to ignore them and deny myself this opportunity.
“Penelope…”
“What?”
“You can’t afford a room.”
“Sure I can.”
“How?”
“I called and got a credit increase on my card.” A lie. But the truth will bring questions I don’t want to answer. Which will turn into more lies.
“But…how?”
“Don’t question the unexplainable, Em. Just go with it, okay? I have to check-in now. I’ll call you tomorrow. Fuck Luke Duchanan.”
There’s a pause before she releases a breath. “Fuck Luke Duchanan.”
I end the call.
Put my hand on the door.