Page 65 of When Glitter Meets Gold

J: Yeah, I’m going to struggle with that. But fine. I promise I won’t kiss you

J: Unless you ask me to x

28

SARA

Naturally, Jack insisted on sending his car to collect me. By the time we’d finished arguing over text, the shining black and silver Maybach was already waiting outside to take me to his place. And sure, sinking into the back leather seats and pretending I’m some kind of bratty socialite for twenty minutes, is extremely cool.

Burke is in the driver’s seat, predominantly silent apart from the odd string of profanities directed at New York rush hour traffic. He really is very mysterious.

I’m in the middle of contemplating whether I go in or simply wait in the car for Jack to pass me the paperwork when my eyes snag on something poking from the side pocket next to my door. I’m drawn in by the familiar papery texture and flimsy cream edges.A napkin.

One of millions in this city. It can’t possibly bemynapkin, because this car is far too clean to not have gone through at least one full valet since the other night at Midas…

I grab the napkin, open it, and discover my embarrassing sketch.

He kept it?

Something tugs inside my chest.

Then, the car is pulling up outside a row of brownstone townhouses tucked behind aged-black railings and trees dusted with shades of bronze and rust.

“I bet there’s been a lot of girls where I’m sitting?” I say to Burke as I contemplate my next move.

A snort comes from the front seat. “If he’d let everything go to his head, then I’m sure there would have been.”

Let what go to his head, exactly? His obvious fortune and success? Is Burke saying therehasn’tbeen a ton of girls where I’m sitting? Unsatisfied with my answer, I try again. I put on a sarcastic tone and laugh.

“You mean I’m the only girl to ever be driven to his home? Lucky me.”

He turns in his seat, giving me an expression devoid of any feeling. I swear this guy is some kind of secret Special Ops officer. “Only one I’ve ever taken.”

That shuts me up.

He pulls down his aviators and kills the engine, flashing me his dark brown eyes in the rear-view mirror. “You done interrogating me? Or are you going in there?”

A second later, I’m stuffing the napkin back in the pocket and checking a message on my phone from Jack which readsKnock if you want me to pass you the paperwork, or just come in, doors open.

I swallow as I reach for the handle. He’s giving me options. Letting me know I don’t have to come inside.

“Going in,” I say quickly as I get out the car.

Moments later, I’m stepping into a beautiful foyer with high ceilings and walls decorated in soft neutrals. A pair of plaid,sandy armchairs rest next to a low oak coffee table which holds several ragged books and a bonsai tree. It’s the most gorgeous home I’ve ever seen.

Jack appears from behind an archway to greet me while I’m still staring at the tree. “I had one of those in college,” I say quickly to take the edge off how how nervous I am to be in here.

“Had?” Jack raises an eyebrow.

“It came to a sad end. No matter where I moved the thing, it just kept dying,” I say as I take off my blazer and drape it over the back of an armchair because I’m starting to feel very warm. I can even feel a sheen of moisture begin to form on my forehead. What the hell am I doing here?

“Well, there’s the problem.” He rakes a hand through his hair, visibly uncomfortable with my mistreatment of the organism, and perhaps oblivious to my increased body temperature. “They don’t like to be moved. I positioned the coffee table especially. Location is key.”

I shoot a glance back to the odd little tree, admitting the coffee table does reside in a rather strange location compared to the rest of the furniture. Did he really just admit to basing the placement of his furniture around the happiness of a plant? A buzz of warmth tugs at my center and I find myself fighting the urge to tell him how sweet that is.

“What was the emergency?” I say instead, as my body temperature begins to regulate.

“I had to go up to the roof.”

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