Page 71 of Shades of Grey & Gold

It smells like his signature scent of leather, cedar, and burnt salt—that weird metallic smoke smell I still haven’t been able to place. He leads me for a few seconds and then we stop. He turns me slightly, and places both his hands on my shoulders. I can feel him standing behind me as he runs his hands down my arms.

“Open.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Max

Iopenmyeyesand see a wooden door in front of me with elaborately engraved markings. They swirl from the bottom to the top, creating small flowers and stars, a moon and a sun.

“You got me a door! I love doors!”

I beam, glancing at him over my shoulder.

“Jesus, Max.” He’s exasperated as he takes my right hand and places it on the golden door handle. “It’s a push door, not a pull door, hopefully that’s toyour liking.”

“Aw, I can’t accept this if it’s not a pull doo—”

He pushes my hand down and I laugh, “Okay, okay!”

I push the door open and take a step inside, my eyes adjusting to the dim lighting.

And my jaw drops.

It’s an office. An office that someone might have ripped out of my fantasies.

It’s the kind of office that stops you for a second when you walk in—not because it’s flashy, but because every single thing is intentional. And my eyes can’t stop bounding from corner to corner to log every little thing.

The ceilings stretch high, ten feet at least, just like Cal’s office, but unlike Cal’s office, this one has natural wood beams and soft gold accents that catch the light from a vintage chandelier overhead. It isn’t bright, just warm enough to make every corner feel alive.

Two velvet couches face each other in the center of the room. I take a step towards them. One a deep eggplant purple, the other a dark teal. A thick white knit blanket is draped over the arm of one. Between them sits a low, ornate coffee table with curved legs and a smooth natural wooden surface, bare except for a small candle and a couple of large, vintage books.

On the far wall, an electric fireplace flickers behind a carved, natural stone mantel, the flame surprisingly convincing. Above it hangs an oversized gold mirror that reflects both the light and the quiet.

“Sorry, building code won’t let us have a real fireplace,” his whisper in my ear ignites something inside of me, and I spin to face him. “But you can’t keep working on a chair in the living room.”

I open my mouth to ask what this is; how he did this. But then I see it.

A natural wood desk anchors the other side of the room, its gold trim subtle and elegant. Only a few pieces of paper are spread across the surface, the rest is empty, a clean canvas. Behind it, a wall of shelves climbing to the ceiling, half-filled with large, beautiful books in deep, muted tones, half empty, waiting to be filled.

A cluster of LED candles glows softly in one corner beside a potted plant with long trailing leaves. More plants hang from gold hooks near the window beside the desk, their vines brushing against heavy velvet curtains that frame a flood of natural light.

I take a few steps past Cal to the desk and trace my fingers along the front. An arrangement of carved, gold-painted moon phases stretches across the desk’s face.

“The moon phases.”

“I tried to make it exactly like you described.”

I twist back around, and his face is inches from mine.

I think about the past two weeks and the random comments I made about the décor around the penthouse. There is no way he got all of this from the few comments about dark wood and plants.

“You used to dream out loud about your fantasy office before you graduated, you don’t remember?”

I’m speechless. Because, yes, I guess I do remember that, but I didn’t realize he had filed those dreams away for later.

His smile is small as he leans both hands on the desk beside me, caging me in. “How’d I do, Sims?”

I glance behind him at the magnificent space and laugh incredulously. “Is this like the syrups? You just did this hoping I’d show up one day?”