CHAPTER SEVEN
With only a few days left before the dorms closed, I was running short on time and options to find a new place to live. I couldn’t believe how far behind I’d fallen with this, but life was throwing me curve balls lately so I decided to reach out to Blake’s sister and hope for some quick results.
Fiona Landon was stunning. Her light brown hair curled under into a stylish simple bob. Young, professional, and elegant, she was dressed in a navy blue polka dot dress when we met to begin the quest for my first apartment.
The first few places she showed me were in line with what I expected—on budget, smallish, and fair location, but a decent hike to any public transportation. I quickly realized that I’d either have to make some concessions or come up with a more realistic budget.
We stopped for a quick lunch at a little deli near the public gardens to regroup.
After making some calls to set up a last minute showing, Fiona joined me at the table. “So how do you know Blake?”
I choked a little on my lemonade. God, if she only knew.
“I’m in talks with Angelcom to invest in my business.”
“Oh wow, that’s great. I hope it works out.”
“Me too.”
“Blake gets so involved in his investments. I’ve seen some of those companies really take off.”
I nodded and spared her the fact that he had “passed” on me. Well, he’d passed on the business anyway. He was pursuing me physically with a single-minded determination that one might expect from a ruthless businessman.
“What about you? Do you do this full-time?”
“Blake has several real estate holdings, so I mostly stay busy managing those, but I dabble with other listings in town.”
“I guess it’s good to keep it in the family.”
“Definitely. Blake keeps us busy with all his projects.”
“I met Heath recently too actually,” I said, conveniently leaving out the details of our Las Vegas rendezvous.
“Oh, yeah?”
“He’s a character,” I continued, hoping to glean a little bit more about her charismatic brother and whatever issues Blake had with him, if only for Alli’s sake.
“You could say that. I have no idea how Blake keeps up with him.” She looked past me, her face carefully void of emotion. “Do you have any siblings?”
“No, it’s just me.” For years it had literally been just me. I often imagined what life might be like with a sibling or two. Someone to share the emotional burden with after my mother died or to make light of our hardships with and carry on together. The closest person to know what I’d been through was Elliott, but like me, he’d moved on.
Fiona and I finished our lunch and she drove us to the last apartment of the day, which she promised would be more in line with what I was looking for. She pulled in front of a picturesque brownstone on Commonwealth Ave. The street was tree-lined from one end to the other, with walking paths and beautifully manicured commons separating the two sides of the street. The location was address to many of the who’s who of the city, and while I enjoyed the change of scenery from the lackluster places I’d seen so far, I worried how far out of the budget this would fall.
Nonetheless, I followed her up a flight of stairs. We entered a light and spacious two-bedroom apartment.
“Wow.”
“This just came onto the market,” Fiona said.
The appliances were new, the walls had a fresh coat of paint, and the dark wood floors were impeccable.
“This is perfect, Fiona, but I doubt I could afford something this nice.”
“The owner is listing it at the right price for the right renter. It’s above your budget, but it’s such a great find, I had to show you.” She handed me the listing sheet with the asking rent, a figure over budget, but well worth the extra features it offered.
I blew out a slow breath and did some mental math.
“You could always pick up a roommate with the extra room. It won’t stay listed long, Erica, so if you think you might want it, I can make a call right now.”
I’d have bay windows, a bathtub, and a second room to do with what I wanted. I was flying by the seat of my pants lately, so why stop now?
“Where do I sign?”
* * *
I stuffed the last of my clothes into a black trash bag and tossed it next to the others. Alli and I had barely spoken all day except to negotiate who would claim joint purchases. It felt strangely like a breakup, and in much the same way wreaked havoc on my already frayed nerves. Both finished, we each settled on the bare dorm mattresses, the springs squeaking below us. I wouldn’t miss these.
“Have you heard from Heath?” I asked, anxious to break the silence and the tension between us.
She raised her eyebrows slightly and nodded. Great, I was getting the silent treatment.
“And?”
“And what?” she snapped. “It’s not like you give a shit, Erica.”
“Listen, I’m sorry. You caught me at a bad time, and I just—” a tear slid down my face and I immediately wiped it away. “I wish you didn’t have to go, but I want you to know that I understand why you do. I—”
She crossed the distance between us and hugged me hard.
“I want you to be happy, and I know you will be,” I whispered.
She pulled away and held my face in her hands. “You’re my best friend, Erica. A couple hundred miles isn’t going to change that. And don’t think for a minute that you can’t rock this business without me. This is your baby. There isn’t anything holding you back now.”
“You make it sound like it’s going to be so easy.”
“You’ve made this whole thing look easy from day one. I have no idea how we pulled it off, but I know we couldn’t have without you.”
I wanted to believe her, but now that her leaving was a reality, the weight of my responsibilities hit me hard. Thankfully I had a lot more time to manage them, but I started to question my decision to stay in Boston when it seemed like everyone who mattered to me was leaving.
* * *
Fiona met me at the door looking as polished as she had before in a colorful sundress.
“Congrats!” She smiled and gave me a quick hug.
“Thank you for finding me such an amazing place.”
“Anytime.”
When she glanced over at the SUV that had delivered me, her smile faded a bit. Brad stepped out and joined me on the sidewalk in front of the building. Brad was a friend of a friend. I didn’t know him really well, but he was nice enough and clearly he spent some time in the gym, so I didn’t feel too bad asking him to move my futon up a flight of stairs to the new place.
He did so with expert grace, leaving the immaculate walls of the stairwell unscathed. Fiona seemed nervous when she handed me the keys to open the door. After I did, Brad passed through the threshold toward the room that would be my bedroom. Before I could follow him in, someone came down the stairs.
Oh, a neighbor! I thought excitedly, until Blake F*cking Landon turned the corner and faced me with a heart-melting smile.
“What are you doing here?” The tone of my voice revealed more panic than I wanted it to. I’d just gone through three regretful days believing I’d be rid of him for good, while simultaneously questioning why I had permanently sworn off the best sex of my life.
“I live here.”
I shifted my glare to Fiona who visibly cringed, revealing that she was in on this the entire time.
“Sorry,” she mouthed before turning to leave us.
“You live here.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a confirmation of the worst-case scenario.
“Well, actually I own the building, but yeah, I live here too.”
I crossed my arms and my foot started tapping, a telltale sign I was about to flip out. How could I best articulate the absolute rage I felt toward this excruciatingly sexy man who could not keep himself from interfering with my affairs?
“You look angry. What can I do?”
He had the decency to look a little tentative, which was wise because I was considering physical violence to make my point. Words were wasted on him.
“For starters, you can stop meddling in my goddamn life, Blake!” I poked my finger into his rock hard pectorals. “What makes you think you can swoop in here and conveniently plant me in your downstairs apartment and think that’s totally f*cking normal?”
“For a Harvard girl, you’ve got quite the potty mouth.”
“Cut the shit, Blake.”
“Did you really want to live in one of those fleabag apartments?”
“You are completely missing the point.”
Exasperated, I turned into the apartment and slammed the door behind me. He followed me in, coming face to face with Brad, who looked surprised to say the least. Blake was leaner and generally less beefy, but he had some height on Brad. Blake’s wide-eyed gaze narrowed at the sight of him, and his hands fisted at his sides.
“Uh, hey?” Brad looked uncomfortable.
I rushed to my purse, grabbed my wallet, and pulled out the fifty bucks I owed him. “Thanks so much, Brad. I think we’re good. Just throw the rest of the bags in the lobby, and I can bring them up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Blake and I said in unison.
I’d likely never see Brad again, but I was still embarrassed by the situation.
He did give me a brilliant idea though.
* * *
Somehow in the process of fighting with me over the privilege of hauling my bags into the apartment, Blake talked me into having dinner at his place upstairs. I was starving and emotionally wiped out, so I reluctantly agreed.
We walked through the entryway and into an open room with a designer kitchen to the right and large sitting and dining areas to the left. The apartment, for the most part, was every bit what I would expect. Light and modern, the main room was filled with contemporary furnishings, cream microfiber couches, dark hard woods, and pops of ocean blue in the paintings and accents. I guessed someone else, likely a woman, had helped him decorate the space.
What surprised me most, especially after getting a load of his high-tech Tesla, was the complete lack of visible electronics, but perhaps he was simply so high-tech they were camouflaged into the room somehow.
“No gadgets and gizmos?” I asked.
“Not really. If I need to be wired in, I go to my office.”
“That surprises me.”
“Why?”
“Well you can probably orchestrate a small conference from your car’s touch screen. I didn’t figure your living space would be any different.”
“I’ve been staring at screens for fifteen years. Eventually it occurred to me that I get some of my best ideas when I’m offline for extended periods of time.”
“I guess I can see that,” I said, not quite able to come to grips with my own technology obsession. I needed to be accessible at all times, just in case. The thought of being off the grid for more than an hour, especially for someone like Blake who must be in much higher demand, was unthinkable.
“Wine?”
Today had been hot, exhausting, and stressful. I wanted nothing more than to end it with a cool glass of white wine, but that was a one-track journey into Blake’s bedroom—a place I was determined to avoid, especially under these new living circumstances. Now that we were neighbors, thanks to the one-year lease I’d very recently signed, I had to enforce new boundaries.
“Water,” I said. “So what’s for dinner? Can I help with anything?”
“Uh—” He hesitated, and then opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of take out menus. “Take your pick. I highly recommend the Thai place down the street. The best you’ll ever have.”
I shook my head, a little amazed that he’d made such an effort to invite me up for dinner without having a game plan. For him, that seemed unusual. He was always five steps ahead of me, a quality I’d never underestimate again.
“Let me guess. You don’t cook?”
“I have many talents, but cooking isn’t one of them, no.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“Not really.” He shrugged.
“Okay, where’s the nearest market?”
He raised his eyebrows. “A couple blocks away.”
“Okay, I’ve got an empty fridge and I’m guessing you do too. How about we go pick up some things, and I’ll show you how to make a proper meal for the next time you invite a girl over to your place.”
He paused. I wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or considering my offer. Regardless, he’d crossed the line with me too many times. I refused to walk on eggshells around Blake, billionaire or not.
“Fair enough,” he finally said.
Blake was completely out of his element in the market. I’d never understood why mothers failed to teach their sons how to at least prepare basic meals for themselves. I felt him out for likes and dislikes, and then collected all the ingredients for one of my specialties, linguine and clams, one of the first dishes my mother had taught me to make.
Since I still lacked basic household items, like pots and pans. I set to work preparing the meal in Blake’s gourmet kitchen, while he stood on the sidelines. I felt out of practice, but gradually I found my bearings. After four years of communal living with bare bones kitchenettes, I missed being in a real kitchen, and Blake’s lacked for nothing.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me?” I asked, only half serious.
He joined me at the counter, and I gave him his first task.
“Here, dice this.” I handed him an onion. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, pretending not to notice as he blinked away the tears.
I made myself at home, narrating along the way for his sake. Though mostly silent, Blake was an attentive student. A little too attentive at times—I caught him staring at my ass when I went hunting for a strainer in his cabinets. I took full advantage of the power swap, schooling him on a few pasta cooking basics, like identifying al dente pasta and the critical difference between freshly grated versus jarred parmesan cheese.
Once finished, I prepared two plates, and Blake carried them into the dining area. We sat at the distressed wood farmhouse table, a beautiful and expensive piece of furniture. Admittedly, I was beginning to get used to the finer things when in Blake’s presence.
We dove in and were silent for a few moments.
“I approve.” He nodded and twisted some more pasta onto his fork.
“Thanks. The good news is that the leftovers will be even better.”
“How can leftovers be better than this?”
“The pasta absorbs all the clam juice. It’s divine.”
He moaned an affirmative as he finished another mouthful.
I smiled, content and maybe a little empowered.
“Are you all set for your meeting with Max?” he asked. His plate was already clear while I had barely made a dent in mine.
“Not entirely. I’ve been running around with the move and tying up loose ends. I plan to work through the details this week though.”
“He’ll want to know more about your conversion statistics.”
“Okay.” I nodded, making a mental note to try to flesh that out more.
“And you’ll need a specific breakdown of your expenses now, and what you expect them to be after funding. With Alli out of the picture and your personal expenses changing, you need to start thinking about what the financial landscape will look like if you get funding.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Do you have any stats on your marketing efforts? What’s working, what’s not?”
“Um, a little bit.” I said. “I have analytics, but I haven’t really crunched those numbers in a while.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Sounds like I’ll be doing my homework.”
“Why don’t you stop by my office for a bit, and I can help you break down some of this. You’ll get funding faster if you can answer all of these questions right off the bat. Otherwise it’ll just lead to more meetings. There are only a few questions you need to answer to get a deal, but you need to know every angle of the answer.”
If anyone could nurse me through this process, Blake could. Turning him down would be rude, not to mention downright foolish. Still, I was dubious about further involving him in my affairs, not that he’d given me much choice.
“Is that a conflict of interest?” I asked, trying to think of any legitimate reason refuse his help. I hated that I needed him right now.
“No, Erica. I already told you, I’m not investing in your project.”
“I appreciate the offer, Blake. I really do, but I don’t want to put you out.”
“You won’t. My office is right across from the clock tower.” He pulled his card out of his wallet. “Meet me there after lunch and we can go over figures.” He picked up his empty plate and headed into the kitchen.
“When’s the last time you ate?” I asked when he returned with another heaping plate and a frosty bottle of a local microbrew.
“I’m a sucker for a home cooked meal.” He grinned and took a swig from the bottle. “What’s on the menu for tomorrow night? Let me know and I’ll stock the kitchen.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t realize I’d need to subsidize my rent with cooking services.”
“I think I’d be content to let you live here rent free if you fed me like this every night.”
“Tempting,” I teased, though I would never consider it. Blake had obviously taken extreme measures to position me here in his building, available at his leisure so it would seem. Sweetening the deal with gourmet cooking was probably counter-intuitive. Perhaps I could stave him off with food in lieu of sex though. Could be a good plan, though I had an even better one.