Page 69 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

"More helicopters?"

"Better." I offer my hand. "Trust me?"

She takes it without hesitation, and that simple gesture undoes me more than any kiss.

"Fair warning," I say as I lead her to a private elevator, "this might change your opinion of me."

"Because you have a secret lair?"

"Because I have a very obvious lair." I press my thumb to the biometric scanner. "Complete with all the billionaire clichés."

The elevator opens directly into my private floor, and I watch Ariana's expression shift from teasing to astonished.

"Holy shit."

Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase Seattle's twinkling skyline, the Space Needle glowing like a man-made star. The open-concept space flows from living area to office to what's technically a "meditation pool" but is really just my attempt at justifying a rooftop infinity edge to the board.

"This is..." She steps inside, turning slowly. "This is where you actually work?"

"Live, sometimes." I follow her in. "When meetings run late or I need to avoid my mother's attempts at crystal healing."

"You live here?"

"Only when necessary." I gesture to a door. "Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen. The basics."

"The basics," she repeats faintly. "Right. Because everyone has a rooftop pool forty stories above Seattle."

"It's for stress relief."

"Sure it is." But she's biting on her bottom lip. "Just like the movie screen is for 'virtual conferencing'?"

"Actually, that one's just because I like old movies."

She wanders to the windows, pressing a hand to the glass. "It's beautiful."

"Yes, it is.” But I'm not looking at the view.

She catches me staring. "What?"

"Nothing." I move closer. "Just... enjoying the perspective."

"The perspective of watching me gawk at your secret billionaire pad?"

"The perspective of watching you be you." I reach for her, then stop myself. "Do you know how rare that is? People who are just... genuine?"

She turns to face me. "Connor..."

"Everyone wants something." The words rush out before I can stop them. "My father wants his legacy. The board wants security. And I guess… they all mean well, but they're all part of this world. This reality where everyone plays their part."

"And I don't?"

"You've never played any part except yourself." I step closer. "Even in Vegas, drunk and ridiculous, you were real. Genuine. Completely yourself."

"Maybe that's why we got married," she says softly. "Because drunk-me recognized something in drunk-you."

"What's that?"

"Someone else who's tired of playing parts."

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