He chuckles as he heads off into the apartment.
Ourapartment.
I need to get used to saying that. It’s been a strange couple of days. He wasn’t here the first evening I moved in. He was out doing some campaigning somewhere, and by the time I heard him come in, I was already in bed. Although he left me a new home card addressed to ‘Mrs. Walker’. I swear he actually believes he’s funny. It’s a good job he isn’t running for the role of comedian instead of mayor.
Tonight is our second night, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him. I preferred having that bit of time here alone, if I’m honest. It gave me time to snoop. I’ve been in this penthouse before. Even though I work in the hotel side of The Songbird, I still come into the residences frequently to see Maria. And I help arrange stays for Griffin’s family and friends when they visit and aren’t going to stay in the hotel.
The apartment is furnished with sweeping city views from its corner position. It’s breathtaking up here. And luckily, it has four bedrooms. All with private showers. Which means that Reed and I don’t have the awkward morning walk to the bathroom to contend with.
I peeked into his room earlier. I couldn’t help it. The only things of his around the furnished living space are some political looking documents and a pair of reading glasses, which I’ve never seen him wear. It was hardly enough to work out whether I’ve unknowingly shacked up with a serial killer or not. His bedroom, on the other hand, from the small peek I had from the doorway, was an Aladdin’s cave for clues about the real Reed Walker.
Everything was neat and orderly, which matches his professional personality. But it was the acoustic guitar and photos that interested me the most. I have never once heard him mention he plays guitar. Maybe he doesn’t, and it’s just a décor thing. Like those people who have grand pianos because they look amazing, but they can’t even play chopsticks on them. And the photos were sweet. His parents and grandparents, I assume, judging by the resemblance. And there was one of him with a woman with long, flowing chestnut brown hair and gray eyes. I’m assuming his twin sister, who he’s mentioned in passing before.
Afterward, I felt a little guilty for looking. But he left the door open, and I have to walk past his room on the way to mine, so I wasn’treallypoking around. And besides, it’s made me feel a little better about this weird situation. I was starting to wonder what the hell I had agreed to when I was unpacking my things.
“Harley?” Reed calls from the living area. “Where are all these pink strands coming from? Don’t tell me you’ve got a cotton plant called Colin somewhere that needs to be told what a good fluffer he is in order not to de-pot himself.”
I snort out a laugh as I head into the vast living space in search of him. My step falters as I round the corner and see him sitting on the large sectional couch with his glasses on.
Thick, dark frames, below thick waves of rich brown hair.
It’s definitely a step up from my previous neighbor at my apartment, who used to go down the hallway to collect his mail in just his robe, which would miraculously unfasten itself on far too many occasions.
“Oh, these?” He smiles as he sees me looking and then takes them off and rubs his eyes. “I wear them when I’m doing a lot of reading.”
“More policies?” I sink down next to him on the light beige seat and glance over at the paperwork. The words ‘Sexual Assault’ jump out at me.
“Yeah. Always more to read up on.” He shuffles the papers, moving them to the side, and then holds up a tuft of pink between his fingers. One of the threads is glittery.
“They’re going to be bald soon, I swear.” I tut as I reach around the side of the sofa and grab my slippers, giving them a shake in the air. More pink and glittery strands fly out, floating in the air for a beat before clinging to Reed’s suit pants.
“It looks like you killed the pink panther.”
I laugh as I slide my feet into them and let out a delighted sigh.
“They might be a bit bright,” I say as I look down at my fluffy feet. “But they’re so warm.”
“Harley. It’s not even winter. And we have heating if you need it.”
Wehave heating.
The way he says it so casually has me sitting forward on the edge of the seat. I suppose we are a ‘we’ to the outside world. Well, we will be once I start making public appearances with Reed and our ‘relationship’ becomes public knowledge. But in here, where it’s just the two of us?Wesends all sorts of weird sensations rushing around my body.
Me and Reed Walker a ‘we’?
Nope. No way.It’s only pretend.
“I think I’ll just keep my slippers, thanks,” I say as I get up. “I’m going to meet Suze for dinner tonight. She’s got a rare night off as Curt is taking the kids out, so we intend to make the most of it and try out a new Thai restaurant we’ve been wanting to visit.”
Reed chuckles. Even that is deep and smooth, like his voice. “Have a nice night with Suze.”
“Thanks, I will—” I turn back, and he’s put his glasses on again. His dark brows furrow as he reads the paperwork in his hand. His shirt sleeves are rolled up his forearms, showing tanned skin and prominent veins. I swallow down a weird fluttering in my stomach.
He glances up and locks eyes with me. A second or two passes, and neither of us says anything. I stare back and heat swirls low in my core.
No, you don’t, Harley.
This is not good. I cannot develop something akin to Stockholm syndrome while I am here with him. It’s for the cameras only. It’s all for show. His dick has seen more pussy than a gynecologist. Something I need to remember.