Hey… so, Mr. Byrne… um… we have daemons and fae in our world, huh?
Not quite sure really what daemons and fae are, but what about vampires and werewolves?
In your opinion, do you think any of these creatures could be aliens from another world?
It’s no surprise when our driver brings the car to a gliding stop in front of the most expensive and exclusive residential building in all of downtown Seattle. On the northeast side of Belltown, it’s perched upon a hill five blocks from the water, which would give it extraordinary views of the Sound, Bainbridge Island, and the Olympic Mountains. Same views as Fallon and Blain, just with a much more expensive price tag. It’s called The Prestige, and I guess the name says it all.
I’ve heard Fallon talk dreamily about how maybe one day they could move from The Sapphire to The Prestige, but I think it’s a pipe dream. It’s reserved for the one percent of the one percent. Blain Stratherton may have money, but he doesn’t have the type that would let him in the lobby of this building. And now I get why Fallon was fawning all over Mr. Byrne—having someone wealthy enough to live at The Prestige could be the biggest feather in her cap if he were to buy art from her gallery. I make a note to ask him if he’ll be doing so anytime soon because he totally should. Fallon’s stuff is amazing.
An umbrella isn’t needed as the lobby portico is large enough to cover two rows of vehicles pulling up to the building. I follow Mr. Byrne out of the car, then through a gold-framed carousel door to the inner lobby.
There’s an impressive reception desk that stands at least four feet in height. It’s manned by two people who are impeccably dressed in black suits, earpieces, and pleasant smiles. To both the left and right of the desk are banks of elevators that must lead up to condos on either side of the building.
“Good evening, Mr. Byrne,” one says in a muted voice, to which he gets a curt nod in return. I follow him along the marble floor toward the elevators on the right, but we move past said elevators and through a door he has to enter a very long digited code to get through.
On the other side of the door is a small room with the same marbled floor and a single private elevator.
There’s a button, which Carrick presses, and the doors slide silently open. I step inside a lushly decorated car with thick carpeting, dark paneled walls, and brass fittings. There’s only one button on the inside, and he pushes it. I can only assume it goes to one place, and it must be the top floor.
The silence between us is awkward. I lean against the wall, staring at my shoes, but that feels even more awkward. Daring to glance up at the man across from me, it’s disconcerting to find him staring at me. Expression like stone, but I see a bit of curiosity there as well. Unwilling to show my discomfort, I refuse to look away.
Mr. Byrne peruses my face, which causes my cheeks to heat just a bit because his study is critical. When his gaze focuses on mine, he says, “Your eyes are very odd.”
I almost want to laugh because they are indeed unusual. But I feel like he’s using the word “odd” in an intentional way… as to if to put me down in some way.
I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s a first. Most people compliment me on how beautiful they are.”
“Do they now?” he murmurs, expression still unyielding.
There’s a soft ding, and the elevator door slides open. I’m caught off guard to realize the elevator actually opens right into his home, then I’m completely blown away by the splendor and decadence of this top-floor penthouse in The Prestige.
Yes, my jaw drops.
I gape as I take in my surroundings.
We’re in a large open living area that’s so massive it’s scattered with groupings of furniture.
Not just one set of furniture, but several pockets of chairs, couches, loveseats, and tables clustered in groups to promote quiet conversations. The colors are calm… beiges, creams, and light blues. There’s a free-standing fireplace in the middle of the room that has to be at least seven feet in length, and it rises all the way to the ceiling. The hardwood floors are done in a unique herringbone pattern in various shades of wood ranging from light blond to dark walnut. Under the groupings of furniture are thick rugs of cream and gray in geometric patterns.
Most spectacular is the west-facing side. Nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows so it’s easy to view the splendor of the western horizon. Dusk is settling in, and I can see the lights of Bainbridge Island twinkling in the distance.