1 – 1 of 1 Work in real estate
- real estate ×
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Shane knows it’s technically against the law to throttle a client. Even if they’re really handsome and especially when they might be buying a four-million-dollar house from him. But twenty houses later, this was actually starting to become ridiculous. - Shane is a realtor. Ilya, funnily enough, finds something wrong with every house Shane shows him. It was all Shane’s fault really. He had thought this would be a quick, easy deal. When he first spoke to Mr. Rozanov over the phone, the guy seemed like he needed a house pretty urgently. He’s just relocated to Ottawa and his budget is extortionate. Nice, Shane thinks. Show him a few stylishly-staged properties, he’ll surely throw a ridiculous amount of money at the first decent one and Shane will make an easy five-figure commission and cruise through the rest of the quarter without stressing about hitting his target. Their first meeting is at a stunning four-bedroom, three-bathroom mansion in an affluent south-western suburb of Ottawa. Shane waits in the driveway and almost jumps out of his skin when there’s a sudden deafening roar and a sleek, silver Lamborghini comes swerving around the corner and pulls up in front of the house. The man who climbs out of the low-slung car looks like a fucking model. He’s wearing an expensive looking wool coat, dark sunglasses and has golden brown curls that the breeze is currently ruffling gently like it was paid to do so. Shane is standing next to his sensible Toyota wearing his sensible dark blue suit and feels like a dork. “Mr. Rozanov,” Shane starts, holding out a hand. “Shane Hollander. Thanks for coming by today.” Mr. Rozanov slowly removes his sunglasses and looks Shane up and down in a way that feels like he’s being undressed with his eyes as they shake hands. Shane tries not to flush under the attention and promptly fails. “Nice to meet you, Shane Hollander. Call me Ilya.” - “The property was built in 1985, but the last owners did a full refurbishment so all the fittings are mostly new. Miele kitchen appliances. All the cabinetry is Canadian maple.” Shane watches as Ilya walks around the central island, trailing his fingers over the countertop. He stops at the sink and peers through the kitchen windows at the yard, which is fringed with tall trees. “Hmm. It is a bit dark inside. I need more natural light.” Shane blinks. “Oh. Well, you could landscape the garden, get rid of some trees. It’ll let in more light.” Ilya doesn’t seem convinced. “Seems like a lot of work. Maybe this one is not the right fit.” “Would you like to see the upstairs, at least?” Ilya shrugs a shoulder casually, which Shane takes to mean yes. He leads him up the stairs and feels Ilya’s eyes on his back the whole time. In the primary bathroom, Ilya gestures to the singular sink. “No, I need two sinks.” “You want his-and-her sinks?” Shane asks. He smartly does not mention the fact that Ilya had clearly told him he would be living alone, and absolutely has no need for two sinks. “Yes. Two sinks.” “Okay,” Shane says. He pulls out his phone. “Why don’t you tell me your wishlist now, so I can get it right for the next properties I show you?” Natural light, Shane types into his Notes app as Ilya starts listing them off, rapid fire. His- and-her sinks. Ensuite bathroom. Floor to ceiling windows. Enough garage space for two cars. “Why is called his-and-her sinks?” Ilya asks later when they are back downstairs. “It is sexist, no? Maybe it is hers-and-hers. Or his-and-his.” He shoots Shane a wink before heading out the front door. Well, then. - The next property Shane shows Ilya is a modern three-bedroom, high rise condo which comes with two parking spaces. He didn’t specifically say he wanted a house, after all, just that he needs somewhere to live. The condo has floor to ceiling windows and a large balcony, there are his-and-her – sorry, two sinks - in the primary ensuite (Shane double checked), and is flooded with so much natural light you practically need sunglasses. Ilya meets him in the fancy lobby, and doesn’t really say anything as they ride up to the 18th floor. He looks like an off-duty model, in his dark leather jacket with his curls combed back. Shane tries not to stare and instead scrolls through his email notifications on the ride up. Just before the doors open, Shane glances up and sees that Ilya had been looking at him, on the mirrored doors of the elevator. They catch each other’s eye in the reflection and Shane’s stomach does something funny. Once they get into the unit, he points out the chef ’s kitchen, the steel appliances gleaming under all that natural light. He tells Ilya about the state of the art gym and heated indoor lap pool that comes as part of the amenities. Pointedly shows him the ensuite with its two sinks and rain shower. Ilya has a small smile on his face through the whole pitch, and looks endeared when Shane starts waxing lyrical about the Bardiglio marble as though he laid the fucking tile work himself.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,134
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77674911