The doorbell rang at five to ten, exactly twenty minutes after I texted Kai my address.
My heart flipped when I opened the door and found him standing in the hall, hair tousled and cheeks ruddy from the wind. Seeing him in person for the first time in almost a week was like taking the first gasp of air after holding my breath for too long.
Cool euphoria flooded my lungs. “Hi,” I said breathlessly.
A smile curved his lips. “Hi.”
“Did anyone ever tell you your punctuality is terrifying?”
“Not in so many words, no.” He gave a casual shrug. “If it’s an issue, I can leave and come back—”
“Don’t you dare.” I grabbed his wrist and dragged him, laughing, into the apartment. “And don’t look so pleased with yourself. I just didn’t want my apartment cleanup to go to waste.”
Kai looked even more pleased. “You cleaned up for me? I’m flattered.”
Blood rose to my neck and chest. If he touched me right now, he’d probably burn himself. It would serve him right. “I didn’t say that. It was due for some tidying up anyway. The timing is pure coincidence.”
“I see.”
“Anyway.” I ignored the knowing gleam in his eyes and deliberately turned my back to him. I swept an arm around the freshly tidied space.
“Welcome to my humble abode. Six hundred square feet of rent-controlled luxury, right in the heart of the East Village.”
I’d lucked out on my studio apartment. A friend of a friend had lived here before they moved back to Arizona, and I’d snagged it before it went on the market. Sixteen hundred dollars for a downtown location with decent natural lighting, in-building laundry, and no roach or rat infestation? By New York standards, it was a steal.
Kai came up beside me and surveyed the little touches I’d added to make the apartment homier—the collection of shot glasses I’d acquired on my travels, the electric keyboard stashed beneath the window, the oil portrait Vivian and Sloane had commissioned as a joke for one of my birthdays. It depicted Monty as a Victorian aristocrat wearing a white ruffled collar. It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen, and I loved it.
The studio was probably the size of Kai’s closet, but I was inordinately proud of it. It was mine, at least for as long as I could pay rent, and I’d made it my home in a city that chewed up and spit out starry-eyed newcomers faster than they could unpack their suitcases.
“This apartment is very you,” Kai observed, his warm, amused gaze alighting on the golden vase of peacock feathers by the door.
Something fluttered in my chest. “Thank you.”
Then, because it would be rude for me not to introduce the true lord of the house, I walked over to the vivarium and retrieved the ball python lounging amid the greenery.
“Meet Monty.” I’d bought him a few months after I moved to New York. Ball pythons were incredibly low maintenance and cheap to care for, which made them perfect for my bartender schedule and salary. Monty wasn’t as cuddly as a cat or dog, but it was nice to come home to a pet, even if all he did was eat, drink, and sleep.
He slithered over my shoulder and peered curiously at Kai, whose mouth flickered with a smile.
“Monty the python. Cute.”
“My father was a big Life of Brian fan,” I admitted. I wasn’t as devoted a fan, but I liked puns and my father would’ve gotten a hoot out of it, had he still been alive.
“Interesting. I figured you’d be a Pomeranian girl.” “Because I’m adorable with great hair?”
“No, because you’re small and yappy.” Kai’s smile graduated into a laugh when I swatted his arm.
“Be nice, or I’ll sic Monty on you.”
“Quite a threat, but I’d be more concerned if he were a viper instead of a friendly ball python,” Kai drawled.
As if to prove his point, Monty rubbed his head against Kai’s outstretched hand.
“Traitor,” I grumbled. “Who’s the one that feeds you?” But I couldn’t suppress my own smile at the adorable sight.
Most people were terrified of snakes because they thought they were ugly or venomous or evil. Some snakes were, but judging an entire species by a few bad apples was like judging all humans by the serial killer population. It was grossly unfair, and I had a soft spot for anyone who treated Monty respectfully instead of looking like they wanted to call animal control on him the first chance they got.
After a few minutes, I placed Monty back in his vivarium, where he yawned and happily curled into a ball. He was well socialized and had a higher tolerance for being held than other snakes, but I tried not to stress him out with too much contact from strangers.
“How was the retreat?” I washed my hands and turned back to Kai, who rinsed after me. “Four days of leadership training sounds like a special torture method conjured in the depths of corporate hell.”
They couldn’t pay me enough to attend.
Well…okay, I’d do it for a million dollars, but no less.
“It’s not that bad,” Kai said with another laugh. “There was a session on scope diversification and consolidation that was quite illuminating.”
My nose scrunched with distaste. “I can’t believe I’m having sex with a man who uses the term ‘scope diversification and consolidation.’ Is this what dating in New York has come to?”
A wicked grin stole across his face. “You weren’t complaining when you were screaming my name just a few nights ago.”
If someone told me two months ago that stuffy Kai Young would be smiling at me like that, I would’ve asked what drug they were on. Now, I struggled and failed to tamp down a blush.
“Don’t let it get to your head,” I said loftily. “You’ll have to replicate it before you start bragging. Who knows? You could be a one-hit wonder.”
“Perhaps.” He stepped closer to me. My heart rate ratcheted up, and the air shifted, turning hazy with anticipation. “Shall we test your theory?”
Here’s the thing about humans. We’ll almost always throw aside common sense in favor of instant gratification.
I knew eating pizza every week wasn’t healthy, but I still did it.
I knew I should write every morning before binge-watching Netflix, but I didn’t.
And I knew getting involved with Kai was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas, but I’d been drowning alone for years, and being with him was the only time I could breathe.
I didn’t resist when he kissed me or when those clever, nimble hands removed our clothes with a few deft tugs and pulls. My own hands joined in, hungrily mapping bare skin and sculpted muscle.
Our first time had been explosive, the culmination of months of buildup. This was sweet and languorous, unconstrained by fear and heightened by our week apart. The night stretched before us in an endless canvas of possibility, and we painted it with kisses and sighs until pleasure swept them aside with one bold stroke.
When it was over, I sank deeper into the bed while Kai rolled off me, my limbs heavy with languid warmth.
“Don’t tell Viv and Sloane,” I said, “but you’re the best houseguest I’ve ever had. Two-hit wonder. Ten out of ten recommend.”
I didn’t care if I inflated his ego further. I was too busy floating on a cloud of post-coital bliss.
His laugh made me smile. Every uninhibited reaction I pulled out of him was another thread unraveled. The mask was falling away, revealing more and more of the real Kai, and I liked him more than I cared to admit.
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
Despite the humor crinkling his eyes, I sensed an underlying tension in his voice. A notch formed between his brows, faint but clearly visible.
“Everything okay?” I asked. “You seem more stressed than someone who just had sex should be. Depending on your answer, I’m either extremely offended or somewhat worried.”
“It’s not you,” he said. “It’s work.”
“Of course it is. Would you be a New York businessman if you weren’t worried about work all the time?” I quipped before growing serious. “Is it DigiStream?”
“That’s part of it.” There was a long pause. Then softly, so softly I almost didn’t hear him, he said, “My mother said I might lose the CEO vote.”
The admission shocked me out of my sex-induced stupor.
I shot up, the sheet sliding off my chest in my haste. His face brightened a fraction, then fell when I yanked the sheet back up. I would’ve found it adorable had I not been so indignant.
“Why? You’re the best person for the job!” I argued, even though I knew nothing about what he actually did or who the other candidates were. I simply couldn’t imagine anyone smarter or more capable than Kai.
Besides, he was a Young. His last name glowed so large and bright on the company skyscraper that it could be seen for miles. How could he lose?
“Office politics.” He gave me a brief overview of the situation, which didn’t lessen my ire.
“That’s stupid,” I said when he finished talking. “Why do rich people like having their asses kissed so much? Doesn’t it chafe after a while?”
The side of Kai’s mouth twitched. “Excellent questions, darling. I assume the answers are their ego and yes, it does chafe, but they don’t care.” His fingers laced with mine over the sheets. “However, I appreciate your umbrage on my behalf.”
“Your mom could be wrong,” I said, though it seemed unlikely. Making nice with self-centered board members wasn’t the end of the world, but it was annoying Kai had to resort to flattery when his record should’ve spoken for itself. “Did you ever figure out why she’s stepping down so early?”
“No. She won’t tell me until the time is right. Which, knowing her, could be never.”
“What about your father? What does he think?” Kai never talked about him. While Leonora Young ran her media empire in the spotlight, her husband was a far more mysterious figure. I’d only seen one or two photos of him.
“He’s in Hong Kong. He runs a financial services business there, separate from the Young Corporation. My parents are separated,” Kai clarified when my brows winged up. His mother lived in London, which was a long way from Hong Kong. “They have been for ten years, but they make the occasional public appearance together when necessary. Their separation is an open secret.”
“That’s a long time for a separation with no divorce.”
“They resent each other too much to be together but love each other too much to break up. Plus, dividing their assets would be too complicated,” Kai said dryly. “It’s not a healthy situation for anyone involved, but Abigail and I are used to it, and it’s pretty tame as far as dysfunctional families go.”
Considering Vivian’s father blackmailed Dante into marrying her before they actually fell in love, I’d say that was an understatement.
“Why did they separate?” I curled up against Kai’s chest, letting his voice and steady heartbeat lull me into contentment.
I preferred nights out more than nights in, but I could lie here and listen to him talk forever. He rarely opened up about his personal life, so I wasn’t taking a single second of this for granted.
“My mother worked too much, my father grew resentful, so on and so forth.” Kai sounded detached, as if he were recounting another family’s history instead of his own. “Almost embarrassing, really, how cliché the reason is, but clichés exist for a reason.”
“True,” I murmured. My father had quit his teaching job to raise my brothers and me while my mother worked. He hadn’t resented her, but even he had displayed the occasional flash of irritation when she’d missed yet another dinner or outing in the early days of her career.
“Enough about me,” Kai said. “How did the rest of your writing session go?”
“Um…good,” I hedged. I’d tried drafting in the secret room, but as expected, I couldn’t get much done in the silence. Blasting music through my headphones had helped only a little bit. “Like I said, I did more brainstorming than writing. But that counts too.”
“Hmm.” Kai dipped his head and trailed a lazy kiss over my shoulder. “I remember you mentioning something about a detailed sex scene…”
Fresh heat kindled in my stomach. “And I remember I’m not telling you a single thing about it because you were so rude,” I said primly.
“My sincerest apologies. I shouldn’t have offended you so.” He stroked my breast with his free hand. Pleasure lanced through me and manifested in the form of a gasp. “Perhaps there’s a way I can make it up to you…”
There was, and he did, over and over again until the stars blinked out and the first murky hint of dawn crept through the window.
