Hooked 4 (Hooked #4)(6)

“So. You bought this entire place?” I asked as we sauntered up.

“Oh, yes. I longed to have a big place, you know. To feel like the king of something. When I lived in New York, I had something like eight hundred square feet. It wasn’t working for me.”

“I imagine not,” I murmured, as I thought about my three-hundred square feet and what I would kill for just an inch more.



CHAPTER THREE

He unlocked the door and led me into a great foyer. The floor was gleaming, even in its age.

“This used to be a small hotel, actually,” he explained. “See the front desk?”

He was right. Next to the entrance was a great front desk. The mailboxes were still behind the desk, as were all the hanging keys. “Wow. Are all the rooms still there?” I asked.

“They sure are. But I’m going to knock them all down.” He placed a finger over his throat and made a cutting motion. He grinned crookedly. “Come on. Let’s head to the kitchen. I need a drink. It was a long day.”

I nodded, trying not to think about the fact that his long day meant destroying and re-building the very place my building had been. “Of course. Let’s grab a drink.”


I followed him beyond the front desk, toward the back kitchen. We passed a grand dining hall, where I imagined—once it was fixed up—Drew would have grand, illustrious parties, like out of a storybook. A large mirror stood on the other side of the room, reflecting us as we rushed by. I watched my purple dress glide behind me like a cape.

The old kitchen had been used for large meals, for a restaurant, Drew explained. He had brought his great wine collection here, and he hoped to make a cellar in the back of the kitchen for all the wine, for easy reaching. I nodded as he parsed through the reds, searching. He finally chose an aged Merlot. He opened it, allowing it to breathe for a moment.

“Do you want to tell me about your day?” he asked. He seemed almost obtrusive.

But I quelled my nervous thoughts. “You know. It’s been a good day.” I slapped my legs lightly. “I had a class today.”

“Oh, you did? Baby ballerinas?”

“Actually, older women. It helps with their pain and their weight. They love it. And I think they love me.”

“Oh, gosh. I’m sure they do,” Drew said. He began to pour the wine into our glasses. I watched as it glugged, like a river spewing from the beautiful bottle. “You know. We should dance together again sometime.”

I brought the wine to my lips, tasting the dry, almost-fruity nature of the liquid. I smiled, allowing it to coat my tongue. “You really think you were that good, dancing with the likes of me?”

“I mean. I know everyone at the benefit thought we were really something special,” Drew said, winking at me. Suddenly, he spun back around and began sauntering out of the kitchen, back toward the foyer. For a moment, I thought surely that he was going to make me leave, that our fun was over.

But instead, he began leading me upstairs. I followed him slowly, looking around me, trying to assess what could be done to make this house what it could be. I placed my hand on my hair, feeling a bit self-conscious. Was I the only person who’d ever seen this crumbling place before? Did I really mean so much to him?

He led me to the second of four floors. The long hallway stretched before us, showing us ten small hotel rooms. He began rushing down the hallway, opening each of the doors. “It’s all mine, can you believe it?” he called back, laughing.

I laughed too, walking behind his rushing form. I peered into each room. They all had such a musty smell. I was certain they hadn’t been used in many months. Even the bedspreads stayed on the bed, each with a strange, flower-filled pattern.

We reached the end of the hallway and then we spun around, gazing down the path.

“What could I do with this floor, do you think?” he asked, scratching at his chin.

I thought for a moment. “Would you want this to be sort of like—the family room? We knock out all the rooms, of course. And we have a fireplace that connects to the one downstairs. We have grand couches, big televisions. For the games, or whatever.” I could see it forming in my head: this grand space with shining wooden floors. “You could have a smaller, separate kitchen up here. One for different occasions. More microwaves,” I murmured, tapping my nose.

He laughed and tried to imagine it, closing his eyes. “The sporting room. The game room. The guy room.” He nodded and smiled at me. “I love it. Let’s do more.”

He rounded the corner to the staircase. We zoomed up to the third floor and discovered that part of the floor had actually been used as a small library. I suggested we expand the library, make it grand. “It could be your study room—the room you drink coffee and read the paper in. The room with the best view, certainly.” I peered out the window at the rushing streets below, one of the books from the library in my hand. I loved this beautiful place; it already felt sort of like a hiding spot from the rest of the world.

“One more floor, Molly.” He led me up the steps to the final floor. “I’ve already knocked out much of the rooms on this floor. I want this to be my bedroom.” He opened the door and revealed the top floor. Great, stretching windows flew over the bedspread, allowing us full view of the stunning Chicago skyline. I caught my breath, sighing at the wonder of it.