Page 24 of The Marriage Pact
“We were wondering who’d take the last space,” a woman said. She had long, flowing, silvery hair and bright blue eyes, and was chipping away at a block of stone, smiling at Kaitlyn, who introduced herself and told her what they were doing there.
“It’s a wonderful place. I’m so excited!” Kaitlyn said after the woman had introduced herself as Mary-Beth, a sculptor who specialized in using slate to create her works.
“We’ve not had a ceramicist here before. What’s your inspiration?” Mary-Beth asked.
“I work in seascapes mainly. I love using blues and greens to create underwater scenes,” Kaitlyn said.
“I can’t wait to see your work. We’re putting on an exhibition soon. It makes sense to work in a collective. We can hold regular exhibitions, and each of us contributes a few pieces, instead ofhaving to wait to create a full collection. It makes selling a lot easier. Some of us are easier to work with than others, but I’m sure you’ll fit in,” Mary-Beth said.
“I can’t believe it. It’s all thanks to Alex, of course. He found the place for me,” Kaitlyn said, glancing at Alex, who smiled. It really was a dream come true for Kaitlyn. Had they not had the apartment to go to, she’d gladly have started at once. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” she said after she and Alex had looked around the rest of the collective and met some of the other artists.
“It’s all yours, whenever you want,” he said.
Kaitlyn slipped her hand into his and squeezed it. “You’re so kind. You don’t know what this means,” she said. “I feel so inspired. I can’t wait to get started.”
“I’m glad it makes you happy. We’re not too far from the apartment. Stephen can drive you down here whenever you want.”
Kaitlyn had assumed she’d get the subway or just walk. The idea of being chauffeured here and there would take some getting used to, even as they now climbed back into the car that had brought them from the airport.
“We’ll see. I can get around by myself. I use the public transportation options in San Francisco. It can’t be that different,” she said.
“I’d feel better if you took the car. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said.
Kaitlyn wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by this remark, but presumably the wife of a billionaire, or even just the fiancée, could easily become a target for thieves.
“I’ll be careful. Are we going to the apartment now?” she asked as the car drove off down the tree-lined street.
“I can’t wait to show you it,” he replied, smiling at her as he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
CHAPTER 9
KAITLYN
It took around half an hour to reach Alex’s apartment building. It was on a fashionable-looking street, one of the main thoroughfares to the south of Central Park. Everywhere she looked, Kaitlyn saw wealth and ostentation: the stores, restaurants, bars, and the people, too. This was a place to see and be seen. New York was an attack on the senses, so much bigger and bolder than San Francisco, or so it seemed. The city on the bay was contained. It had always felt to Kaitlyn like a collection of neighborhoods, a friendly city, not too big, but not too small. As for Cedarhurst, small-town America now felt very far away indeed.
“That’s our headquarters, the Macarson building,” Alex said, as they passed a skyscraper with the words “Lancaster Holdings”emblazoned over two sets of revolving doors.
People were hurrying in and out, jostling with one another through the marbled lobby toward elevators with golden doors in art deco style. The car purred past and stopped a few blocks down, outside another of the tallest buildings Kaitlyn had ever seen, the one Alex had pointed out from the plane. Two menin elaborate uniforms stood at the door, through which Kaitlyn could see a desk with security seated behind it.
“This is where you live?” she exclaimed, and Alex nodded.
“Up in the penthouse. Come on. They’ll be expecting us,” he said as the door of the car was opened for them.
The uniformed men tipped their top hats and greeted Alex as “Mr. Lancaster, sir.” It was a similar story inside. The security guards greeted them, and the elevator was called, while their luggage was taken by another route. The elevator itself was all gilt and mirrors. Kaitlyn suddenly felt seriously underdressed. She hadn’t given a second thought to what she was wearing when she’d left her mom’s house that morning. She was in sweatpants and a T-shirt with the Golden Gate Bridge emblazoned across it. Over the past few months, she’d been so busy thinking about other things that what she was wearing barely registered. The elevator glided smoothly to the top of the building, stopping at a floor marked “Penthouse.”
“Your ownfloor?” Kaitlyn asked, staring at Alex in disbelief.
Alex smiled. “Don’t worry. You can’t open the door without authentication,” he said, as though she’d been commenting on security, rather than the fact of an elevator going right to his apartment.
There was a fingerprint scanner to the left of the elevator controls. Alex had used it in the lobby to start the elevator, and now, he placed his index finger on it again. The door slid silently open. Kaitlyn gasped, finding herself in another lobby, this one lit by enormous windows looking out across the Manhattan skyline. They were so high up as to be above the other buildings. The view stretched into infinity. Four doors led off the lobby,and an archway led into another room, a living room, with similar windows, where chairs were arranged around large palm plants in a seating area, with a coffee table and the largest television Kaitlyn had ever seen in her life.
“This is… I never imagined,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
Kaitlyn wasn’t sure if “like” was the right word. It was impressive, but it didn’t have a particularly homey feel to it. Everything was of the best quality, but it could’ve been a hotel suite. Where were the books? The pile of dirty laundry? The thrift-store ornaments? The table covered in papers to be sorted? The odds and ends stacked here and there? Compared to her mom’s house, this was like some sort of minimalist dream.
“It’ll take some getting used to,” she admitted.
