Independence Library Apartments Novels & Stories

If you don't make up your mind now, it's going to be gone in the next few hours. The property agent continued explaining details about the unit as Miranda looked around. The place wasn't big since it was just a two-bedroom apartment. The building was also at least a decade old. While it wasn't exactly a run-down apartment, it was quite a traditional one. However, there were many benefits to staying in this apartment unit. Aside from being very close to Bedford College, there was also a library right next to it. It was also close to public transport and, most importantly, had adequate natural lighting and a favorable environment all around.

I needed space where his face wasn't plastered on every monitor. I retreated to my new apartment, a sleek, well furnished apartment on the twenty second floor that I had just rented. It was modern and minimalist, filled with polished marble and floor to ceiling glass that looked out over a city that didn't know my secrets. Most importantly, I lived there alone. It was a space designed for a woman who was self sufficient, a place with no ghosts and no memories of shared morning coffees or late night promises.

They're both the best. Dad pulls the car up outside the apartments where Zoe and I live. It's not a high rise, we both wanted something that was more cute and cosy looking and found this area. The block is only four flights high with just twenty individual apartments in it. The building is made of brick and glass and each apartment has its own separate balcony, we all have trellis dividers and on ours we have an array of plants climbing up it with some small planters hanging off. I've adorned ours with fairy lights, a lot of fairy lights. And the thought of sitting on it with a glass of wine before crashing out early is appealing. Zoe no doubt will fire a million questions at me and wonder w

The new apartment was exactly what I had asked for: sleek, minimalist, twenty-second floor of a discreet Midtown tower with large extensive windows that framed the glittering city like a painting I could close the curtains on. Grey marble counters, soft gray walls, a single abstract painting above the fireplace that reminded me of chaos at dusk. No music playing in the background. No Nathan’s cologne lingering in the closets nor Andrew’s quiet presence in the next room, offering protection wrapped in something that was beginning to feel dangerously close to real. I had chosen independence. Claus’s security detail had simply followed. A black SUV still waited two blocks away at all times. One

I had no idea how fast Job had been driving or exactly how far it was from Shepherdstown to DC, but we had reached our destination. He pulled into a spot in front of a rundown, brick office building. It wasn’t huge, but then this was the space most of the Independents worked out of, when they worked together, which just meant they truly answered to no one except Job, the leader they had appointed, and had no government funding. The second part showed.

Adrian's apartment? *****

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." "Don't come to the tower," I said immediately. "Not until I know the full extent of the information compromised. Meet me at," I thought quickly, running through locations, eliminating anything connected to any pattern Damien's monitoring might have mapped. "The old municipal library on Stead Street. Reading room on the third floor. Nobody uses it on weekday mornings." "I know it," he said. Of course he did. I had known he would. The library on Stead Street was three blocks from the first apartment Adrian and I had rented together, the one we lived in before Laurent Group became what it became today, before success rebuilt everything around us into what neit

"What about the future?" "I want you to move in with me." The words hung in the air. Imogen stared at him. "What?" "My apartment is bigger than yours. It has three bedrooms. One for us, one for a home office, one for whenever Colt wants to stay over. The building has a doorman and a gym and a rooftop pool. And it's only ten minutes from the library." "Alexander—"

Started pulling clothes out of my closet. "But at least I'll be free." She left an hour later, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows. I sat on my bed, surrounded by half-packed boxes, and let out a long, shaky breath. Three days. I pulled out my phone and opened the rental listings. The first apartment was in Bushwick. Six hundred square feet, fourth-floor walkup, bathroom shared with three other units. Two thousand dollars a month. I made forty-two thousand a year. Before taxes.