The Ahern Brothers Collection - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,16
I can’t help but feel the magnetic attraction. A strong pull that is like an invisible thread tugging my heart towards his.
“You were unsure,” he taps my nose lightly.
Wes turns to the driver who is unloading my bags from the trunk. “Thank you, Aaron. I’ll take it from here.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
“Yes, go back to your family, and thanks again for bringing her home safe.”
“Your things arrived earlier today,” he says, grabbing my bags. “I made sure that the movers set up the boxes according to your labels.”
“The perks of this new job never cease to amaze me,” I comment as we walk toward the big black, glass door. “You not only moved my things, but you made sure they’re in the right place. What else do you have in store for me?”
He hands me a black plastic card.
“Credit card?” I stare at the unmarked object in my hand. “You already gave me one of those.”
“Which you never use.” He furrows his brow. “But actually, that’s the keycard to enter all access points.”
He swipes a similar card in front of the black box next to the door, which then buzzes and clicks. Wes pulls it open.
“After you, my lady.” He winks at me.
My jaw drops at the opulent foyer. Marble floors, expensive paintings, and a cherry wood desk receive me. Wes explains to me that there are concierge services from six in the morning until seven at night. The elevator opens when he taps the up arrow. We step inside. He swipes the card in front of the small metal box under the keyboard and then presses PH2.
“How am I not surprised that you live in the penthouse?”
“You toured this place with me a couple of years ago.”
I frown for a second, and then I remember he FacedTimed me while shopping for a new place. “That was almost five years ago,” I point out. “I always thought it was downtown.”
“Everyone loved this place, you and Mom the most.”
At the mention of his mom, I regret not calling her since graduation day, a month ago.
“How’s Linda doing?”
“Dealing,” he answers.
I feel a pang in my chest when he says that. Wes’ father died a little more than a year ago, leaving the company in his hands. Linda couldn’t function for the first few months. Later, she decided to move to Arizona with her sister. Wes and Sterling fought her, but I supported her because I understood her reasoning.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“I feel like she’s lost touch with reality. She’s organizing a trip to Italy with her friends—she’s paying for everyone.” He shrugs.
“If that’s what makes her happy.”
“Hopefully, after that, she’ll decide to come back home.”
“You’re still hoping?” I squeeze his arm lightly.
“Faith and hope are all we have,” he mumbles, repeating a saying that Linda uses often.
The death of his father hit him harder than he wanted to admit to everyone around him. He adored him. Well, he was really close to both of his parents. Wes visited them at least twice a week and saw William daily at work. The day that Will died of a heart attack, Wes caught a flight to come see me, leaving everything else behind. He couldn’t deal with the loss.
“I need one day,” he said when I opened the door of my apartment. “Tomorrow I’ll go back and be strong enough for Mom and Sterling.”
Sterling only came for the funeral and went away to Italy for a while. It was up to Wes to take care of everything.
“It doesn’t matter where she lives. She loves you,” I remind him.
“You’re right, and I should be happy because you’re back.”
When we arrive on his floor, I stare at the two doors across from each other.
“I’m surprised.” I touch my sternum. “You don’t own the entire floor, Mr. Ahern?”
His wealth knows no end, at least that’s how the business magazines like to word it. There are always limits to one’s assets, but I guess journalists these days just like to spit words carelessly. Every time I see one of those articles, I send it to him with my commentary. Sometimes it seems like the entire world is watching him closely. With a few clicks, anyone can find out who he’s dating, his latest deals, what he’s acquired or sold since his father died. Every step he takes is critical because he’s William Ahern’s son.
“Actually, I own both units, Miss Sarcasm,” he responds, marching toward the door on the left.