Read Online Island Road: The Billionaire Brothers by Lily Everett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lily Everett
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stairs … I think I’ll just enjoy the view from here, thanks. You two go on ahead.”
Greta’s heart leapt into her throat as she contemplated the stairs. She completely understood Cleo’s change of heart. They were so high already, the vast blackness of the night sky all around them and the city spread hundreds of feet below. Fear stalked her, the old familiar refrain of caution like her mother’s voice in her head, but Greta stuffed it down. “I’m not going to make it in these heels.”
“So take them off.” Miles shrugged, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll happily go up behind you and be ready to catch you if you stumble.”
Greta snorted, some of the fear dissipating in the face of his flirtation. “My hero, willing to climb a ladder behind me while I’m wearing a short, tight dress.”
Miles leaned in to murmur, “What if I promise I won’t look?”
The mixed signals were giving Greta emotional whiplash. She arched her brow in a clear challenge. “Look all you want, Miles. I’m not shy.”
It wasn’t completely true—more than a decade of hiding her body, her scar, from the world had left Greta with a few hang-ups. But she wanted Miles Harrington. And maybe if she showed him clearly enough, he’d get over whatever was holding him back.
Right then and there, Greta decided she wasn’t spending the night in any guest room. She’d either sleep in Miles’s bed … or she’d find her own way back home to Sanctuary Island tonight.
“Are you ready?” he asked, gesturing at the steep stairs.
Slipping out of her heels, Greta filled her lungs with a deep, cleansing breath, and set her foot on the bottom step. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Chapter 8
“Surprise,” Miles said as they climbed. “These stairs lead to the private deck, at the base of the building’s mooring mast. The highest point in New York not open to the general public, with three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views of the entire city on the other side of that door.”
Ducking under the network of pipes at the top of the stairs, he watched Greta hesitate for a second at the exit to the outside.
Concerned, he said, “If you’re nervous, we don’t have to go out. We can head back down to the observation gallery, or even to the regular deck down on eighty-six with the rest of the tourists.”
“I am nervous,” she muttered. “We must be so high up now! But I made it this far. I have to see what’s out there.”
Miles took her hand, unsurprised to find her fingers chilled with fear. Bringing them to his mouth, he blew warmth over them. “You have nothing to prove to anyone, Greta. Whatever you want, it’s all good.”
But she shook her head, her fingers curling around his as she stared up at him earnestly. “Thank you. But you’re wrong. I do have something to prove. To myself, more than anyone.”
And with that, she stepped away from him and out onto the narrow balcony. Pride, respect, admiration for the sheer gutsiness of her, filled Miles’s chest. Not wanting to miss a moment of her triumph over herself, he followed her.
Wind whipped across his face, and even this high in the clouds, it still carried the city scents of exhaust fumes and dirty-water hot dog carts. The secret deck up here was insanely narrow, no more than two feet of space between the exterior of the tower and the ludicrously short knee-high railing.
“Ever been up here before?” Greta called into the breeze as she inched her barefoot way around the ledge, back hugging the tower.
Miles shook his head. “I can’t believe they let anyone up here. I guess this explains the waivers I had Cleo forge my signature on so we could get this confirmed.”
Somehow, that loosened the taut line of Greta’s creamy shoulders, bared by the spaghetti straps of her sparkly cocktail dress. “So I’m not the only one who thinks this is a little crazy? We could topple over the side here any second. If the wind were strong
Greta’s heart leapt into her throat as she contemplated the stairs. She completely understood Cleo’s change of heart. They were so high already, the vast blackness of the night sky all around them and the city spread hundreds of feet below. Fear stalked her, the old familiar refrain of caution like her mother’s voice in her head, but Greta stuffed it down. “I’m not going to make it in these heels.”
“So take them off.” Miles shrugged, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll happily go up behind you and be ready to catch you if you stumble.”
Greta snorted, some of the fear dissipating in the face of his flirtation. “My hero, willing to climb a ladder behind me while I’m wearing a short, tight dress.”
Miles leaned in to murmur, “What if I promise I won’t look?”
The mixed signals were giving Greta emotional whiplash. She arched her brow in a clear challenge. “Look all you want, Miles. I’m not shy.”
It wasn’t completely true—more than a decade of hiding her body, her scar, from the world had left Greta with a few hang-ups. But she wanted Miles Harrington. And maybe if she showed him clearly enough, he’d get over whatever was holding him back.
Right then and there, Greta decided she wasn’t spending the night in any guest room. She’d either sleep in Miles’s bed … or she’d find her own way back home to Sanctuary Island tonight.
“Are you ready?” he asked, gesturing at the steep stairs.
Slipping out of her heels, Greta filled her lungs with a deep, cleansing breath, and set her foot on the bottom step. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Chapter 8
“Surprise,” Miles said as they climbed. “These stairs lead to the private deck, at the base of the building’s mooring mast. The highest point in New York not open to the general public, with three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views of the entire city on the other side of that door.”
Ducking under the network of pipes at the top of the stairs, he watched Greta hesitate for a second at the exit to the outside.
Concerned, he said, “If you’re nervous, we don’t have to go out. We can head back down to the observation gallery, or even to the regular deck down on eighty-six with the rest of the tourists.”
“I am nervous,” she muttered. “We must be so high up now! But I made it this far. I have to see what’s out there.”
Miles took her hand, unsurprised to find her fingers chilled with fear. Bringing them to his mouth, he blew warmth over them. “You have nothing to prove to anyone, Greta. Whatever you want, it’s all good.”
But she shook her head, her fingers curling around his as she stared up at him earnestly. “Thank you. But you’re wrong. I do have something to prove. To myself, more than anyone.”
And with that, she stepped away from him and out onto the narrow balcony. Pride, respect, admiration for the sheer gutsiness of her, filled Miles’s chest. Not wanting to miss a moment of her triumph over herself, he followed her.
Wind whipped across his face, and even this high in the clouds, it still carried the city scents of exhaust fumes and dirty-water hot dog carts. The secret deck up here was insanely narrow, no more than two feet of space between the exterior of the tower and the ludicrously short knee-high railing.
“Ever been up here before?” Greta called into the breeze as she inched her barefoot way around the ledge, back hugging the tower.
Miles shook his head. “I can’t believe they let anyone up here. I guess this explains the waivers I had Cleo forge my signature on so we could get this confirmed.”
Somehow, that loosened the taut line of Greta’s creamy shoulders, bared by the spaghetti straps of her sparkly cocktail dress. “So I’m not the only one who thinks this is a little crazy? We could topple over the side here any second. If the wind were strong
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