Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(43)
“Never. You have one?”
“Two, actually.”
“Naturally,” she said. “Let me guess. Two, just in case the other needs an oil change?”
He chuckled.
That wasn’t a no. Bront? laughed and shook her head. He was impossible.
Soon enough, they were at the airport and crossing the runway to a large plane. She’d thought he’d have a tiny plane, but this seemed like a regular-sized one. Just for one person?
The interior was like nothing she’d seen before. Thick, beige carpet covered the floor. On one side of the plane was a wet bar of some sort. On the right, two enormous leather chairs sat across from a table and two additional chairs. A large flat-screen TV was set into the wall, and the entire back of the plane was closed off, with a door barring it. She gawked at the interior, clutching her purse close. This was so not what she was used to.
“Have a seat,” Logan told her, brushing his fingers over her lower back again. “If you’re tired, you can take a nap in the bedroom after we take off.”
“Bedroom?” She looked at him incredulously. “You have a bedroom on this thing?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes I have to take late flights. It makes things easier.”
No kidding. She supposed having your own flying apartment did make things easier. Bront? sat down in one of the chairs, trying not to seem too intimidated.
Chapter Eight
Warm lips brushed her cheek. “We’re here.”
Bront? stirred, embarrassed that she’d fallen asleep in the car. “We are?”
“Yes. We have just enough time to get you situated upstairs, and then I have to head off to my meeting.”
Yawning, Bront? blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to wake up as she followed him out of the car. She stood on a wide sidewalk, the street lined with cars up and down both sides. All around her were tall, elegant buildings. Nearby was an awning and a doorman stood below it, waiting.
Logan leaned over the car and spoke into the window. “Wait here. I won’t be long.” Turning back to her, Logan took her by the arm and began to guide her toward the building with the doorman. “I’ll show you my place, and you can get comfortable.”
“Do you have to go?” She asked, glancing uncomfortably at the doorman as he opened the door for them.
Logan ignored the doorman and headed into the lobby, then toward the elevator. “It’s a meeting I’ve rescheduled twice already. I won’t reschedule it again.” When the elevator dinged, they stepped on, and Logan pushed the button for the forty-fourth floor. “When I get back, we can go out to dinner.”
She nodded, stepping closer to him when the elevator doors opened again and an older woman in a red suit carrying an enormous designer handbag stepped onto the elevator. She smiled at Logan, though her gaze frosted over at the sight of Bront? in jeans and a slobby T-shirt.
Bront? crossed her arms over her chest. Well, now she felt awkward. She smoothed a hand over her sleep-rumpled hair.
The woman got off the elevator ten floors later, and Logan gave her a curious look. “Uncomfortable?”
“Nah,” she lied, drawing the syllable out. “Just thinking that everyone in this building pays more in rent per month than what I make all year. What would make a girl nervous?”
“Don’t worry about what other people think,” he told her, a hint of a smile on his lips. “You’re gorgeous just as you are.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“It is, yes.”
How was it that he managed to defuse her anxiety so easily? She shook her head, unable to stop smiling. “It’s just going to take a bit of getting used to for me.”
The doors opened on the fourty-fourth floor, and they stepped out. Bront? glanced down the hall, surprised to see only one set of doors. “Is this your apartment?”
“It’s the only one on this floor.” He moved forward and slid an electronic key out of his wallet, pushing it into the lock.
“You have an entire floor? For one person?”
He chuckled. “Would you prefer I had a studio?”
“Studios are cozy,” she pointed out, uncomfortable. Why did one person need an entire floor?
“I prefer more living space. A studio doesn’t exactly set the right image for a billionaire.” The door opened with a click, and he gestured for her to enter.
She did, a bit stunned at her surroundings. She knew Logan had money. Lots and lots of money. But it was hard to visualize that. Even the jet, as ridiculous as it had been, hadn’t really made things sink in for her. Walking into his apartment, though, she realized just how much of a strange world she was entering. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before.
For one, it was enormous. Wasn’t the joke that apartments in New York City were the size of closets? This man’s living room was three times the size of her Kansas City apartment. Bront? stared around her in awe. His entire apartment was a showplace. He had vaulted ceilings, delicate crown molding accenting a chandelier in the center of the room. Across from where she stood, the entire south side of his apartment was nothing but windows looking out on the city. In between her and the windows, designer couches were strategically placed on plush Persian rugs over the most gorgeous oak floor she’d ever seen. Nearby he had a fireplace with a marble mantel, and over it was a painting she was pretty sure should have been in a museum somewhere.