flops onto his back, putting his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. “Fuck, I’m tired.”
I sit up, stretching. “Go to sleep.”
“Are you angry at me?”
“No, Beck, I’m not. A little surprised maybe, but not angry.” I crawl down the mattress to tug at his boots. First one, then the other, hit the floor with a thump. Matías better not be a light sleeper. I undo his belt buckle, drawing it out carefully before tossing it too aside. “Do you want your pants on or off?”
His eyelids are closed now. “Whatever.”
I climb off the mattress, heading into the bathroom. In a good and just world, everyone with a hangover would wake to a glass of water and some Advil waiting on their bedside table. It’s only humane. Next, I get back into bed, cuddling up to his side. One of his arms comes around me, hand slipping beneath my T-shirt to rest on my hip. As usual, he slips his fingers under the elastic of my panties. And just leaves them there.
“I’m sorry my mother terrified you into buying property,” I say.
He lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s fine. There’s a small chance I overreacted. But don’t tell anybody else that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Turn in here.”
“This driveway?” I ask.
He nods and I steer my G-Class into a discreet entry for a big old four-story brown brick building. An art gallery, boutiques, and a coffee shop sit either side. It’s only about five blocks away from the Heritage.
Today I dressed for comfort. Plain white leather Gucci sneakers, my secondhand Levi’s, and a loose navy jersey pullover I think was bought in hopes of me taking up yoga or some such. Ha-ha. As if I’d bend at the waist for anybody. No makeup. A pair of silver framed aviator Ray-Bans cover half of my face. If anyone was lying in wait outside the Heritage to take pictures then they can kiss my frazzled ass.
“The code is 21145,” he says. “It was built in 1934 and has been shops and offices and all sorts of things over the years. The owner of the art gallery next door bought it and started renovating it, turning it into a home about eight years back.”
The metal gate rolls up and I head down a steep incline into an underground parking lot half filled with vehicles and a couple of motorcycles. Each and every one of them gleams, polished to perfection. One is the Bugatti from yesterday, but the others are new to me. In the middle are a few empty parking spaces sitting before the silver doors of an elevator. This is where I pull in and turn off the engine.
“Are all of these yours?” I ask.
“Yeah. I had Smith organize to bring them over earlier.”
“Where were they before?”
“At the Heritage in a locked parking area.”
I nod. “That’s a lot of cars.”
“I like things that go vroom. And you.” Once we’re out of the G-Class, Beck does a quick inventory. “The Bugatti Chiron you already know. Followed by the Bentley Flying Spur sedan, and the Bentley Bentayga SUV.”
“A car for every occasion. You like brands that start with the letter B.”
He stuffs his hands in his pants pockets. “Does that make me narcissistic?”
“Not sure. But it does make you a fan of alliteration. I think you have very good taste.”
“Thank you,” he says. “Dad actually had a huge collection of American Muscle. It drove him crazy that I loved the European car makers. But you see the Maserati GT in the corner? He gave me that for my sixteenth birthday. I’d broken my arm skateboarding in New York a couple of months before. Called him from the hospital to tell him, but he never answered. About a week later he had an assistant call to check on me. Rachel lit into him when she found out. The Maserati was mostly my apology, I think. Or him trying to get his ex-wife off his back. Of course, the Escalade behind it was bought for me by Ethan the day after my birthday so I wouldn’t crash my stupid sports car speeding on icy roads and kill myself pretending I was playing a video game. That’s an exact quote from him.”
“That’s sweet.”
“It is,” Beck agrees with a grin. “He’s more bark than bite. Ready to go upstairs?”
“Whenever you are.”
Beck points to a door in the back wall. “Gym, sauna, laundry, storage, and the back staircase are through there.”