"But this is a hotel," said Cress.

"Kind of," said Thorne, shutting off the engine. He jumped out the door and jogged around the car, opening the passenger door for Cress before she could do it herself. She had, of course, been watching him in his haste. "It's an extended stay hotel."

He extended his hand to her like a chauffeur. Cress clasped it and allowed him to help her out of the car. Her hair blew in the light breeze, and between the sports car and the companion she almost forgot the terrible events that had transpired only a few hours before. She almost forgot his terrible driving. She felt like a movie star.

Thorne dropped his keys into the hands of the valet concierge who waited behind a podium. "Alak," he said. "She's all yours. Make sure you don't scratch her this time, though."

Alak choked, but Thorne laughed and patted him on the back. "Just kidding."

"That was mean," said Cress.

Thorne only chuckled.

The entrance lobby was packed, with people milling about the reception desk, waiting in line to eat at the restaurant, and chatting and drinking at the bar. With a hand on the small of her back, Thorne guided her to the elevator. "I've got the penthouse," he said proudly.

The elevator ride was agonizingly long, though it only took less than a minute. Thorne's eyes kept boring into hers, and it was hard not to feel flushed and nervous. Acknowledging that she was entering the place where Carswell Thorne slept and showered meant that she also had to acknowledge the fact that he was occasionally in the nude. If he were still a god, this would be a sacred place.

One short turn in the hallway outside of the elevator and Thorne was already inserting his key into the door. She tried to shrug off how nervous she felt.

Cress was taken aback by the beautiful sight in front of her. There was no ornamentation, no color on the walls, but the illuminated sculptural ceiling caught and captivated her eye—its wavy design seemed to roll like an incoming tide. It matched the theme of the suite, which had to be the seaside, for there was a 180-degree view through floor-to-ceiling windows. It was dark outside, with only a sliver of the moon casting light against the water.

"Not much?!" she breathed. He had played down this apartment way too much.

He shrugged. "I bet it'll be good for parties, but it's not very practical. Look at these stairs, for one."

Thorne passed the living area, which was directly underneath the ceiling sculpture and featured a three-way sectional couch and a massive TV against the wall. He stopped in front of the stairs, which were spiraled and protected by shiny, black plastic. It reminded her of a contraption used at a child's outside playground. "It's a bit too modern, don't you think?"

"That sculpture is incredible. Is your bedroom up there?" asked Cress, pointing up the stairs. She bit the inside of her cheek immediately. She hoped that asking about bedrooms didn't make her sound eager.

"I wouldn't exactly call it a bedroom. It's like a loft, with a full view overlooking the living space below. At least there's a bathroom connected to it. Want to see?"

She gulped again, but Thorne had already disappeared behind the gaudy plastic wall of the staircase. He ducked his head over the railing a second later. "Coming?"

She followed him silently, taking in the entirety of the beautiful apartment as she wound her way up to the loft. She paused at the top. A full-wall mirror was behind a messy, king-sized bed, making Thorne look double as he hastily stripped off the sheets. She blushed at the glimpse of what she suspected were boxers.

"Sorry, wasn't expecting company. I'll get some new ones before we turn in tonight. You think the bed'll be okay for you?"

Cress nearly choked as visibly as Alak had, but did her absolute best to cover it. Was he suggesting—?

"You mean—I'm—what about the pull-out bed?"

He bunched up all the sheets in his arms. "I'll take the pull-out bed in the sectional downstairs. I figured it'd be politer to have you sleep up here, being a lady and all. "

"Oh."

It was hard to believe that someone so handsome could be so kind as well. He hadn't intended at all for them to sleep in the same bed, as she'd originally thought he was suggesting. She had taken him for presumptuous, but he was actually a spectacular gentleman.

She was the one who didn't deserve the title of lady. The thought of sleeping with Carswell Thorne had crossed her mind more than once, though never seriously. It was all part of the Greek god fantasy. She had never been the type to sleep with someone who she'd just met, let alone didn't know extremely well. Of the few people she'd been with, it had taken a long time before she'd felt comfortable enough to even kiss them. She was ashamed at how her thoughts had immediately gone to that scenario with him now, when he was clearly not insinuating anything.

Why did he have to be so hot and nice and respectful all at the same time?

"Wow," she said carefully, so as not to give away even the slightest hint of what she'd been thinking about. "That's so generous of you. But—"

"But you're going to protest and say that you couldn't possibly impose." His voice muffled as he waddled over to a compartment door on the other side of the loft and shoved the whole bundle of laundry into it. When the sheets disappeared, she realized it was a laundry chute. "I insist," he continued. "After an evening like today, you deserve to sleep in comfort." He shut the compartment and leaned against it.

Cress twirled a strand of hair and dropped her eyes. "Thank you," she mumbled. "I doubt I'll sleep well. Not because of the bed but because of that woman. I'm sure I'll have nightmares."

She dared glance up and saw him frown. "That's understandable. I'll be downstairs if you need anything at all. Tea…company…really, anything. We should be there for each other, don't you think? After what we went through today. Frankly, I might have nightmares myself."

"T-thank you. Really."

"I'll call down to the front desk and get you some clean sheets and a spare set for myself. There are already extra towels in the bathroom. The duvet is exceptionally feather-light, by the way."

He began to descend down the stairs.

"Thorne?" she said quickly.

He paused and then snapped his fingers before hurrying back up the one step. "You don't have any pajamas! How rude of me." He strode past her to the closet and turned his back to her. She hadn't even thought about the fact that she had no pajamas.

"Is a Tshirt and gym shorts okay?" he asked.

"Yes...perfect, actually."

Oh stars, he was giving her his clothes.

He re-emerged with the two articles of clothing in hand. He dropped them on the bed. "Well then, goodnight, Cress."

"Thorne?" she said again before he could try to leave. "Would it be possible to have a cup of hot tea now? I'm still feeling very…jittery."

There was no need to tell him that his presence and his penthouse were contributing to the majority of those jitters now.

His face broke out into that handsome, sexy smile, and she melted all over again. "Of course. Come on down."

Once in the kitchen, which was really just an extension of the whole open room, she took a seat at the long table and drummed her fingers along the edge. While Thorne called the main desk downstairs, a part of her wanted to run around and inspect every nook and cranny of his place so that she could determine more about his personality. But judging by the way he had shrugged off her compliments of the penthouse, she figured this wasn't a good representation of who he was.

Her eyes snagged on two frames that did not match the rest of the brown, black, and white motif that decorated the apartment perfectly. She glanced at Thorne, who was busy filling an electric water boiler with water, and decided it couldn't hurt to get a better look. She walked back over to the living area and bent down to study the first wooden frame on the side table.

The picture was of a younger Thorne, perhaps in college, holding a tawny cat in his arms. They were outside, on a lawn of some sorts, and Thorne was wearing shades. It was not a look she'd seen on him yet, and it made her wish he would throw them on right now. The frame said: Boots has Cat-titude.

"Aww," she couldn't help but coo.

Thorne poked his head out from the kitchen. Noticing what she was looking at, he grinned.

"Is Boots your cat?" she asked.

"Yes. Coolest cat in the world."

Cress looked around the room. "Is he here?"

"No. I tried to bring him on some of my travels when I first got the job, but it didn't work. I think he gets confused about where he is. Misses home. He hates flying too."

"Oh no."

"My parents take good care of him while I'm gone, though."

"That's nice of them. Did you grow up in Chicago?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "How did you know I was originally from Chicago? I don't remember mentioning that."

She looked down at her feet. She needed to be more careful to separate what he had told her and what Julian told her, or he'd think she was gossiping about him. "I think I heard it around the office this week. Plus, it's only a few hours from Corporate headquarters."

"Ah. That's right. Yes, I grew up in Chicago."

"I've been there once," she said, hoping he would forget her blunder. "The Navy Pier was fun."

"Ha. Everyone wants to go there now because of the Divergent movie." He reconsidered. "Not that it wasn't famous before. Come on, your tea should be done by now."

"Just a second." She trotted across the room to the other frame that had caught her attention before, this time a silver one. It had lost most of its shine. There was another picture of a college-aged Thorne, but instead of holding on to a cat, he had his arm draped casually over a pretty girl's shoulder. He was laughing deliriously, but the girl was rolling her eyes and trying to shove him away. Her brown ponytail was whipping him in the face.

"That's one of my best friends," said Thorne, making Cress jump. She hadn't heard him come up behind her.

"You look really happy."

"I was."

Cress searched around for any other picture frames, but was met with only white walls. Returning her gaze to Thorne, she asked as nonchalantly as possible, "Did you two date?"

He laughed, not quite as much as in the photo, but enough to make her heart flutter. "Me and Cinder? Date? In her dreams."

In her head, Cress added that yes, he was probably right. Cinder had to be flirting with him in the picture, secretly in love with her best friend. And the way that Thorne said "in her dreams" so casually made it seem like he assumed most girls would dream of dating him. The only encouraging thing about the picture was that Cinder wore no make-up. Maybe the Greek god didn't surround himself solely with supermodel types.

She made a mental note to ask him more about Cinder and Boots later. If the only personal touches he'd added to his temporary residence were photos of a cat and a friend, they had to be extremely important to him.

When she got her tea and settled back into her seat, Thorne remained standing and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't mean to be rude, but tonight has completely worn me out. Would you mind if I hit the hay?"

"Oh!" she said, rising to her feet quickly. "No, of course not."

"Please," he said, holding up his hand, "sit down here as long as you want."

"I…I don't think I could," she admitted. "Not if you're down here sleeping. I can finish my tea upstairs."

"Okay. There's a bathroom upstairs, and also one downstairs, so you'll have total privacy up there. If you happen to wake up before me tomorrow, feel free to come down. I don't have a lot of food, but you can help yourself to coffee or tea."

"Thank you." She gripped her tea mug with both hands and took a sip.

They both stared at each other for a little too long.

"Well," he finally said.

"Well."

The buzzer rang, and Cress nearly spilled tea all over herself. Thorne, looking happy for the interruption, collected the two sets of sheets and tipped the porter. Cress decided that she didn't want to drink her tea upstairs after all and tried to swallow it as quickly as possible, but her tongue was soon scalded. She ended up dumping a part of it in the sink, despite Thorne reiterating that there was no rush and she could stay in the kitchen as long as she wanted.

She grabbed her sheets from him, though, and insisted that she could make the bed on her own.

"Thanks again, Thorne. This is so kind of you."

"It's my pleasure, Cress."

She trudged up the plastic staircase, taking extra care not to trip. She wrestled with the bedsheets, discovering that king-sized sheets were enormous and that she had underestimated how much work it took to make them stay put under the corners of the mattress.

After washing her face in the small but fancy bathroom, she tiptoed to the edge of the ledge in Thorne's clothes. The shorts went down past her knee, despite rolling them up so they wouldn't fall off her. The shirt was baggy, though snugger than the shorts. She thought she looked kind of cute.

The lights from the loft illuminated the living area below, where Thorne had already made the pull-out bed. She jerked back from the ledge as soon as she spotted him lying in bed, afraid that he would see her peeping down. But she had caught a glance of him anyway. He slept on his stomach with his head sideways on the pillow and sprawled out above the covers.

She checked her messages before she went to sleep. There was still nothing from the police, and she was glad that she wasn't alone in a hotel somewhere just waiting to hear from them.

There was also still no message from Julian. Frowning, she sent him a final text before silencing her phone for the night:

I'M AT CARSWELL THORNE'S HOUSE. SLEEPING OVER. *JUST* SLEEPING. WHERE ARE YOU?

Then she deleted the message immediately, so no trace of it was left on her phone.

Once she had turned off the light, Cress snuggled into the comfy bed and tried to calm her over-worked mind. She didn't want to think about the thief, guns, or police, but it was hard not to flash back to the part where the woman had nearly shot Thorne. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and she clutched the covers closer.

She forced herself to think about her present situation instead. There was one small positive to this situation. A big positive, actually. The scare earlier had led to the last thing she'd ever have expected just five days ago: one-on-one time with Carswell Thorne.

Who was a really nice guy. A gentleman. He was no longer just a pretty face. And, to top it off, he had proved to be the perfect hero in scary situations!

And she was sleeping in his bed.

She was sleeping in Carswell Thorne's bed.

Her mind ran away with her then, and she imagined what it would be like to have Carswell Thorne next to her in his bed. Holding her tight, trailing kisses over her body.

As her boyfriend.

Though she knew that she was getting carried away with herself again, it was hard to stop the fantasy. She didn't want to stop it. If anything had changed this week, it was that she absolutely, most certainly, could no longer deny that she had a huge crush on Carswell Thorne.

Cress let out a silent, giddy scream into her pillow.


Note: Hey there! If you're still reading this story, you must have something to say! Please don't forget to leave a review or comment if you would like to keep reading (or don't want to!). I can't tell you how motivating it is to get reviews, favs, or follows, and how unmotivating it is when it seems like no one is reading. Thanks, lovelies. -LLC