I shift in place, tugging at the hem of my dress. I wish I was wearing something, anything, else. Something fancy and modern and stylish, like Ankor’s mother and sister. Instead, I’m in the same sundress I wore when we first met. It felt comfy to change into as our more-comfortable-than-usual plane ride came to an end. But now it just feels dowdy.
But at least, as Ankor takes my hand and leads me, along with his family, into his enormous living room—with a crazy view of Central Park and all the other buildings along it, since half of the apartment’s walls are glass—I feel secure. Between the doorman, the key-activated elevator, and a series of video panels I notice embedded in the wall along the hallway from the elevator into the living room, each of which display security footage from the downstairs lobby and the front of the building, I doubt anyone is getting past all this and into the apartment.
This is one place I’ll be safe, I realize. At least for as long as I’m holed up inside.
And if I was picking places to be stuck holed up, this is certainly not the worst option. In the middle of the living room is a huge fireplace—gas operated, I realize after Ankor taps a remote control and flames spring to life behind the glass front panel.
There are three couches, all pristine white, but with comfortable looking cushions and cozy throw blankets. Ankor and I take one couch, with his parents opposite from us. His sister takes the last couch to herself, sprawling across it, directly across from the fireplace.
“So,” Margot says, with a smile that’s only slightly forced around her eyes. “Tell us all about how you two lovebirds met.”
Underneath the blanket, Ankor weaves his fingers through mine and squeezes my hand in reassurance. But it’s okay. With him beside me, I can handle this.
I can handle anything.
So I take a deep breath, smile, and launch into our story.
11
Sinclair
A week of penthouse life, and I’m already realizing that I could get used to this. Between New York offering delivery of just about any food we can possibly imagine, at any hour, day or night, and Ankor’s building offering anything else we could possibly need—from the rooftop pool where I’ve been practicing swimming laps every morning (no deep end on this one either, so I don’t even need to work myself up to it), to the rain shower and full jacuzzi tub a level down where I rinse off (and more often than not immediately get dirty again, when Ankor’s around), all the way to the sumptuously soft bed we sink into together every night. There’s nothing more I could possibly need or ask for.
Except for maybe some fresh air, and the ability to walk outside on the street without feeling like I need to check over my shoulder every step of the way.
But with time, I hope that will fade too. Ankor’s been right here with me, reassuring me that my ex will never find this place, or come this far to hunt me. And even if he does, Ankor has enough security personnel to take him out without even needing to lift a finger himself. Not that Ankor wouldn’t relish the chance to lay into my ex himself. He tries to hide it, but I can tell by the way his fists clench and his jaw tightens anytime I seem worried or frightened. He feels protective of me.
That, too, is starting to help push my fears away. Just like Ankor helped me conquer my fear of the deep end, once upon a time.
So all in all, New York has been good to me so far. Even if this morning, after a week of relaxing, Ankor has to go into his offices for a while. He promises me he’ll be back as soon as he can, and that he’ll bring something called khao soi with him. I don’t have any idea what it is, but he says if I like Thai food (which I do) and curry (which I definitely do), then I’ll love this.
Still, I can’t help pulling him back into bed more than once. And he doesn’t seem to mind being a little late. He pins me down against the mattress and kisses me until my head is swimming, before he finally rolls off the bed and toward the door.
“Tease,” I call after him.
“Trust me, Sinclair.” He pauses in the entryway to turn around, eyes locked on mine and filled with heat. “Leaving you right now is torturing me far more than you’ll ever know.”
My belly tightens, the way it always does when he talks like that. My heart skips a beat as he winks, wearing the jaunty grin I can’t help but love. “I’ll see you soon.”
“See you later. Oh.” He pauses before he’s about to leave, and smirks. “And I’m stopping at a toy shop on the way home.” His eyes glitter with amusement when I blush, realizing he doesn’t mean kids’ toys. “Let me know if there’s anything in particular you’d like to try.”