fake billionaire, damaged boyfriend 6

"Afraid of heights?" I ponder, seeing her grip the wall a little tight with her hands.

"Not exactly," she whispers. "Small spaces."

"This place isn't that small," I add, motioning to the extended ceilings that come to a dull point. "See, look at all this space."

"It's not your place I'm referring to," she insists. "Your elevator is small."

I look towards the metal doors that open to my penthouse. It only works with my key, but most people ride the elevator in groups of five to six. I know I've felt closed in not being able to crack a window in this place, but that's what my house is for.

I just figured a beautiful night with a beautiful woman needed to happen in a beautiful spot.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong now that we're alone?" I ask, fixing a pot of decaf coffee.

She holds a hand to her temple obviously fighting an alcohol migraine. "I hate gin… I shouldn't have said anything to begin with."

"Not much of a liquor fan?"