The Arrogant Architect by LK Collins

Author:LK Collins [Collins, LK]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-08-24T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 16

“I’m surprised you don’t have any staff,” I tell him as we raid his refrigerator.

“See? There you go, letting Google make your mind up about me.”

“That’s not true.” I dig through the bag of shooters he bought me that is on his kitchen island and he says, “Yes, it is. Think about the man that you now know, would I have staff?”

“I guess not,” I say, opening a tiny bottle of watermelon vodka.

“You thought that because of the way the Internet portrayed me. That was our problem from the beginning– you wouldn’t even give me a chance.”

I take a swig and wish he would get drunk with me. But kinda like how responsible he is at the same time. “No, you were a cocky asshole.”

“I was not, I was caught off guard when you came flying out of your house with that mane of long blonde hair, perky nipples getting me hard, and then your mouth. I wanted to fuck it before you even opened it.”

“I’m not sure that’s even sweet, but thank you.”

“It’s a compliment; you’re gorgeous.”

“And so are you and arrogant and fucking frustrating.”

“Am I now?” he asks kissing the side of my arm.

“Yes, you are.”

“I like to get a rise out of you, what can I say?”

“Nothing, that’s the problem…you say too much,” I tease him and hop off the stool, grabbing more olives from the fridge.

But before I can open the jar, he’s dragging me away and down a set of spiral stairs. “Where are we going?” I ask.

“I totally forgot to bring you down here earlier.”

Once we reach the bottom, directly in front of us is a huge vault door that is propped open, and as we walk inside the room, it is filled from floor to ceiling with old classic safe deposit boxes.

“Holy shit! Are they all empty?”

“The ones without the locks in the doors are.” My eyes scan the wall of boxes. There are so many that are still locked, probably more than half.

“What’s in them?” I ask him.

“You got me.”

“Can you open them?”

“I can open it by drilling out the lock.”

“Why haven’t you?” I shriek, so excited to see something like this.

“I have some. But I don’t do it often. Thinking of them being empty is like that feeling you get on Christmas morning after you open all your presents…then what? At least this way, there is always one waiting for me.”

“When you open one, you’ve gotta let me be here.”

“Let’s do it now,” he says, and I slam the rest of the shooter, so excited for what we are about to do.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely!” he exclaims and kisses me before jogging off.

“Where are you going?” I yell after him.

“To get my drill. Pick the one you want to open.”

I turn back towards the wall, completely flabbergasted at this piece of American history. These boxes belonged to people; they contain their most prized possessions.

Trying to decide on one is so hard. He comes back in with a drill, safety glasses, and a pry bar.

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