“I get it,” I replied.
She gazed down at me; her eyelids were shadowed in a silvery blue, matching the glow of her necklace. “But I look forward to meeting you again.”
“Don’t forget he’s mine.” Angela grabbed my arm and hugged it to her chest, dragging me toward her. She gave an impressive pout.
Daiyu’s dark eyebrows lifted. “Are you?” she asked me. “Hers?”
I almost dropped the beer in my other hand as I pulled my arm back. “I . . .” My eyes darted from Angela to Daiyu, and I felt as if I were the punch line of some private joke between them. I’d never had to deal with you-girl games before. “No. I’m not.” I grinned apologetically when Angela stuck her tongue out at me. “I don’t belong to anyone,” I said.
“You don’t belong to anyone,” Daiyu repeated. “I like that. See you around, then.” She paused after a few steps. “Where do you live, Jason?”
I tried to keep my expression smooth, shocked that she would ask so directly. “Twenty floors below this one. On the sixty-eighth floor.”
She nodded, but not before I caught her brief surprise. The 101 was the most expensive and sought after real estate in all of Taipei, with a long wait list to buy. Residential rentals were prohibited and inventory was limited. The majority of the building was still used as commercial and retail space. But somehow, Victor had managed it with his charm and connections. The apartments started at seventy-five million for a studio.
“Sixty-eighth? What a fortuitous number,” she murmured, then blew Angela a kiss and gave me a small smile before gliding off.
Hell, Jin probably owned the sixty-eighth floor too, just to monopolize all the good numbers and good fortune.
We both watched her go. The layers of white silk swirled around her, and Daiyu seemed lit by the dress itself. “I think she likes you,” Angela said. There was no hint of jealousy in her voice. “How strange,” she added as an afterthought, and I burst into laughter.
What had I gotten myself into?
CHΔPTER SIX
I ignored the sweat seeping into my eyes as I searched the wall above me, trying to decide which handgrip to grab next. I had set the climbing wall in my apartment to medium difficulty and in a moment of spontaneity had decided not to use the harness, belaybot, and rope. I was free climbing for the first time—something that was illegal to do at my old indoor gym. It was too dangerous and a liability risk. Selecting a red grip that protruded from the engineered rock wall, I got a good hold with my fingers before shifting my right foot onto another grip.
I was nearing the top of the twenty-foot wall and reached for the angled overhang above my head. Although I had only asked for a simple rock wall, Victor, in his usual manner, had hired an expert and outdone himself. The synthetic wall could shape and reshape itself to whatever level of difficulty I chose within minutes, in an endless combination, and it spanned from one wall, across the actual ceiling, where it could slope down in various overhangs, to meet the second rock wall on the opposite side. Victor had purchased a belaybot for each side to work the rope as I climbed in harness. He even had horizontal bars installed to hang from the ceiling so I could use them to exercise or to rest from climbing, if needed.
I had pounded his shoulder then hugged him in my excitement when he had first shown me my new apartment. He had actually looked embarrassed as he grinned at me. “I only buy the best,” he said.
A small voice in the back of my head whispered warning as I reached upward, searching for the best path to climb across the ceiling. I’d done it dozens of times before, but never without a harness on. The danger sent a surge of adrenaline and forced me to hyperfocus even more. I selected a purple grip, shifting upward so I hung at a slant from the ceiling. I loved the tunnel vision I experienced when I was climbing. No other thoughts or doubts intruded except for the next best grip to choose for my hands and my feet. My breath quickened and my muscles strained. I consciously drew in a long breath then let out a longer one. I kept moving, shifting, gauging the landscape of grips scattered across the overhang, making sure that my gaze never strayed downward.
All my muscles were fired up but not yet burning. Sweat dripped from my chin onto my bare chest, and it felt as if time had drifted into slow motion. I had woken up this morning feeling like crap, from the alcohol, but also from not knowing what my next move would be with Daiyu. Our short exchange had been so strange.
I shook my head, not wanting to dwell on these thoughts. I couldn’t afford to lose my concentration right now. Any mistake could be a disastrous one. I took another deep, long breath to clear my mind, neck extended to look for my next grip, when the intercom chimed. I knew my doorman Xiao Huang’s face would be on the monitor by my door, even though I didn’t bother to glance down.
“Yeah?” I managed through gritted teeth.
“Miss Jin is here to see you, Mr. Zhou?”
I cursed.
“Mr. Zhou?” Xiao Huang’s disembodied voice drifted up to me.
“Just Jason.”
“Yes, Jason,” he replied.
“Please tell Miss Jin to give me a few minutes.”
Xiao Huang cleared his throat. “She’s actually on her way up now.” He sounded apologetic. “Miss Jin insisted that you had an appointment.” And everyone knew that Miss Jin was the only daughter of Mr. Jin of Jin Corp—who probably owned half of the 101 building.
I almost laughed but didn’t have enough breath. My front door chimed at the same time. “Jason? It’s Daiyu. We met last night?”
“Of course.” I cleared my throat. “Come in.”
My front door unbolted at my voice command, and Daiyu entered, shutting the door noiselessly behind her. I imagined seeing my apartment through her eyes for the first time. It was a study in glass, antique woods, and metals. My king-size bed was set to face the wall of glass and views of Taipei, its low platform and headboard crafted from titanium. Victor had purchased two antique curved-back chairs, beautifully carved, with a square titanium tea table nestled between them. A round glass table with two red brocade side chairs served as my dining table and desk.
“Jason?”
I watched from above as Daiyu walked slowly into the apartment. She was dressed in tight dark purple pants paired with an ivory sweater. The heels of her knee-high boots clicked against my concrete floor. She looked stylish and assured. She looked hot. I couldn’t hang on any longer and swung for the horizontal bar closest to me, grabbing on with both arms, then swinging my legs through, so I could dangle upside down by my knees from the bar, letting my sore arms hang downward.
My movement caught Daiyu’s eye and she glanced upward, then let out a small gasp. “What are you doing up there?”
“Climbing. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“But you’re not using the rope.” She gestured to one of the belaybots near the wall.