Reasonable Doubt: Volume 2 (Reasonable Doubt #2)(14)

“If you want. Just not to my apartment.” I paused. “I’m sure my parents will stop by there after dinner and try to talk to me so...”

“Have you eaten?”

“Lost my appetite...” I said softly, then I smiled. “But if you’re interested in taking me on a date right now, I’m not opposed to that.”

“Why would I take you on a date?”

“Because you owe me one.”

“Since when?”

“You once said that you would take me out if we ever met in person, and you haven’t done it yet.”

We approached a stoplight and he turned to face me.

“If I was even vaguely interested in taking you out right now—which I’m not, where the hell would I take you if you’ve already eaten dinner?”

“Surprise me.” I shrugged and leaned against the glass—shutting my eyes. I could practically picture him staring at me, giving me that “You’re out of your damn mind” look, and as he steered the car back onto the street, I smiled—hoping that this would be the start of us going out regularly.

I was dreaming of him kissing me in the gallery room again when I felt him gently shaking my shoulder.

“Aubrey...” he whispered. “Aubrey, wake up.”

I lifted my head and looked outside my window. There were lush plants and a massive glass paned building—an executive condo. My heart skipped a beat because I knew he’d never taken a woman to his place before, and I was happy that I would be the first.

I looked over at him, ready to say something, but then I saw him fiddling with a green parking pass and I looked out the front window—seeing where we really were.

Outside of a Hilton hotel.

“Your idea of taking me on a date is bringing me to a hotel?”

“It’s more about f**king you in the hotel.”

“Andrew, this is where you take all your other dates...”

“And?”

My heart sank. “Do you not see why bringing me here would hurt my feelings?”

“Would you prefer the Marriott?”

I blinked.

“They don’t have the same standard of room service,” he said, “but if that’s what you prefer—”

“Just take me home—right now.” My voice cracked and I leaned against the window, shutting my eyes again. “I’ll deal with my parents...”

***

I woke up on a plush leather couch, tucked underneath a soft black blanket.

Sitting up, I saw that my shoes had been taken off and placed in a rack on the other side of the room. A tray of fresh fruit and chocolates were sitting on the small table in front of me, and there was a bottle of wine sitting next to two stemmed glasses.

The room looked as if it’d been plucked from a magazine: silk white draperies, taupe walls, and portraits framed in silver. One of those portraits was of a f**king hotel, making it clear exactly where I was.

I immediately tossed the blanket off—ready to find Andrew and yell at him for bringing me here against my wishes. I walked down the hallway, slowly noticing that the pictures hanging on the wall were of him.

In one picture, he was standing on a beach, looking off into the distance. In another he was standing in front of a NYC cab, and in another he was lying against a city park bench.

He was young in all of these photos—his eyes held a more boyish charm, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he looked happy. Extremely happy.

In between all of the larger photos, were small wooden blocks in the shape of an entwined “E” and “H.” At first I thought that the “A” for Andrew’s first name was simply missing, that one of the pieces would bear it, but that wasn’t the case: In the last frame at the end of the hall there was a photo of a huge “E” and “H” that were solely compiled of pictures of New York.

“E” and “H”?

I continued walking down the hallway, smiling at the more “esteemed” photos he’d hung of himself. I stopped when I heard the sound of running water and followed it into a massive bedroom.

Everything was cloaked in black—the sheets that covered the king sized bed, the long silk curtains that hung over the balcony’s French doors, and the plush rug that sat atop his polished wooden floors.

I walked over to his armoire and pulled out the first drawer.

“What are you doing?” Andrew was standing right behind me.

“I was...” I stalled as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “I was looking through your stuff.”

“Looking for anything particular?” He kissed the shell of my ear from behind.

“I’m looking for where you keep all my panties.”

He let out a low laugh. “They’re all next to my bed.” He slid his hand underneath my skirt and stalled once his fingers reached my bare pu**y. “Since you’re not wearing any, do I need to give them back to you?”

I rolled my eyes and he let me go.

“Is this better than a hotel room?” he asked.

“Depends.” I turned around. “How many other women have you had here?”

“None.”

“None?” I couldn’t believe that. “In six years?”

“I like to keep my f**king life separate from my home life.” He clasped my hand.