How do I get myself into these types of situations?
My eyes pierce that of Bronson's and when his apparent smirk appears, I want to march over and stomp on his pride with my chucks.
He wants me to move in with him. As in move inside this huge penthouse that looks as though it could go on forever. He wants me to wake up on a thousand thread count sheets and live comfortably in downtown Manhattan on the top floor of the most expensive, luxurious penthouse?
I don't think so.
“You have got to be kidding me." I state flatly wondering if this man has hit his head in the last twenty-four hours.
“I'm not."
“I'm not moving in with you. I don't even know you."
“And what are your other options?"
“Excuse me?" I stand and walk over to the fireplace, placing my drink down on the mantel. Facing h
