Love All The Way

12| Sneaky confession

The first few clients start to arrive, and I put on a show, offering them champagne and making small talk about the property. I'm lucky enough to have a young, friendly couple who are wowed by the property and a kind, old man with a friendly demeanor. There's nothing worse than when a client walks in and acts like you're beneath them.

When a few more guests arrive, I give them a mini-tour and go through my usual spiel, before letting them explore alone. The first thing most of them do is head out onto the balcony, taking in the sight of Manhattan. I don't blame, them either. If I'm ever lucky enough – and rich enough – to afford this kind of view, I'd be out there all the time.

My chest suddenly tightens. I've been trying not to think about the fact that I can barely afford my apartment, but with rent coming up and this promotion on the line, it's weighing on my mind more than ever. If things don't work out, I'll have to move out and find somewhere else, which is hard to do on such short notice, especially with a cat. It means I've got to make this work, somehow. I've got to sell this property and claw my way to seven, or else everything I've done will mean nothing.

I've got to win.

I'm busy shmoozing when a gentleman walks over, tall, with sandy blond hair, pale blue eyes, and a Hollywood smile. He's holding the glass of champagne I'd given him earlier, but he's hardly taken a sip.

"How many apartments did you say were on this floor?" he asks.

"Two," I say. "The walls are soundproof, of course, so you'd have the utmost privacy."

"Thanks." He gives me this bashful smile that makes him look adorable. "I'm Wyatt, by the way. I didn't catch your name."

"Kennedy," I say, holding out my hand. "Kennedy James."

He smiles again. "Nice to meet you, Kennedy James."

"Likewise. Let me know if you have any other questions, and don't forget to check out the view."

He nods and heads straight for the balcony to join some of the others. Even though it'll do no good to check out the competition, I stand in the doorway of my apartment and hover. I've got a direct view straight into Milo's apartment, where he's standing near the patio doors, looking straight at me. We both smile at the fact we're just as sneaky as each other and then head back to our respective clients.

Wyatt comes back at one point and asks a few questions about the property. I'm always slightly nervous that I'll forget something, despite pouring over the details of this property for weeks, but I don't. I answer every question with ease, impressing him.

We make small talk for a little while longer. I learn he's CEO of some family firm, which doesn't surprise me. A lot of the buyers here are only able to afford this kind of place because of nepotism. I don't blame them, either. If I had rich parents who could buy me a house, I wouldn't say no.

"I know what you're thinking," he says.

"What am I thinking?"

"I'm your typical trust fund brat."

I'm the picture of innocence as I say, "The thought never crossed my mind."

He laughs. "Sure it didn't. I'm a pro at reading people's faces, and you don't have a particularly good poker face. It's all about the eyebrows."

"The eyebrows?"

"Sure." He takes a step closer. "People are good at keeping their expression neutral, except for the eyebrows." He lifts his hand, careful not to touch me, and hovers it over my eyebrow. "As soon as I mentioned my family's firm, this part of your eyebrow twitched slightly."