PENELOPE
Liam’s directions were clear—turn right past the entryway, second hallway, third door. But still, I found myself tiptoeing like I’d broken in. Which, technically, I had. Into his space.
The penthouse was… quiet. Not dead-quiet, but quiet. Warm lights glowed against the smooth ash-colored walls.
But what caught my eyes first was the POP, the grand pristine white ceiling design, it was sleek and very geometric, it had soft gold lights tucked into each corner like a hidden treasure. I remember one time when Christian and I had followed his friend Alan, to go get something nice for his wife, Naomi in Greece.
While Alan was dealing with the payments, Chris and I had sat down together just criticizing just how awful the POP of that store was. It was so awful, so not straight. It
