She leads me to a car at the curb, and a huge man I recognize from the signing opens the door to a Suburban. “Thank you, Greg,” Claire says.
He shuts the door once the three of us are loaded.
“Where should we go?” Claire looks at Landon.
“My place,” he replies.
I look at him through squinted eyes. “What’s the plan?”
“We can get an early start on tomorrow.” Landon looks at his sister expectantly.
While I may own twenty percent of the company, Claire and Landon together own fifty percent, the investor owns twenty percent, and the employees own ten percent. I don’t have much sway. Right now, I just keep thinking I’ve made a colossal mistake, arranging things so I have to spend the next ten years with a man my body can’t help but respond to. I need to talk to Chrissy and get her advice.
“Greg, can you take us to Landon’s place?” Claire asks.
We drive toward Union Station, and I’m stunned when the car stops in front of The Adams. It’s considered the most exclusive high rise in all of San Francisco—fifty stories of unimpeded views of the Bay Bridge, Twin Peaks, downtown, and the Marina District. The building takes up almost half a city block, and each floor has two apartments, except the penthouse, which has one.
I’ve dreamed of spending some of the money I just got to buy into this building. A unit recently went up for sale, but it’s being kept quiet. I only know because I’ve been watching.
The doorman opens the car door. Doorman? Who in San Francisco has a doorman?
“Thanks, Mike,” Landon says as he exits. He offers his hand to his sister and then to me to help us out of the back.
We follow him into the dramatic, black and white, two-story lobby. I’ve seen it in pictures on the Architectural Digest website, but the images pale in comparison to this. The second floor is lined with bookshelves, overflowing with beautiful books, and high-backed chairs with ottomans for reading. The palatial entrance is home to a full-time staff and doubles as a gallery for a curated art exhibit from the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.
Landon stops at the Parisienne-style reception console, which somehow manages to be antique and modern all at once. The woman behind the desk exclaims, “Welcome home, Mr. Walsh.” She hands him his mail.
“Thank you, Dee.” Turning to us, he asks, “What are we up for for dinner tonight? Thai? Chinese? Indian? Japanese? Italian? Vegan?”
I shrug. “I’m easygoing.” I smile smugly. Go ahead, Peter. Let’s tell Claire what we did last night.
I can see he wants to respond. His jaw flexes, and he looks like a wolf stalking its prey.
Claire seems entirely unaware of what’s going on. “Let’s go for Thai,” she says. “I’m dying for some tom young goon. That spicy soup will clear out my sinuses.”
“Thai it is. I’ll have pad thai with shrimp,” I say.
“Pad see ew for me, then,” Landon informs the woman behind the console.
“I’ll have that delivered shortly, and Jonah will bring it up.” She takes some notes and sends us off with a smile.
“Hi, Landon.” A perky redhead with a substantial bosom approaches in form-fitting yoga pants. “Where have you been?”
“This is part of his harem,” Claire whispers. “Just watch. It’s usually a great show.”
“Hey, Tiff.” He looks at us, and I see Peter from last night emerge. “I’ve been around.”
She touches his arm. “Marla’s coming back into town. She’d love a repeat.”
Claire looks at me and rolls her eyes.
My insides revolt, and I think I need to vomit. He’s a manwhore. Of course he is. He’s a good-looking guy with a big bank account, very alpha and overly confident. Why did I break my sex-fast with him?
“We’ll see.” He winks at her, and she giggles.
I shake my head and Claire turns and walks to the elevator. “My brother is the stupidest man on Earth. I swear he’s slept with all the single—and probably a few married—women in this building.”
The knife in my stomach twists. The next ten years are going to be painful.
“Do you live in the building, too?” I ask.
“Gawd, no! I lived with him growing up. It’s bad enough that I work with my older brother now. I’ve been renovating one of the houses off of Lombard, on the most crooked part of the street. It had been converted into two flats, and I’m converting it back to one. The view out the front is the gardens and the trail of cars. The view out the back is Alcatraz and the North Bay.”
“And, she’s pissing off all her neighbors since she blocks the alley with her construction trucks,” Landon adds as he rejoins us.
“I am not. When the crews get deliveries, it’s typically during the day. The rest of the time, they’re in my driveway and garage.”
Landon flashes his key fob, and the elevator takes us up. Claire and Landon barb back and forth, but they’re not antagonistic, which should make working with them fun.
When the elevator doors open, Landon takes four strides in. But I find myself still standing in place. I’m shocked. My eyes are riveted to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and it takes me a minute to realize he has the most coveted piece of property in San Francisco.
Landon steps back toward me and whispers in my ear. “You can close your mouth and stop drooling.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had the penthouse apartment in The Adams.”
“We went to high school with the architect, so he had
