Page 13 of Insatiable Bachelor (Bachelor Tower 1)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dalton
It’s late by the time my driver drops me off in front of Bachelor Tower. I consider texting Penny, but she’s probably listening for the sound of my door opening. I like the idea of her coming to me.
After her admission that she was talking to her friends about me, it wasn’t so much a matter of if she would—but when. It had been a long, frustrating day, but if the opportunity presented itself, I could muster the energy for a night that would likely change Penny’s one-hand policy.
I stop before entering the lobby as a thought slams through me. I don’t like the idea of Penny going from me to someone else. No, I don’t like that one fucking bit.
I shake my head as if to dislodge that unwelcome realization, but it doesn’t. I’ve never been the jealous type. No way in hell will any woman turn me into that guy.
“Mr. Croft,” the doorman, Robert, breathes out nervously as he tugs my arm. No one tugs me. But I can tell that something is wrong. “You need to help me with her.”
“Who?”
“Miss Penny,” Robert whispers as he pulls me through a door and into a small office. It’s a pitiful square space with a few doorman coats hanging up in the corner. But I don’t have time to scan the rest of the room. Penny is in the corner with an ice pack on her head and smeared mascara under her red-ringed eyes. She’s been crying. Who the fuck hurt her? I have bail money and friends in criminal law if I have to kill someone.
“What happened?” I ask, looking from her to Robert and demanding an answer.
“She had a problem with her key again—”
“They did it again,” she slurs, immediately giving away the fact that she’s drunk. “Then I fell. Damn martinis. I said no more, never again, but Millie said just one.” She waved her finger wildly in air. “It had a sidecar the size of a pitcher. Damn martinis.”
“She’s not bleeding,” Robert reports, staring at the door to the office. “I tried to make her a new key, but the system is down. When I tried to explain it to her, she started to cry and said she didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t know what to do. You two are friends, so I thought you could help. Should we call someone?”
“I’ve got this,” I say, letting the friends comment die on the vine. “Come on. We’ll figure the key thing out.” These assholes are taking this too far. I help her up then guide her toward the elevator.
“Where are we going?” she asks in a slurred tone as we step into the elevator.
“To my place.”
She stiffens beneath my hand. “I don’t know if that’s a good—”
“Trust me, the last thing on my mind tonight is screwing you.” My gut tells me real trouble is brewing for her if she stays, and I’m conflicted. Neither she nor her sister belong here. They have literally brought chaos to what had been my haven. Everything that made sense to me before she showed up is now jumbled and muddy.
Her bottom lip quivers. “I already feel awful. Are you trying to make me feel worse?”
I pull her to my chest and hug her because—fuck—no, I don’t want her to feel bad. I’m half ready to promise to help her, but that would be the final nail in the coffin of the possibility that Bachelor Tower might ever go back to normal. “You don’t belong here, Penny,” I say gently. “There are other places your sister can live. If you call her and tell her you can’t stay, I’m sure she’ll find something else.”
We step out of the elevator and she waves a hand around wildly. “No one—no one is running me off.” She sways on her feet and her hand moves to her bruised forehead. “But they’re beginning to piss me off.”
Ben appears before I decide what to answer.
“What happened, Penny?”
Wait, they’re on a first-name basis?
“They locked me out again, Ben,” she says in a forlorn voice.
“And your forehead?”
“I fell,” she steps away from me to show him. “And the key system is down so no key tonight. I’m sure they did that too.”
Ben frowns. “That doesn’t sound right. I’ll go down and see what I can do. Maybe it needs a reboot.”
She touches his arm and smiles up at him. “You’d do that? Thank you. You’d be my hero.”
“It’s nothing. My apartment is doubling as my office for now, so I’m always here if you need me. Just call.”
“I will, thanks,” Penny says at my doorway.
I open the door to my apartment with more force than necessary as the little green monster in me rears his head again. Never, never in my life, had I imagined I would ever feel threatened by Ben, but he was laying on the nice-guy shit thick. That’s a card I don’t keep in my deck.
Penny steps inside and I follow.
Ben gives me an odd look from outside my door. I’m tempted to tell him to get lost, but he did say he would get Penny a new key. I can tell he’s waiting for an invitation to come in.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Penny says, rushing across the living room toward it.
I turn back to Ben. “So, you think you can get the system to work again?”
He shrugs. “That’s not the real problem here, is it?”
“What is?” I meet his eyes. The little shit is challenging me. I lean forward aggressively. He surprises me by not backing down.
“Does Penny know why you’re hanging around her?”
I arch an eyebrow. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I was there when you shot down the idea of getting close to her for information. Did you change your mind?”
“No. This has nothing to do with them. And what’s it to you? You going to make a pass at her?”
“She reminds me of my little sister. I’m not hitting on her.” Ben rubs his chin. “You say this has nothing to do with their plans. Do those guys know that?”
“I’m not in this fight—one way or the other.”
“Because you’re afraid to be?”
His question flames my temper. “Run downstairs and get her key. We’re done.”
“You are afraid,” Ben says with wide eyes. “I thought you were the badass of the building, but you’re really the pussy. Disappointing. And uplifting to know it’s not me.”
I slam the door, but his words stay with me. I’m not afraid of anyone in the building. I started my business without their help, and I’d be fine without them. But, is that what I want?
For what?
So some woman I’ve never met can have the bragging rights of saying she lives here? Part of me understands Penny’s sister needing to prove she can do something simply because someone told her she couldn’t, but that doesn’t negate what I want.
Penny walks into the living room and plops on my couch. She’s holding a cold cloth to her forehead. My gut twists painfully. What I want no longer feels relevant. I sit next to her. Whether I like it or not, tonight changed t
hings. I have to choose a side.
I don’t enter a fight I don’t intend to win—regardless of what that requires.
In this case, though, even if I win—I lose.
“Where’s Ben?” she asks.
“Getting your key.”
She studies my expression. “Are you upset with me?”
“No.”
She leans her head back on the couch. “I feel like an idiot. Robert must think I’m crazy.”
“He’s a doorman. You’re not the first drunk person he’s come across, trust me. I’m sure they teach you how to handle that in doorman school.”
She raises her head and looks at me. “I would tell you that’s not nice, but my head is spinning, and I might throw up again.”
“Perfect.”
“Keep using that tone, and I won’t even care the next time I miss the toilet.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did, but I cleaned it up. Well, most of it.”
Delightful. Thankfully the building has a twenty-four-hour housecleaning staff. I loosen my tie, stand, then get her a glass of water from the kitchen. This isn’t exactly how I imagined our next night together going. “Drink,” I order after she takes the glass from me.
She takes a few tentative sips.
I remember the smile she gave Ben when he offered to help her. I’ve never aspired to be anyone’s hero. In my experience, most people didn’t deserve one. Penny, though, isn’t like any of the women my father chose. Or rather like the women who chose my dad. She isn’t in the building hoping to score a rich husband. Money is not a priority to her. Rather than the high-maintenance women I’m accustomed to, most things genuinely don’t seem to bother Penny.
So, why did she choose to hide in the doorman’s back room and cry? After all they’ve done to bother her what makes today different?
Is it really due to the key? The bump on the head? The alcohol? Even lumped together it doesn’t seem like enough to break her. “How did your visit with your father go?”
Her shoulders slump at the question. “Good. My father and I are a lot alike. He always makes me smile.”
“But?”
“My mother called while I was there. She doesn’t care for the fact that he and I are a lot alike. She blames him for all the potential she thinks I’m ignoring. It’s hard.”
