“You don’t have to bring me to your house,” I said. “I just... you can take me home.” Obviously he couldn’t really take me home. I didn’t have a home. But I could give him directions to the shelter, could make him drop me off around the corner and then wait until he disappeared before I went in.
“No.” He shook his head. “You can’t be alone tonight.”
“I won’t be alone,” I lied.
He raised his eyebrows.
“I have a boyfriend.”
He snorted, like that was completely out of the realm of possibility.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re lying.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if you had a boyfriend, he wouldn’t have let you audition to be a stripper. And if he did, he’s not the kind of man I’d want taking care of you tonight.”
“And you are?” I shot back. Yes, I was lying, but if Colt was so concerned about my imaginary boyfriend letting me go to a stripping audition, then shouldn’t he have been concerned about how he was the one running the strip club?
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, I wouldn’t be the one I’d want taking care of you. But unfortunately for you, Princess, you’re stuck with me.”
He was pulling the car into the parking garage of a building now, and my pulse quickened as I realized I was alone with him and I didn’t even know him. It wasn’t much different than going home with a stranger, which is essentially what he was. Just because I knew his name and where he worked didn’t mean it was safe.
He pulled into parking spot with a bright yellow RESERVED sign on the front. As we got closer, I saw that the space was marked PENTHOUSE. So he had the penthouse. God, could he have been any more of a cliché? He ran a strip club and lived in a penthouse. And drove a hot car.
He got out of the car and came around to the side and opened my door for me. I stepped out into the parking lot.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” His eyes flicked down to my wrist again, his gaze lingering on my scars. I quickly yanked the sleeves of my shirt down, and this time, he didn’t ask questions.
“Let’s go,” he said. He took my hand and pulled me toward the elevator.
His apartment was just what you’d expect – guy central. An enormous flat screen TV, black leather couches, a huge black and white circle rug on the hardwood floor. The only thing that was surprising was the art on the walls.
There were huge abstract paintings in shades of red, black, white, and turquoise. They added a certain elegance to the place, making it seem like the apartment of a man who had sophisticated tastes, instead of a boy who just threw everything together because he had money and thought it looked cool.
Colt headed to the bar and poured two drinks, then handed one to me, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I don’t drink,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t drink?”
“No.” Growing up in foster homes made you go either one of two ways – you either ended up drinking like most of your foster parents, or you became determined not to end up like them, and so you stayed far away from alcohol. I was the latter.
“You wanted to be a stripper and you don’t drink?” He threw his head back and laughed, like this was the funniest thing in the world.
“Can you show me where I’ll be sleeping?” I asked. My tone was clear – that he’d better not think we’d be sleeping in the same bed.
“Sure.” He took a long slow sip from his glass, then turned and started walking up the spiral staircase that was on the other side of the room. I hesitated, not sure I should follow him. The thought of being alone upstairs with him sent a shiver down my spine. My stomach twisted into knots – but it wasn’t out of fear. It was very strange – even though I didn’t know anything about Colt, I sensed deep down that he wasn’t going to hurt me. In fact, his presence, although mysterious and dark, was also somehow soothing.
I followed him up the stairs to a room at the end of the hall.
He opened the door for me.
“There are towels in the closet in the bathroom,” he said.
I nodded. “Thank you.”
He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my lips. I thought again about how close I came to kissing him, and my face flushed.
“You should have a nap,” Colt said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
And then, just like that, he was gone.
I looked around the room – it was simple and tasteful. A cream-colored platform bed rested against the far wall, covered with a cream-and-blue comforter. A small nightstand was next to it, and on it was a silver clock, a plant with wide green leaves that seemed to be real, and a stack of books.
I ran my hand over the spines. All philosophy books.
I turned to the adjoining bathroom.
It was small, but modern, with a mosaic-tiled shower and a basin sink.