I looked up at him. “Where are we going?”
“To your apartment.” Dante jammed the electronic keycard into the slot on the panel and hit the button marked P. As the doors closed, he handed me the card. “You can access the penthouse level with this key. Don’t lose it. The front desk can’t replace it without my authorization code.”
I stuffed the key into my purse. “Can I get upstairs from any elevator in the hotel?”
He shook his head. “For security reasons, you can only enter the penthouse level from this elevator.”
“Do you live on this floor?”
The corner of his mouth curved into a smirk as his dark eyes landed on me. “Yes. But don’t get any ideas.”
I looked at the others. “Do all of you live on this floor?”
Stefan nodded. “I live with Angelo in penthouse four.” He tipped his head at Nico. “Pretty boy lives in penthouse three.”
I laughed. “He’s notthatpretty.”
“Yeah, right?” Angelo pinched Nico’s cheek. “Nicodemus has a face that’s too pretty for mugshots.”
You’re all pretty in different ways.
Dante was cold and cruel, but he had the longest black eyelashes I’d ever seen on a man. They fanned out, making his golden-brown eyes look even bigger. I loved looking at him but was afraid to do it for too long.
Stefan had full lips that pulled up into the sweetest smiles. Well, sweet for a cold-blooded killer. With one look, he could disarm you while melting your panties. His twin had an adorable dimple on his left cheek and a long, deep scar on the other. He was sexy, deadly, and slightly terrifying.
When the doors opened, I got up from the bench. We stepped into a lavish hallway with at least a dozen armed men posted up and down the corridor.
What the fuck?
Nico tapped me on the back and guided me to the right. There were five doors, two down the left side of the hall. The one at the farthest end had the most guards, so I assumed that was their father’s penthouse.
We walked past the doors marked with a three, four, and then five.
My new place.
Dante opened the door with a master keycard and guided me inside the massive apartment with marble floors and expensive art on the walls.
“Wow, this is nicer than my dad’s house,” I commented, staring in awe at my new home. “This is where I’m living?” I turned to look at Dante. “Alone?”
He nodded. “If you’re going to work for the kings, you get treated like a queen.”
“Do all of your employees get a penthouse?”
“No.” He snickered. “You have the single most important job of all our employees. The risk comes with perks.”
We entered a large living room. It was an open concept, with the kitchen and dining room flowing from one room to the next. French doors sat between floor-length windows and opened onto a patio with a pool and spa.
“Where is my dad’s apartment?”
“He has a hotel suite two floors below us.”
I wondered why I got a penthouse while their dad’s oldest friend and money manager slept in a hotel suite.
“Who lives in penthouses one and two?”
“Our dad lives in penthouse one,” Stefan said. “And Dante is in two. But I wouldn’t recommend going anywhere near either of their places. Not without an invitation.”
“Not like you’d get past security,” Angelo added.