12. Juliana

TWELVE

JULIANA

"Is that what I think it is?"

Hayden scratches his head, lost for words.

"Hayden..." I growl.

"Uhhhhh, no?" He smiles sweetly, as two movers pass us through the doorway, carrying my new mattress Hayden paid for without asking, along with a beautiful white bed frame. He also hired movers the moment I parked our U-Haul in front of his glitzy apartment building, amidst mutters about my horrendous driving and poor decision-making skills, having had his fill of near-death and do-it-yourself experiences for one day.

What a baby. My driving wasn't that sketchy. Nobody got hurt. We made it here in one piece. That's what matters. Or it did, until I became the butt-end of a juvenile joke on my first night here.

Lowering my voice, I hiss, "Are you trying to tell me that's not a stripper pole in the very center of my room?"

"No, uhh..." Collecting himself, he clears his throat, flicking his chin confidently. "That's a detached section of the support wall."

"Ohhh, is it now?"

"Yep. You see how the ceiling slopes slightly there...?"

"Uh, huh. Uh, huh." I nod, my eyes all but slicing him with freshly sharpened daggers.

"... Very unstable. Nothing to trifle with. The building's contractor came out and everything, said the place needed a special, reinforced-titanium support beam."

Support. Beam. Did he really just say that stripper pole's a SUPPORT BEAM?!

When the movers turn back around, I suck in a breath, withholding my tongue lashing. My gaze connects with one on his way out, and let's just say, his eyes say all the judgment his mouth doesn't.

Embarrassment burns bright on my cheeks. "And did this fancy support beam come with a disco ball, too?" I jab my finger through the air, pointing to the sparkly glitter bomb spinning circles on the ceiling.

I shoot him a scathing look when a laugh escapes his lips. "Sorry, sorry." He reaches past me, flipping a switch on the wall, putting an end to the light show. "See?"

"Wow, that just makes it all better, doesn't it?" He's about to laugh again, before my hand snaps to my hips. "I'm not playing around." I gesture toward the pole. "You better make them take that thing outta here."

"I can't."

"Why the hell not?"

"It's bolted to the ceiling."

I'm gonna rip my frickin' hair out. Pressing both hands to my temples, I pace down the hallway.

It's only for a couple of months, Juliana. It'll pass by quickly, then you'll get your end of the deal, I coach myself, releasing calming breaths. A few months of immaturity and keeping secrets and faking a connection and re-asserting boundaries and...

Twisting a one-eighty, I nearly trip.

...and living alone with a roommate who looks like that.

Hayden leans against the doorframe, flashing a feline grin that ignites my core in all the right ways. Tracking my every step with amusement, he sweeps his tongue across his porcelain teeth, as if he knows I'm studying him. He would be correct on that assumption. I mean... how couldn't I? Look at him.

Those white chinos paired with that striped polo on that body and head of hair are straight out of a Pinterest mood board. Then you couple it with the whole multi-million-dollar penthouse on Billionaires' Row at the south end of Central Park thing, and it's all just sickening.

Avoiding his intrusive gaze, I pass him by without a glance, instead focusing on the jaw-dropping view at the end of the hallway. I approach with caution, my stomach flip-flopping on each footfall, until I'm an arm's length from the enormous windows, not daring any closer.

And then I stare...

Out into the open city. Through the unobstructed, bird's eye view of the trees and tiny dots of people walking Central Park. No skyscrapers stand in the way, not that one could, anyway, seeing as we're higher than all of them.

When my heartbeat slows, I brave another step. Only an inch. But enough to crane my head down to the city streets below. Wide-eyed, I gape in wonder, debating if my next blink might poof the little taxi cabs stuck in gridlock into fairy dust, awakening me in my eight-by-twelve-foot apartment.

"You'll get used to it," a voice like velvet murmurs close to my ear.

Too entranced to care with whom I'm conversing, I whisper back, "No, I won't."

"You will," it says. Lips brush against my ear, sending a chill racing up my spine. "You can get closer than that."

I shake my head, transfixed by the scene below, just one step away from fully taking it in.

"Yes, you can," it purrs again, making my toes curl in my sneakers. When I don't budge, a soft touch sweeps down the small of my back, nudging slightly, willing my legs into motion. I take a step, only one, another inch and at a crawling pace, but it's enough to warrant a guttural hum in my ear, teeming with praise.

Absentmindedly, my teeth sink into my lower lip, as tingles bloom between my legs and pulse pounds for a whole new reason.

Another nudge, this time earning an immediate response. My toes bump the base of the window, as I'm suddenly void of fear. I press my forehead to the cool glass and gaze straight down, catching glimpses of the windows below, floor after floor after floor, all reflecting off the setting sun like scattered jewels.

I blink, and they only shine brighter.

"That's it," the voice encourages deeply, as warmth envelops my backside. A strong presence I can't help but sink into, when a careful yet demanding touch grabs my nape, applying noticeable pressure. "You like losing control, don't you?" My legs quiver like molten putty as my eyelids fall. "Yeah, you do. That's my good girl."

I gasp.

As if zapped by a live wire, I jolt backward, only to smack into something hard and immobile. My heart ricochets in fear, as I'm suddenly a bird caught without its wings a hundred stories up, staring down the fall.

Breathe... Breathe. You're on even ground. It's just a window. Sturdy, tempered glass, meant for such heights. And look at that, it even comes with two large hands to keep you safe.

Wait, what?

I whirl on my heels, finding myself caged between Hayden's arms. His palms press flat against the glass on either side of my head, even though the shadow of his touch still sends goosebumps along my nape. With a smirk, his eyes rake down my body, leisurely, in a way that makes me feel naked—but just for him.

"You know, Jules, if seeing a stripper pole gets you so worked up, you should think about giving it a spin or two sometime." He winks. "But only if I can watch, of course."

Embarrassment burns my cheeks, setting my whole body aflame. Unable to retort or explain my actions or even look him in the eye, I spring forward, slipping under his arm.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, dollface. It's great exercise!" His laughter bounces through the air as I flee down the hall, unsure of where I'm headed, but confident my legs won't rest until Hayden Kingston and his twisted games are far, far behind me.