I manage to pull my head out of the gutter long enough to give Ruby a rundown on the entry system. "Any deliveries are intercepted by front desk security."
"Don't you have to go down and get it?"
"Generally, whoever is working the security desk will bring deliveries to the door unless otherwise requested."
"That's so awesome. I used to have to wait for the stupid elevator or run down four flights of stairs if it was taking too long, or out of order, which was often."
"I don't think you'll find that to be an issue here. Since we're on the penthouse level we have a dedicated elevator, so waiting is rare."
"You could totally be a hermit living here, couldn't you?" she asks.
"If I didn't like people, I suppose I could."
Ruby cocks her head to the side, and her smile holds a hint of devious curiosity. "Do you like people?"
"It depends on the people."
"But you like me." She makes a face, as if she's embarrassed by her own statement.
"What I know of you so far, yes." I smile at the flush that creeps into her cheeks. "While I'm gone I'll give you access to services I use so you'll be able to get what you need."
Her tone hardens a little, as if she's offended by the courtesy. "You don't have to do that."
"You're staying here, there will be things you require, both for yourself and Francesca and Tiny. I won't have you spending your own money taking care of my animals."
Her gaze drops to her feet. "I guess that makes sense when you put it that way."
I have to wonder a little about her financial situation. She comes from money; however, that reveal at the restaurant is another reason I caved and offered her a place to stay. At least my family was supportive of my decision to pursue rugby as a career. It doesn't seem as though she has even that.
"I have groceries delivered every Friday, although the order is tailored to my taste. I was going to cancel it, but since you're here . . ." I trail off. "I'll show you how to make changes after dinner."
"Sure. Okay." Ruby wears an unreadable expression. I'm unsure what to make of it, and I don't get to ask because there's a knock at the door.
Which reminds me that Francesca needs to go back in her cage. "Would you be able to put her in my room while I get this?"
"Of course." Ruby flits over to the couch, scoops up Francesca, and carries her down the hall.
I wait until she slips into my bedroom before I open the door, accept the takeout, provide a generous tip, and lock up. If I'm being honest, I'm a little nervous about leaving Francesca. Especially since ferrets are illegal in New York, which is part of the reason I ended up with her in the first place. Someone brought her to one of my father's hotels without fully understanding the implications. Or maybe they had, since they'd smuggled her in. She was improperly caged, so she got loose, chewed through wiring, caused all kinds of damage, and disappeared into a vent. Her owners just left her. She's lucky she's alive.
My father's plan was to give her to Animal Control, which probably would have terminated her. I told him I'd take care of it. And I did. Just not the way he expected me to.
Within twenty-four hours I'd had a cage delivered to the condo and I'd set up a habitat for her. The few people who have access to my condo are aware of the delicate situation and are compensated for their silence. It sounds far more mafia than it is.
When I took her in as a refugee I hadn't expected to be traveling. I've been fighting my dad on this trip for weeks now, but there's no getting out of it. I know how he works. If I have a hope in hell of getting what I want in the future, I have to give him what he wants now, which is weeks of travel and research so I can learn the company ropes and be another cog in his machine.
I unpack all the containers. It's the best Italian takeout in this city as far as I'm concerned. Their pizza is also amazing, but I thought it was safe to order something I knew Ruby would like, hence the pasta primavera.
I pull a bottle of white from my wine fridge and a bottle of red as well, in case she prefers one over the other. She mentioned liking martinis, but I'm not adept at making those, so wine will have to do. I'm also not sure how fully she's recovered from her illness. I know it took me more than a week to recover.
I debate whether I want to set the table, or the island. The table is a bit too formal, I think. Casual is better. I pour sparkling water and set places for both of us. Then I wait for her to return. For some reason I'm nervous. As if this were a date, not two people reviewing pet care instructions.