Faking Forever (First Wives #4)(68)

Shannon followed Gary across the room, her sensible heels making clicking noises as she went.

He pointed out a kitchen space that needed a good update before leading her to a stairway. Up the stairs she found a bedroom, flooded with light from outside, where the view just got better.

“Seven hundred square feet of bedroom space for you, Shannon. Even if you decide to buy something somewhere else, you can always use this space to crash after you’ve had one too many or want to find a new lover in town.”

She grinned, ran her hand down the curtains that weren’t all that bad. “Do you hide your lovers from each other, Gary?”

“Men are much more jealous than women, so yes.”

She already knew about Gary’s sexual orientation but found it refreshing to have someone she barely knew talk so openly about it.

“I’m not so sure. Women can be vicious.”

He waved her off, started toward the back of the bedroom to what she assumed was a bathroom. “Women scratch, men use their fists.” He paused. “Well, some, anyway.”

It was a bathroom, light gray slate and clean lines.

“A man must own this space.”

“Yes. But tasteful, don’t you think?”

She considered it with a tilt of her head. These kinds of decisions never came easy.

“It would take some renovations.”

Gary seemed to like her comment—his cheeky smile grew. “I know plenty of contractors.”

Shannon shook her head. She’d ask Liam for that advice. Avery’s husband was a contractor, and if he couldn’t do it, he would steer her in the direction of someone that could.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a lease option to buy, darling. The owners moved out of California ten years ago and they’re tired of owning rental property. You try it on for size and see how it fits, or make them an offer.”

Having an out felt safe.

Did she want safe?

What was safe doing for her?

“But let me caution you. If you renovate and make it exactly as you want it, the property will be worth more, and there is no guarantee the owners will accept the offer you could give now.”

He’d already presented her with leasing and ballpark purchasing numbers. All of which were within her budget. While she wouldn’t have to sell her home, she’d already made the decision to do so. That financial move would make her cash rich and real estate poor. Not something her financial manager would approve of.

Her phone rang. Victor’s name lit up her screen. Butterflies jolted within her chest, and the memory of his scent pushed away the stale air in the room.

It rang again.

“I’m going to take this,” she told Gary.

“Of course. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

She clicked on his call. “Good morning.”

“Mmmmm,” was his greeting. “Say that again.”

She bit her smile. “Good morning.”

“That’s sexy. It would be better if you were in my arms and we were just waking up, but I’ll take what I can get.”

It was Tuesday. Only two days since she’d seen him after waking up in his home and discovering she had a working vagina. True to his word, he hadn’t pressured her to have intercourse. They spent an insane amount of time talking, and an even more insane amount of time kissing and touching. It was almost as if she were back in high school and more was forbidden. Victor had been right, it did somehow erase several letters from the word asshole that she’d labeled him as when they met.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” she teased.

“I am. Where are you?”

“In Santa Monica, looking at loft space.”

“That was fast.”

She’d told him about her desire to switch directions over breakfast and the possibility of selling her home. He’d listened, but she wasn’t sure how much of what she said he’d actually heard.

“I’m just looking. I’m not good at these decisions.”

“Is this business space or living space?”

“Both . . . I think. Or it could be if I wanted it.” Although it wouldn’t work for a family, it did work for a single woman.

“My office isn’t far away. Have lunch with me and tell me about it.”

Her first instinct was to tell him no. Go back to the countdown of days. Again the word safe flashed in her head.

“What’s the address?”

“Let’s meet at a restaurant.”

“You don’t want your employees to see me?”

Victor laughed. “My employees know all about you. I’ve found no less than three copies of the magazine we managed to show up in scattered all over the break room, lobby, and boardroom. My receptionist has had to ask two pop feature writers to leave today. If you come here, my guess is they’ll snag more photographs and make up more lies.”

The article had been packed with mistruths. The biggest one being that Victor and Shannon had met before the doomed wedding in Tulum. So far the paper had painted Victor the villain and Corrie and Shannon the innocent victims. Sadly, it made Shannon sound like a weak woman being taken advantage of. She was surprised to hear that the media was knocking on Victor’s door. There wasn’t a story worth telling there. Still, she knew better than to test fate.