“Ready to go?”
I nod, and we leave my apartment. In the elevator, Jack slips on his sunglasses when he sees two people inside. They don’t pay any attention to him. After all, why would Kyle Bryce be in a nondescript apartment block in LA?
Outside, Jack leads me to a black, obviously high-range SUV and opens the black passenger door for me. I slide in and meet the dark eyes of a big man in the driver’s seat. His fierce look melts away when he smiles. He nods at me as Jack slides in next to me.
“Grace, this is Ethan, my driver, bodyguard, and friend,” Jack says warmly.
Ethan smiles again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” I say and sink back into the comfortable creamy leather seats. The car smells of luxury and Jack. It’s the fanciest car I’ve ever ridden in. I can’t even tell whether we’re moving or not unless I look out the tinted windows. I’m sure I must have ridden in other expensive cars when I was living with my parents, but my brain has more or less blocked that period of my life.
We’re both quiet on the way to Jack’s place. For me, it’s uncomfortable to have a conversation when there’s someone else in the car, hearing us. My relationship with Jack has been private from the very beginning. It’s odd to be a couple in the presence of someone else.
The car slows down, and ahead, I see a pair of large white gates sliding open. My heart skips a beat as we drive into Jack’s compound. It’s difficult to imagine that the Jack I know is the owner of this gorgeous property. The grounds are beautifully landscaped with large mature oak trees that provide extra privacy to the home. Ethan brings the car to a halt in front of a stately two-story home.
I’m still staring at the house when Ethan opens the door for me. I’m about to tell him that I could have opened it myself when I change my mind at the last minute. I don’t want him to feel awkward around me, so I just flow with it and get out of the car.
I love Jack’s home. It has an older, warm look, with ivy growing on the walls and a wide porch wrapping the house. The second story has a balcony, and I can imagine sitting there and watching the sunset in the evenings.
Jack takes my hand. “Welcome home.”
I smile at him. “You have a beautiful home.”
“I was hoping you’d think so. I can’t wait to give you a tour,” he says, enthusiasm brimming from him.
“Let’s go.”
We go up the stairs that lead up to the front door, and before we touch it, it swings open to reveal a uniformed, smiling lady.
“Hello, Kyle.”
“Hey, Maria.”
I really need to start thinking of him as Kyle. He introduces us, and she offers me a warm welcome. The centerpiece of the entryway is a large chandelier sparkling with what looks to be a thousand bulbs. On the left is a beautiful staircase that is truly a piece of art.
Kyle takes me to the living room, and the first thing I see is the portrait I did of him hanging above the mantel. It warms my heart. “It looks good up there,” I tell him.
“The artist is very gifted. I’m hoping to convince her to sell me a few more,” Jack says.
I laugh as I walk around his comfortable living room, looking at the paintings on the walls. Clearly, he’s an art lover, and I’m glad he saw something he liked in my work.
We chat about his favorite pieces, and then we move to the kitchen. A man working on a laptop stands up when he hears our footsteps. Next to him is Ethan, engrossed in reading a newspaper.
“This is Chris; he’s my friend and PA. Chris, this is Grace.” He drapes an arm around my shoulders, drawing me close.
I smile at him, a little taken aback by the number of people in his house. It was foolish of me to think that he’d be alone. We exchange greetings and polite words.
“Chris is just back from his honeymoon,” Jack says.
“Congratulations!” I tell him.
Jack teases him a little, and then we continue with our tour.
“How many people are usually in your house?” I ask him as we enter the library.
He laughs. “Not many. There’s Maria and her husband, Carlos, who takes care of the grounds and cars, and then there’s Chris, Ethan, and sometimes Sebastian, who is my agent. Oh, and a cleaning company who come every other day.”
I’m at a loss for words but what strikes me is the lack of privacy in his life. I lose my train of thought when I step into the library. It’s paneled with mahogany, has hundreds of books arranged on dark shelves, and a comfortable desk on one side.