Cole Page 3

I could see her approaching now with not one but two bottles of champagne in her hands. I eyed the one she held out to me.

“Take it.” She linked her elbow through mine as I did, and guided me back through the event she’d organized. “We’re going upstairs to my office, and we’re going to get smashed.”

“What about your clients?”

“I’ve wined and dined with all of them already. They’ll be fine. The staff will take care of them. It’s best friend time.” She pulled me up the stairs and winked over her shoulder, her voice dipping down. “And besides, I’ve already made my evening plans, if you know what I mean. When you go home and I’m feeling lonely—aka horny—I’m supposed to give Bernardo a call.”

I didn’t ask who Bernardo was; she had so many boyfriends. I just smiled and followed.

I would do what she wanted. And when my sides were splitting from laughing too much later on, I’d call a cab. I’d go home, and I’d curl up under my blanket knowing that for one night, the booze would help me sleep.

It took a month to schedule our showing.

Sia had to do it. She scheduled it; then I changed my mind. She scheduled a second one, and a repeat. What was I doing? How could I possibly leave Liam’s home? It was ours. It was his. I couldn’t leave. But after the third time Sia set up a meeting, she made a pitch that I just had to see it. See. Not commit. Not move in right away.

I was still scared shitless, but I agreed. Her slight guilt trip helped, too. She was my best friend, and I was the excuse for her to see the inside of the building. So here I was, finally.

We pulled up to the silver building, and I saw that it wasn’t really silver. It was glass. The entire building was made of windows. As I got out of the cab and craned my head back, looking up, I couldn’t deny that I was already impressed.

Sia grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the building. “Come on. The manager’s expecting us.”

There was no big double or circling door at the entrance like most places had. It had a single black door, instead, which opened for us once we stepped in front of it. I passed through and saw there was no doorknob. I couldn’t imagine using that to get in and out, but once I stepped inside, I realized there was a doorman. His office was right next to the door, and he now stood beside Sia. I looked at him, and he bowed. Bowed. For real—just enough so I saw the top of his greying head.

He straightened back up. “Good afternoon, Ms. Bowman.”

He used my maiden name. I hadn’t been called Bowman for two years—even before Liam and I got married, our friends were calling me Mrs. Sailor. I caught Sia’s reaction from the corner of my eye. She snapped to attention, her eyes jerking to me, but I didn’t say anything. It sounded strange to hear my old name, but maybe it was time I started using it.

I nodded back. “You, too, Mr…”

“Kenneth. You can call me Kenneth.”

“Okay. Thank you, and good afternoon to you, too, Mr. Kenneth.”

He’d started to indicate behind us, but at his name, he paused. The corner of his lip tucked under, like he might have been holding back a grin. He was just slightly shorter than me, maybe around five foot six, and he wore a thick black sweater over black dress pants. I saw a coat hanging just inside the door and imagined him whisking it on as he stepped outside. He was a cute little man—reddened chubby cheeks, warm brown eyes, and a little pudge in the stomach area. He had a huggable, teddy bear appeal. If I somehow ended up living here, I’d be calling him Ken within the week, whether he wanted it or not.

I found myself grinning back, even though he was still trying to hold his in.

Sia looked between us. “Ookay…”

A door opened and closed, and I heard a low voice call, “Ms. Bowman, Ms. Clarke, welcome to The Mauricio.”

A very quiet squeal came from Sia. I ignored her and nodded at the approaching man. He was tall, with a slender build. Unlike Kenneth, this guy gave off a no-nonsense vibe. He held out his hand and shook mine firmly. I wouldn’t have called him handsome. His eyes were dark, and he had a big nose with a strong jawline. But although he wasn’t pretty, he was authoritative. Sia’s mouth opened an inch, and I knew she was instantly taken with him.

“You can call me Dorian.”

I nodded. “Hello, Mr.—”

He interrupted, showcasing a blinding white smile. “Just Dorian. No Mr.”

“Dorian it is, then.” I spoke at the same moment Sia breathed out, a hand to her chest.

“Oh yes. Dorian,” she murmured.

“Ms. Clarke, it’s good to meet you in person, put a face to the voice.” He turned to her.

“Uh-huh.”

If I looked, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see her knees shaking. She was enraptured, and I knew I’d be hearing about Dorian for the next two months, until she slept with him. Mr. Kenneth and I cast her a look, and when she didn’t notice, still transfixed by Dorian, I cleared my throat.

“Thank you for letting us see the apartment,” I said, hoping to break the spell. “And for talking with Sia to set this up.”

Dorian’s eyes had lingered on Sia, but as I spoke, he turned to me. A flicker of something passed over his face. I frowned, not identifying what it was. It didn’t feel right, but then it was gone. He gazed back at me with only the utmost professionalism. Clearing his throat and with a quick nod, he extended a hand toward an elevator located across the lobby.

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