Drew Riley: Night Doorman of The Eastmoor on Park I'm stuck in an uptown lobby while my dreams of making it as a model in New York hang by a single thread. Meanwhile, Olivier Arnaud lives his best life as a useless socialite, flaunting his wealth, his looks, and his privilege. His gaze taunts, and his nightly, condescending smirks burrow deep beneath my skin where I simmer with bitterness and hate. The day he asks me to deliver his mail directly to his twelfth-floor penthouse, he makes it personal, and the thread snaps-violently. With my hand around his neck, I feel alive for the first time in months. Though my frustration may have found the outlet it craves, my body's response caused everything I thought I knew about myself to shift. Faced with vastly different but equally uncertain futures, our baser needs align, turning our increasingly heated encounters into a reckoning-both sexual and shockingly emotional. I know I have to stop. The last thing I can afford to lose in this heartless town is one more piece of myself to a man who already has everything.
