Walking through the open floor plan, I see this is a one-bedroom house. My initial assessment of the size isn’t exactly correct. The hallways alone make this home double, if not triple, the size of my apartment in the city.
The decoration is serene, although not over the top. You can tell each piece has been selected for a calming element. Grays, whites, and light blue accent pieces. The blue reminds me of the ocean.
Who do they intend to have live in this unit? Regardless of the architecture spin my boss wants for the magazine, this is a perfect opportunity to ask hard-hitting questions. I want details on why Cain thinks the uber-rich need another playground when there are so many other people that need homes in this country. Isn’t artificial intelligence becoming too powerful to take over our home spaces?
However, all the litany of questions on my itinerary has now been pushed back by Cain. I’ll dig back in tomorrow when I have his attention again.
When I first arrived, or hell, on the ride up, I couldn’t even fathom why I would be needed to stay so long here. But after seeing the immense size of this small home alone plus the three buildings in the center, I almost don’t think a week will be enough.
The bedroom is beautiful. The wall to the left of the bed is floor-to-ceiling windows. The bed is high and fluffy with big white pillows and blankets. It looks like a cloud. And the view gives the feeling of floating above the tree line.
I place my laptop bag down and spot my suitcase in the corner of the room. I also notice it’s empty; someone unpacked it for me. I stand speechless for a moment. That’s kind of creepy. It feels like I’m being watched. Am I?
No.
If I get freaked out now, I’ll never write an unbiased article. Inhaling deeply, I decide to embrace the luxuries this place has to offer, despite my initial reaction.
Walking over to the closet, I step inside and find that my clothes are already hanging.
Since I don’t have to unpack, I can now make my way into the bathroom. Upon entering, I let out a long-drawn-out sigh.
Scratch out my previous comment. My whole apartment could fit into this room, and I’ll be here for almost a whole week. This is crazy.
I might not love my job, but this . . .
Yep. This has turned into a real perk.
When I first heard about the project today, I wasn’t all that excited, but ever since I stepped onto the property, an overwhelming urge to do well despite not originally caring ran through me. I’m eager to do a good job on this project, which baffles me because I do hate the bland topics I write about currently.
It’s not about the article. It’s about The Elysian.
Something completely new and original, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that Cain Archer makes it all the better.
Something about Cain and this place demands my best work.
Taking a deep breath, I can see him in my mind, standing by the window. He isn’t supposed to be this charming. I wasn’t prepared.
But he is.
His grin.
That damn smirk.
Hell, when his lips part, I swear it makes my legs give out. His looks are dangerous, and his charm is downright lethal. I can’t make the mistake of lusting after the head architect of this project.
Pulling the glass shower door open, I turn on the water, then strip down and get inside.
The hot water works its way down my body, instantly relaxing me from a hard day of travel.
I’m not sure how much time I stand there. How long I allow my muscles to uncoil, but eventually, when my fingers begin to prune, I shut the water off and step out of the shower, grabbing the fluffy white towel hanging from the hook on the wall.
Then I pull it around my body and take care to wipe off the water, all while slipping my feet into the slippers and robe that I also find hanging.
I can get used to this place.
Well, I can’t. Not really.
This is only temporary.
It won’t be long before I go back to my normal life, writing about mundane topics.
But, for the time being, I’m going to enjoy every minute this impromptu story has given me.
It doesn’t take me very long to get ready. Instead of blow-drying my hair, I let it air dry. I have plenty of time, and as I do, I put on a light dusting of makeup.
He won’t be here for an hour.
I wonder what dinner will be like.
What will we talk about?
Will we jump right into the interview?
He did say we would start tomorrow. But still, that doesn’t mean he meant the questions.
Do I prepare them? Bring a recorder, just in case? I’m not sure. I don’t want to insult him if tonight is just casual, but I don’t want to be ill-prepared either. I could use my phone if he allows my questions.