Read episode 35 here: http://bit.ly/allureserial
The building on East 78th was awe-inspiring. Timeless, like so many of the structures that were born out of the 18th century obsession with Classicism. Pure white on the outside, with different style windows on the top portion of the building, my jaw dropped the moment I caught sight of it.
The building itself had been here for hundreds of years.
However, the interior had recently been gutted, one floor at a time, a renovation ten years in the making.
I stood inside the main floor of the duplex penthouse, one of only two on the upper part of the building, and this was the only one sporting the double-story, arched windows. I couldn’t stop gawking for the life of me.
Dorian’s old penthouse had a hell of a view.
This one was determined to outdo and eclipse that. Almost every room on this floor was its own conservatory, with views of Central Park outside most of the windows.
Sorensen Architecture would call this one of the crown jewels in its portfolio now that the building was re-opened and the new residences up for sale.
It never occurred to me that Dorian would consider calling this home. When he said he would go apartment hunting, I never thought it would be one of the places his firm designed.
Coming up behind me, Dorian placed his hand on my lower back and nuzzled my cheek. “Someone is in love. I can tell.”
As much as I loved him, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the view of this place long enough to acknowledge him.
“It truly is one of the best places to live in the city,” the broker who was giving us the tour said, clearly salivating at the idea of selling this bad boy right away.
And to the owner of the company that renovated the place.
The pay cut would be astronomical. No lie.
Chuckling, Dorian led me away from the grand foyer, past one of the many sitting areas, and toward a staircase with a gorgeous balustrade that sported an eye-catching design. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll tour the second floor with my girlfriend myself. I know the design by memory, after all.”
Our broker had effectively been dismissed.
She wanted the paycheck too badly to object, obviously, and had no choice but to oblige.
Dorian led me up the stairs to the second floor. It was somehow even more gorgeous than the first. We passed a second sitting room, and continued down a wide hallway with a plush, beige runner. We didn’t stop until we were inside what was clearly the master bedroom.
Hands around my waist, he leaned down and rested his chin on my shoulder. Together, we stood before the bed, and I knew he was waiting for me to say something.
But I couldn’t. My throat was too tight. It was a struggle just to swallow.
Eventually, Dorian gave up waiting for me to talk on my own. “So? What do you think? Can you imagine it?”
“Imagine what, exactly?” I whispered. He’d hinted it, but he hadn’t stated it point blank yet.
Suddenly, I really, really needed him to. Because despite all my warnings to myself not to read too much into his comments, not to dream too far into the future, or want the impossible, I was where I’d told myself I wouldn’t be.
Envisioning a new phase in our relationship.
One that went so far beyond what we’d already shared.
Dorian brought me flush against him. I shouldn’t have been surprised to feel his semi pressing into my ass—my man was always ready to go. We were in a room, alone, with a massive bed calling our name.
I was thinking about it.
He definitely was, too.
“You know what I’m talking about, baby.” He placed a soft kiss against the side of my neck. “But since you need me to spell it out for you . . . You. Me. Here. Making this our home.”