OUR LIPS AREN'T SEALED (#2 STEAMY CEO ROMANCE)

☼ nine ☼

I couldn't do this.

My hunch was right, and I should have listened.

Because this location? It wasn't a public place.

My Uber driver pulled up at the curb of a superb, modernized building that reeked of riches and penthouses. Lofty windows, impeccable painting, and an elaborate, arched entrance complete with a gate and a key-code and a security-supervised lobby.

This was someone's home. And the more I stared at it, the more I gulped as I stood before it, the more I knew whose home, exactly.

Axel's place.

This was where he stayed when he was in L.A.

Where he worked, where he slept, ate, drank, entertained his conquests—

The security guard near the gate cleared his throat. "Miss? Can I help you?" He eyed me with suspicion, as if I were completely out of place. Or about to break in and rob the wealthiest inhabitant.

I hadn't donned my best pant suit, but it was a pant suit, pressed and professional. I'd tied my hair back, worn a thin but respectable layer of makeup, high heels, and a knock-off purse that looked luxurious. It wasn't my everyday outfit, but since I'd expected to swing by the office after coffee with Chi, I'd dressed up for work.

Was that not enough for this guy?

"I'm meeting Axel Levine." I scrunched my eyebrows as I walked over to the guard. The sidewalk wasn't busy around here; the building was in a side-street off of one of Beverly Hills' main boulevards, but it had little foot traffic as there were no fancy stores or cafés to go to.

The guard squinted at me, then withdrew a phone from his suit pocket, dialing a number. He brought the device to his ear, waited, waited...

"Mr. Levine," he said, perking up as he spoke. "A visitor, for you?" He listened to the response, then gaped at me. "Name?"

I blinked at him, surprised that Axel hadn't given any notice that I was showing up. Was it a last-minute decision to summon me? Was this a secret visit that no one knew about?

"Vivienne Clarke," I said, peering left and right, worried I'd be overheard, caught. In trouble.

Everything about this felt forbidden, like I wasn't supposed to be here. Like I'd gotten his instructions messed up, confused the address for somewhere else.

Surely he didn't want me to meet him here, at his penthouse? Why weren't we meeting at the venue for the engagement party? Unless he was taking me there himself, and I'd be waiting for him down here while he called a car service, and—

"Miss Clarke?" The guard was waving at me, getting my attention. Had I zoned out? "If you'll please follow me."

He keyed in a code on the keypad, which buzzed the iron gate-door open. We passed through a beautiful courtyard of high hedges and fountains and stone benches, and he let me through the enormous glass door into the lobby.

It was something out of a movie, or a reality TV show about rich people selling things to other rich people. Lofty ceilings, chandeliers sprinkling sparkles of light over polished marble floors, a sleek check-in and check-out desk equipped with cameras and computers. At the end of it all was a silver elevator before which perched another security guard.

"She's going to the Levine floor," said the first guard, as he took me to the elevator.

The second guard nodded and called the elevator for us. I stood beside him waiting, questions pouring into my mind, but I kept my mouth shut.