Page 34 of Built to Last

He huffs, a deeply frustrated sound. “Harper, that’s what I’m trying so desperately to tell you. No one wants to live in a Gilded Age mansion today. They don’t need servant’s quarters and parlors. No one throws balls anymore. It needs to be functional. Have you thought about working on historical homes? I know some people who would love to consult with a woman of your skills. There are places right here in the city that are museums, and they need restoration. I can even likely find someone to fund it.”

It’s a nice offer and one that I’ll think about for a long time, but it’s a pipe dream. I build grocery stores and parking garages. “I have a job. I’m risking it by taking this much time off. The truth is this is a moment in time for me. I’ll never get the chance to do something like this again, and the idea that it’s turned into tearing down everything beautiful about the home makes me sad.”

He’s still, as though trying to decide if he wants to continue. “Do you really think it’s ugly? My designs? I’m genuinely asking. I have a thick skin. I’d like your opinion. If this was any other home, what would you think?”

I sit for a moment, formulating a response because this is an important moment. He’s been honest with me. He’s working for someone. I’ve made him out to be the all-powerful wizard, but there’s someone tugging on his strings, too. I sigh and decide to be utterly honest with the man. “I think the designs are beautiful. The funny thing is that whole bringing nature inside is something Ivy and I have talked about forever. When we discussed building our dream homes, she wanted a courtyard. I think it’s mostly because she wanted to be outside in a place where she didn’t have to deal with people. Anyway, that’s what the sketch reminded me of. But not in a ballroom. I don’t want to know what the owner is going to eventually do with it, do I?”

“I’m not sure they know yet,” Reid replies, taking another sip. “And the great news is we have to pretend like it’s all my idea on camera. Like we’re coming up with it organically. I’m sure the last episode will be a bunch of people walking through the mansion like they’re thinking about buying it. And I’ll have to be there to show them through even though it’s already purchased.”

“It’s such a weird business.” I’d been surprised at how they filmed The King Takes a Bride, the reality show that brought Luca and Ani together. If he hadn’t snuck into her room at night, they wouldn’t have had much time alone. But the man knew what he wanted. “I still don’t understand half of it. Some of the selection ceremonies took eight hours to film. And the dates were weird, too. It would look like they were alone, having a normal date, and yet they would stop every couple of minutes and adjust the lights. I have no idea how people fall in love like that.”

“I don’t think they normally do. I don’t actually watch those shows. My brother loves them, but I can’t see the appeal. I don’t believe many of the couples survive, though I think Ani and Luca are solid. Likely for the very reason you said. But it’s often that way with shows like this. Did you know on those house hunter shows the buyer has almost always already selected the home they want and they build the episode around it? It’s something like that. Television is too delicate an industry for the instability of actual reality.”

I suppose it’s about knowing the outcome and building toward it. It still feels wrong to me. “Was it like that on your show?”

“A bit,” he admits. “Though most of our renovations were subsidized. There was a lot of work we didn’t show.”

I’m not sure I understand. “Like what? What do you mean by subsidized?”

He sets his Scotch down. “There were times in the second season when we worked in some rougher neighborhoods for people who couldn’t afford the basic stuff. Like the house we redid in Pittsburg for the firefighter and his family. We got in and realized he had a slab leak that was going to eat up his reno budget. So we handled that part for him along with replacing his HVAC. But those are not sexy things, so they don’t show up on air. Now if the client had the money to add to the budget, they certainly would have enjoyed filming the messy and complicated conversation that always happens when you tell a homeowner their house is sinking. It’s a lot of drama. However, in that case it would have ended the reno entirely, so they left it out.”

“But those repairs are necessary.” Again, I’m seeing a man I like. Unfortunately, he shares a body and soul with one I don’t like. “It’s wonderful that you did that.”

“These shows run on the idea that anyone can do it. We had forty thousand for that reno. We’re selling the illusion that for forty K, you can transform your home. In some ways you can. Especially if you have the know-how and can do it yourself. There are ways to find what you need for far less than most have to spend. In others it’s pure fantasy. Most people don’t know how to install their own plumbing.”

I stare at him for a moment. “Are you trying to tell me you know how to install plumbing?”

His lips curl up in the sexiest grin. “Absolutely not. That’s why we have a contractor. My job is to design as beautiful a space as I can.” He takes a long breath. “So I know why you do what you do and why Banover Place is important to you. Would you like to know my reasons?”

I try to think of something pithy to say, but the truth of the matter is I do want to know. “Hit me.”

“I got into design because I’ve always cared about the space around me. Even at a young age. I thought about things like curtains and carpet versus tile or hardwood. My grandmother was the only person in my family I was close to. She had the loveliest apartment on the west side. I felt comfortable there in a way I didn’t in this one. My mother had it done in all white at one point. When she left, my father didn’t care to change things, and none of his women lasted long enough to redo the place, so Jeremiah and I grew up worried constantly we would ruin the expensive pieces that made up our home. It was more like a museum.”

“That’s funny. I kind of thought this place looked like a museum.”

His brow arches again, and I’m coming to understand this is his I’m offended face. “It certainly does not. I admit to having a high level of aesthetic, but everything is comfortable. Everything in this place was selected with comfort and durability in mind. When designing for myself I tend to go with what makes me feel good. I would never put tile or hardwood in my own bedroom because I like the feel of plush carpet under my feet when I wake up in the morning. I like to sit for a moment and wriggle my toes in it. I like this couch because when I fall asleep on it, my legs don’t hang off. I like knowing my brother and I took this place and made it ours after years and years of feeling like we didn’t belong here.”

“It is comfy.” I don’t like how the idea of Reid working late and falling asleep on the couch makes me warm. I don’t like how soft I get when I think about Reid as a child trying so desperately to not make a mess. Kids should be allowed to be messy. “And I love the dining room. The table has a mid-century feel.”

“Because my grandmother bought it in 1956,” he admits. “She died fifteen years ago. This was before our father passed away, and Jeremiah was living with her since dear old dad made it clear we were on our own after we turned eighteen. Luckily, we both had trust funds, and I used part of mine to go to Parson’s. Jer moved in with Grandma halfway through his last year of high school, and he lived in that apartment for several years after she died. Then we inherited this place, and it made more sense for us both to live here than it did to sell it or buy the other out, and when we moved, Jer brought the table with him. Says it makes him feel likes she’s still there, still sitting beside him telling him he needs to eat more.”

I sit up because if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to repeat the mistakes of Ralavia. I toss back the rest of my drink and stand. “Okay, we will be civil and make this work. I promise not to get in your way. I’ll cry silently at the atrocities I’ll be forced to commit in the name of design.”

He stands as well, setting his glass down on the table. I’m surprised he doesn’t have coasters. I would have thought he was a coaster man, but now that I’ve heard his story, I guess he’s not as uptight as he seems. “And I will ignore your silent crying like the asshole I’m known to be.” He sighs. “I don’t suppose we should talk about the whole wild-chemistry thing we have going.”

“Absolutely not.” If there’s one thing I want to avoid, it’s making a fool of myself over this man, and opening the door even a crack will lead to destruction. “We are going to utterly ignore it. It’s a flash fire, and the only thing it could lead to is both of us getting burned.”

“Or if we found a way to tame it, it might keep us warm for a long time,” he says quietly, and then seems to shake off some unnamed feeling. He holds out a hand. “But you’re right. Ignoring it is the best path forward. So we have a deal?”

I nod and reach for his hand. “We do. For Ani’s sake.”

I try not to think about the wave of warmth I feel the minute my skin touches his.

Chapter Twelve

I stare at the camera and wonder how the hell Anika did this.

It’s only a camera. I tell myself that. I’ve done some establishing shots, but those were mostly of me walking into the place and setting up for the demo we’re doing this afternoon. I wasn’t forced to talk, and suddenly talking seems to be a hard thing to do.

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