Corrupt - Douglas Penelope - Страница 8

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That must be the empty one.

We reached the other apartment door—mine, apparently—and the manager immediately slid the key in and swung the door open, walking right inside.

I watched him saunter off into the apartment, while I remained standing in the doorway, frozen.

“Um…” Okay.

This didn’t make sense. This apartment was huge.

I slowly stepped inside, my arms hanging limply at my sides as I took in the high ceilings, spacious living room, and a full wall of windows, giving away the beautiful patio courtyard, complete with a fountain and actual grass outside. The same black marble floors carried in here from the hallway, but the apartment walls were cream-colored.

“As you can see,” Mr. Patterson began as he went to the window-wall and unlocked the glass. “You have a full gourmet kitchen with top of the line appliances, and you’ll love how the open floor plan preserves your view of the city.”

I glanced at the kitchen, the granite island shining in the sunlight spilling in through the windows. The chrome appliances were just as impressive as the ones in my own home, and the wrought iron kitchen chandelier—simple, sophisticated, and pretty—matched the one hanging above me in the living room.

He went on talking about three bedrooms, heated floors, and a rainfall shower, and I started shaking my head, overwhelmed. “Wait—”

But he cut me off. “There’s a community gym on the second floor as well as an indoor pool. Both are open twenty-four seven, and since you’re in one of the penthouses, you also enjoy a private courtyard.”

My eyebrows narrowed in confusion. I was in a penthouse? What?

“Wait,” I laughed, a little freaked out.

But he just kept going. “There are two doors to your apartment,” he told me, his tone turning serious. “The other one leads to a stairwell in case of a fire, but be sure it’s locked at all times.” He pointed to the end of the hall, and I jutted out my head to see the metal door down the dark hallway. “We are very tight on security here, but I wanted to make you aware of the alternate entrance.”

I brought my hand to my forehead, wiping away the light layer of sweat. What the hell was going on? The apartment was already completely furnished with expensive-looking sofas, tables, and electronics, and I watched him pick up a tablet and start to work the privacy glass on the wall of windows facing the city.

“Now let me show you—”

“Wait,” I blurted out, cutting him off. “I’m sorry. I think there’s been a mistake. I’m Erika Fane. I leased a one bedroom with one bath—not a penthouse. I have no idea whose apartment this is, but I’m paying rent for something much, much smaller.”

He looked confused, and then he picked up his file folder, probably checking his information.

Not that I didn’t love the penthouse, but I wasn’t forking over thousands of dollars every month for something I didn’t need.

He breathed out a laugh, studying the paperwork. “Ah, yes. I forgot.” He looked up at me. “That apartment was rented out unfortunately.”

My shoulders dropped, disappointment hitting me. “What?”

“It was a mix-up, and we’re very sorry. I was advised by the owners to honor the contract you had signed as an apology. There were two penthouses, both vacant, so we saw no reason why you shouldn’t have one of them. Your lease is still for a year, and your rent will remain the same during that time.” He held out the keys to me. “No one called you?”

I stared off, reaching out and taking them.

“No,” I answered. “And I’m still a little confused. Why would you give me twice the amount of apartment for the same price?”

He offered a smile, straightening his shoulders. It was how my mother looked growing up when she was done answering questions.

“As I said,” he placated, “we’re very sorry about the mix-up. Please accept our deepest apologies, and I hope this penthouse meets your expectations as you continue your studies this year.” He bowed his head. “Please let me know if you need anything, Miss Fane. I am at your service.”

And then he brushed past me, out of the apartment and closing the door behind him.

I stood there, feeling my stomach churn like the wind had been knocked out of me. I couldn’t believe it. How had this happened?

I turned in a slow circle, taking in the room, the reality, and, most of all, the silence. I was completely alone up here.

And although it was beautiful, I’d been excited about sleeping on an air mattress tonight before I went out to buy my own furniture tomorrow. I’d been excited about a small, cozy apartment and neighbors.

But school started in two days. I didn’t have time to find another place. “Dammit,” I growled under my breath.

Trailing slowly down the hallway, I wandered in and out of all the rooms, finding the spacious bathroom with a double vanity and a slate-tiled shower. Swinging open cabinets next to the sink, I noticed towels and wash clothes stocked and ready, as well as a loofah.

And then, trailing into the master bedroom, I noticed that is was already set up with a king-sized bed and furniture that matched the white bedding and drapes. The damn clock on the nightstand was already set, too.

Unbelievable. Everything was done for me. Just like at home.

The decor may be slightly different, and the scenery had certainly changed, but my life hadn’t. Everything was taken care of already. I’d even bet that if I opened the refrigerator, I’d find that stocked, as well.

Got to hand it to those Thunder Bay mothers making sure one of their princesses was tucked in all tight. There’s no way this was a welcome committee just leaving a basket of fruit.

I shook my head, feeling the walls close in.

The women in Thunder Bay were busy ladies. They were powerful, influential, and thorough, and as their children, we sat comfortably under that umbrella. I even more so, because my father was deceased, and my mother was…weak.

As a kid, I’d appreciated the safety of the shelter they provided, but I wanted to do things for myself now. Space, distance, and maybe a little trouble. That’s what I was looking for.

I let out a sigh and slipped the keys into the pocket of my white jean shorts. Grabbing the hem of my black sweater, I pulled it up and over my head, leaving me in my short-sleeved gray T-shirt.

Walking back through the apartment, I stepped across the open threshold from the living room and into the courtyard, my toes in my black flip-flops touching the grass. Gazing around the expansive area, I noticed that it was designed in the shape of a rectangle, with one long side open to offer a view of the city.

To my left, I saw more windows, probably belonging to the vacant apartment I shared the floor with. And then, turning right, my gaze drifted up, up, up, and I craned my neck to see the floor above me, whose residence curved around the side of the building, making the windows partly visible from here.

It also appeared to have more than one balcony and a perfect view into the courtyard. I wondered if a family live there, to need so much space, but then I remembered Mr. Patterson saying “he.”

I let my gaze linger on his windows, realizing I wasn’t alone up here, after all.

I BLINKED AWAKE, the blanket of sleep weighing heavy as I lay on my stomach hugging my pillow.

My ears perked, hearing a tapping sound coming from somewhere far away.

Tap, tap, tap…tap…tap

I leaned up on my arms, trying to bring my eyes into focus.

Was that knocking? But who would be knocking? I didn’t know anyone here—not yet anyway. I’d just arrived today, and I didn’t have any neighbors…

And—I glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand—it was after one in the morning.

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