By the time we arrived at Nicholas’s penthouse on the Upper East Side, he had passed out on my lap. Several times during the journey, he had attempted to undress himself, overcome by drunken concern that he might 'catch his death of cold' in the heated luxury vehicle. Thankfully, our driver had intervened with some impromptu assistance, putting those fears to rest.
I absentmindedly toyed with his damp curls as the car pulled up to the curb.
The first time I saw this place, it had stunned me. Another glimpse into the world of the wealthy and influential that had left me breathless.
Now? I knew the names of every bellboy and receptionist. I knew which days to collect the mail so Nicholas wouldn’t encounter unflattering headlines about himself. I knew his allergies and preferred chefs in t
