Dawn of Eve, MJ Howson [lightweight ebook reader TXT] 📗

raincoat with black piping draped over her shoulders. Gwen couldn’t help but think the colors, or rather lack of color, matched Dawn’s hair and face.

“Thank you, Gwen,” Dawn said. She stopped and tapped Gwen’s engagement ring. “You have a lovely weekend.”

“You too,” Gwen replied.

“I’m seeing my Jacob tonight! I hope he’s happy that the ultrasound went well.” Dawn ran her hand across her stomach. “Evelyn will be kicking any day now.”

Dawn waved her fingers, continued down the hallway, and disappeared around the corner.

Jack turned to Gwen and said, “She’s not fooling anyone with that dye job.”

“Ya think?”

“Is Jacob the guy who knocked her up?”

Gwen gently smacked Jack on his shoulder. She rolled her eyes and said, “Be nice, Jack.”

Jack looked down the empty hallway in the direction Dawn had gone. He sighed and asked, “What kind of guy dates the heir to a fashion empire?”

Three

The Spire

The sixty-story Spire, home to many of New York City’s elite, offered stunning views from its location along the High Line on the corner of W 26th Street and 10th Avenue. The apartments started at 1,000 square feet and grew larger from there. The structure’s design proved highly controversial upon its debut a year ago. The founder of Ross Architectural Designs, Justin Ross, loved to fuse styles. Justin blended the Catalan Modernism of Antoni Gaudi with the steel and glass designs of the nearby Hudson Yards towers. The rust-colored concrete supports flared from the bottom third of the building and then narrowed as they twisted their way toward the top. The apex itself served as a beacon, with its blood-red LED lighting marking the building’s location. The steel components were painted off-white, and the flush windows were tinted in a deep gray hue. Critics were divided on the end result, with some praising it as a future icon and others calling it an eyesore on the city. One particularly scathing review dubbed it “the exposed human skeleton of Manhattan.”

Being one of the first to move into the building, Dawn had secured one of the two penthouse units. Each apartment took up three stories, with one unit facing southeast and the other northwest. Dawn selected the northwest facing apartment for its stunning views of the Hudson River as well as the late afternoon sunsets, especially from the main terrace.

The ultra-modern interior design belied the relatively avant-garde exterior. The entire building was networked. Residents could use voice commands to control their smart home features and interface with the concierge, make appointments at the spa, or reservations at one of the four restaurants.

Dawn’s 5,000 square-foot unit contained three bedrooms and three bathrooms along with a powder room. A private elevator serviced each of the three levels, along with a grand central spiral staircase just off the main entrance. The first floor was an open area with a kitchen, dining, and living room. There was also a den, powder room, and a curved terrace at the most western corner. Dawn had worked closely with the interior designer to develop a modern yet warm and inviting space. Polished cream porcelain tile intersected with deep walnut hardwood flooring to create a series of separate living spaces for her furnishings. Black, white, cream, and wood tones were the only color palate. All suggestions of color from her designer had been rejected.

Dawn, her cream kaftan rippling in the chilly wind, stood on her terrace and admired the view of the Hudson River. The view west looked out across the Hoboken skyline. One World Trade Center, just over three miles south, shone brightly in the distance.

At just after 11:30 p.m., Dawn knew Jacob would arrive soon. She went back inside and headed to the kitchen to select a bottle of merlot from her wine cooler.

“Evelyn, play smooth jazz music,” Dawn said. She waited patiently for the automated smart home system to respond. The technician who’d configured the system told Dawn she could pick any name to use as a trigger. She went with her mother’s name.

“Playing smooth jazz music.” The calming female voice came from the dozens of overhead speakers embedded in the ceiling. The system soon began to play David Benoit’s Cast Your Fate to the Wind.

As Dawn retrieved a bottle of wine, the music suddenly faded out and paused.

“Jacob Jilani arriving,” the smart home system announced.

Dawn smiled at the notification that Jacob was on his way. The penthouse units had dedicated access buttons within the elevators. They were automated to notify owners when someone was on their way up. Dawn had informed the front desk that she did not need to approve Jacob to enter the building. Dawn quickly made her way to the front door.

A brightly lit mirrored lobby divided the front entrance from the elevator. Dawn stepped into the hall and stopped to inspect her hair. She frowned as she noticed a hint of her original hair color starting to emerge. Her frown disappeared once the stainless steel elevator doors opened.

Jacob smiled as he exited the elevator, stopping briefly to inspect the scar running across the left side of his face. The old wound ran from his chin through his lips to just below his left eye. The deep cut couldn’t detract from his highly chiseled cheekbones and jawline. The six-foot-tall twenty-nine-year-old Italian-American held his arms open wide as he approached Dawn. She met him at the center of the lobby and fell into his embrace, flinging her arms around his broad shoulders. Jacob allowed his hands to slide down Dawn’s sides and settle on her waist, resting his chin on her head.

“Hey gorgeous,” Jacob said. “How’s it going?

“Better now.”

Dawn wrapped her hand around Jacob’s neck and pulled him closer, pausing to stare into his deep brown eyes. They kissed briefly, the deep scar cutting through Jacob’s lips, slightly pinching Dawn’s. Jacob kept his arm around her as they entered the apartment.

Jacob closed the door behind them, unzipped his olive green Italian wool bomber jacket, and tossed it across the back of one of the living