9
Without talking, we made our way out of the park and across the street to the Plaza entrance. He didn’t ask if I’d ever been here before. He didn’t have to. Xavier knew I’d grown up in a distinctly different part of the city, one without golden towers and gilded lobbies. I was accustomed to Nonna’s stained crochet work, not satin upholstery, grubby bannisters instead of marble columns.
“You’re in the penthouse?” I asked after Xavier pressed the button marked PH in the elevator.
The doors closed. “It’s the best. Or so my assistant says.”
“Do you always have to have the best?”
He looked me over, a slow, lazy progression that seemed to touch every inch of my body before his mouth pressed together in mild anticipation. “I do now.”
Robbed of my words, I couldn’t help staring at his mouth. At the hint of a smirk playing over its soft fullness.
He leaned down. I sucked in a breath. Big mistake. That sweet scent of his was absolutely overpowering in such a small space. I mean, it made my bosoms heave. Like heave, like an actual eighteenth-century heroine begging for her chemise to be torn apart. Screw Jane Austen and give me Julia Quinn. Right now I was smack in the middle of a bodice ripper, which made me the lustful virgin.
Well, not quite a virgin.
But before he could do what we were both clearly dying for, we were interrupted yet again when the elevator doors opened into the biggest hotel room I’d ever seen. A short, portly gentleman decked in pin-striped trousers, a gray waistcoat, and a jacket that reached his knees stood just inside carrying a gold tray that matched the nameplate affixed to his lapel.
“Your—” greeted the man with an awkward sort of half-bow as we walked in.
“Mr. Parker’s fine,” Xavier barked before he could finish. Then he sighed, almost apologetically. “Thank you, Martin.”
The butler only nodded, unperturbed by his outburst. Xavier accepted one of the cloths on the tray and walked inside, wiping his hands as he went. Nervously, I followed suit. The cloth was damp and warm, scented lightly with lavender. A rich man’s way of washing his hands when he came home from the day.
“Miss?”
I turned to find Martin waiting with his tray outstretched. Xavier’s cloth was already crumpled on one side.
“Oh, um, all right.” I dropped the cloth back on the tray, then turned to Xavier, who was removing his coat.
“Can I get you anything, sir?” asked Martin as I took the moment to walk around the room and examine the gilt rococo designs and velvet curtains. It reminded me a bit of the Met. Some of the fancy picture frames had similar looks to them.
“A bottle of champagne,” Xavier was saying. “What’s the top shelf downstairs?”
“The Palm Court offers the NV Ruinart Blanc de Blancs, sir, at two fifty-five a bottle.”
“Which vintage?”
“I believe they are serving the 2015, sir. If that doesn’t serve, perhaps the sommelier at Daniel’s can provide something adequate.”
Xavier wrinkled his long nose. “Better get a bottle from Daniel’s then. And a filet mignon, while you’re there. Done rare.”
Apparently, the ramen hadn’t been enough either.
I turned and looked out the window toward the vast, dark expanse of the park, not wanting to listen anymore to their conversation. Hearing a man sniff at a bottle of champagne that cost more than two hundred dollars was surreal. To say the least. I was back in that space again. The one where I distinctly felt like I didn’t belong.
Xavier had always been particular, of course. As a chef, he had very specific tastes. But five years ago, they were tastes that could be met just as easily at a hot dog stand in the park as in a five-star restaurant. For the weeks we had seen each other, most of the places we’d eaten had been five dollars a plate. Two-dollar slices. Four-dollar falafel. Cheap, food fit for students, but oh-so-good.
That denim-clad hustler who had sunk his teeth into a gyro had been replaced by this stranger in a three-piece suit. It was clear the world he’d once inhabited wasn’t good enough for him anymore.
The world I lived in. The world our daughter lived in.
I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even notice the pair of hands slipping around my waist until I was pulled against Xavier’s broad body.
“He’s gone,” he informed me as his fingers brushed over the silk and he pressed his nose into my hair. “What are you so absorbed with over here?”
I shuddered as the tip of his nose touched my neck. “I—it’s a different world up here, isn’t it?”