We walk over to unit 1200, and I hand Perry the food bags so I can fish out my keyring. After Win and I made our deal, he grabbed the keys from Perry and put them on the keyring himself. With shaking hands, I unlock the door and open it. Upon entering, I’m hit with the scent of orange and cinnamon, as if someone who lived here before liked to bake.
“This is . . . quaint,” Perry says, taking in the small apartment with a critical, Constantine eye. “And unexpected.”
The studio apartment is centered around a double bed beneath a large window overlooking more buildings. Bookcases line one wall, and a desk is on the other. There’s a loveseat in one corner of the room and a coffee table. No television. Two bar stools sit beneath a small bar area that overlooks the kitchen big enough for a fridge, stove, and coffee maker. There are two doors between the loveseat and bookcase. The open one reveals a darkened bathroom.
At least my whore apartment is cute.
And quiet.
I can almost imagine myself sitting at the desk working on my college coursework come fall.
Because Winston will be a thing of the past and you’ll live here full time?
I tear my gaze from the desk and toss my purse down on the loveseat. While Perry pulls food out of the bags, I root around in the stocked kitchen looking for plates and silverware. Inside the fridge, I locate a couple of bottles of water.
“You don’t have to live here,” Perry says once we settle at the bar and he’s heaping fried rice onto his plate. “I can go with you and look for a place you like better if you want.”
“This is fine.”
“Come on, Ash. Talk to me. You’re too quiet.”
I set my fork down and dart my eyes his way. Even though he’s the younger, less put together version of Winston, he’s still a Constantine. Handsome and capable. Probably normal. Some girl will be lucky to have Perry one day. If I wasn’t addicted to depravity, I would go for someone like him.
Unfortunately, dark princes with fucked-up fantasies are more my thing.
“Do you think if we took away all the money and gifts and whore apartment,” I say, wincing at the last part, “we’d still make it? Do you think he’d still be interested in a poor maid half his age?”
Perry laughs, boyish and loud. “You both have it so bad for each other.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” I elbow him. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” He shrugs and gives me a soft smile. “Winston cares about you. Not what you can do for him. Any idiot with two eyes can see that. Hell, it’s why Leo Morelli tried to threaten him.” I shudder at the mention of Leo, but Perry doesn’t seem to notice. “You’re important to my brother. Just because he’s deluded himself into thinking otherwise doesn’t make it any less true.”
“The odds are stacked against us,” I throw back. “We’re not a match. Just ask Nate.”
Perry’s brows furl as he studies me in the penetrative way Winston has perfected. Damn these Constantines and their ability to see right inside my head. “Nate’s an idiot. And you think this would be the first time Winston had the odds stacked against him and didn’t come out on top?” He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Everyone expected him to fail when Dad died. Did he? No, he came out swinging, not only growing Halcyon, but making sure every single person in this city knew he was in charge. My brother loves a challenge, and you my friend, are the most challenging woman I know.”
As we finish our meal, I mull over his words. It’s just an apartment. I don’t have to stay here, but I do admit it gives me comfort that I have someplace to go if I ever need to. Winston is a complicated man, but he’s worth knowing inside and out. He’s worth fighting for, even if I have to fight him.
I’m not like that slutty princess Meredith or the other Stepford Wife wannabes in this city.
I’m Ash Elliott.
Anti-princess.
Not-so-charming villain lover.
The girl who also loves a challenge.
Win and I are an unlikely match born of filth and debauchery, but when you dust us off, we shine up nicely.
Perry finishes up his food and starts to clean up. I’m still thinking over our conversation when my phone buzzes. I’d turned it back on earlier, and I’m not surprised to find a text from Leo.
Asshole Stalker: Well?
Me: There’s a lot of emails about the building you bought.
Lies.
Asshole Stalker: To who? What did they say?
Me: Some chick named Meredith.
I’m going to hell for that one.
Asshole Stalker: Are they going to try and get it back?
Me: It’s Winston. What do you think?
I’m lying through my teeth while trying to make it sound legitimate. Leo is calculating and terrifying. Not sure if he’ll buy it. If he asks for proof, I’m shit out of luck.