Rake (Wolfes of Manhattan 4)

He slid a key card through a slot, and the elevator arrived shortly. Then he slid the card into another slot once we were inside. “This goes straight to my place,” he said.

“Do you all live here?” I asked.

“No. Just me. Rock will, eventually, but the penthouse where my father lived is still a crime scene.”

“Where do Roy and Riley live?”

“They both live in other buildings, not too far from here.”

“Why don’t they live here?”

“Roy didn’t want to, and Riley… Honestly, I don’t know. I’m surprised my father didn’t want her here, close to him.”

“Why would he?”

“How much has she told you?” he asked.

“Not much. Just that you were all abused by him. Your father.”

“I can’t tell you her story,” Reid said. “But if you ask her, I think she’ll level with you.”

I could already imagine what Riley had suffered, and I didn’t like where my mind was going.

When the elevator door opened right into a living area, Reid said, “This is the second to top floor. The penthouse is at the top.”

My stomach was jarred from how quickly the elevator had ascended. I felt a little queasy from the ride…and also from being here with Reid.

His place was huge and spacious, decorated in masculine black and green. I wanted to look, to take it all in, but I followed Reid.

He carried my small bag—I hadn’t brought much—to a door and opened it.

I gasped. “Is this where you want me to stay?”

The room was huge and decorated in soft pastels. So unlike Reid Wolfe. A king-sized bed was covered in what appeared to be pink satin. Fluffy pink and white pillows lounged over it. The dresser and chest were white lacquer, and the window… Such a gorgeous view of the city lights. Nothing like the glitz of Las Vegas. The Manhattan skyline wasn’t as colorful but was spectacular in a classy way.

“Don’t you like it?” he asked.

“It’s lovely, but I have to say. I can’t imagine you having a pink and white bedroom in your house.”

“It’s a guest room,” he laughed. “My own bedroom doesn’t have a sliver of pink in it, I assure you.”

A guest room. Of course. For female guests. Which he probably had a lot of.

Jealousy speared its ugly head into my flesh.

What did I have to be jealous of? Reid wasn’t mine. Would never be mine, no matter how attracted I was to him. I was a mess, and getting involved with the son of one of my tormentors wouldn’t help me heal.

Still, I couldn’t help getting snippy. “Not all women like pink, you know.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Of course they don’t. I have another guest room.” He picked up my suitcase.

I sighed. How immature I was being. Pink wasn’t my favorite color, but I had nothing against it. He was offering me a place to stay in this amazing apartment for free.

“This room is fine,” I said.

“You sure? There’s another, but it’s closer to my master suite. I thought you’d feel safer being farther away from me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You seemed so…apprehensive about being near me,” he said. “I want you to feel protected.”

“Actually,” I replied, “I think I’d feel safer if I were closer to you.”

He smiled. “Good enough.” He picked up my suitcase and led me down a hallway to another door and opened it.

This room was decorated in black and white—the furniture was black lacquer, and the bedding was zebra-striped. I gasped again. The room was roughly the same size as the other, but the view was even more spectacular from here.

“Is this better?” Reid asked.

“This is fine. Thank you. Where’s your room?”

“Right across the hall.”

Curiosity rolled through me. What might Reid Wolfe’s bedroom look like?

He set my suitcase on the floor and led me to the bathroom, which was even more decadent than I could have imagined. “There are robes in the closet for your use. Lots of shampoo and conditioner and body wash. Towels and wash cloths. Everything you’ll need, and if there’s something else you need, just let me know. Lydia can get it for you.”

“Lydia?”

“She’s my housekeeper. Head of staff.”

Staff? “Oh. Okay.” I imagined a shapely woman dressed in a black and white French maid’s uniform.

“Just push this button.” He indicated a pad on the wall that looked like an intercom. “Lydia will come.”

“She’s not here now, is she?”

“She’s off duty, but the night maid is here. Her name is Monique.”

Monique. Yeah, definitely the French maid mini-uniform with black fishnets. “I don’t want to bother anyone.”

“They’re paid to see to my guests. It’s not a bother. What do you need?”

“Maybe just some water.”

“Not a problem.” He pushed the button. “Monique?”

“Yes, Mr. Wolfe?”

“We have a guest tonight in the second bedroom. She’d like some water, please.”

“Right away.”

I was still mesmerized by the view when someone knocked on the door.