Page 45 of Gilded Princess

He sets his cup down on the counter behind him, the fabric of his charcoal-gray shirt stretching tight across his chest. His shirt sleeves are rolled twice—just enough to glimpse the tattoos inked to his wrists.

Without a word, he pours the tea over ice and adds a dash of sweetener.

Exactly how I like my tea.

A shiver of something foreign rolls through me.

He adds a paper straw and slides the glass across the counter before leaning back against the sink and taking another sip.

The glass is cool against my fingers, and I take a drink to quench my thirst.

Mango Ceylon. One of my favorites.

“While you’re here, I want you to treat my home as if it were yours—”

“Your home?” I can feel my eyes widen, and I turn my head from side to side, taking everything in with fresh eyes.

It’s an open floor plan, not even big archways to separate the rooms like you find in so many penthouses. The kitchen bleeds into a dining room. A wrought-iron chandelier with dimly lit Edison bulbs hangs above a blonde, wooden eight-chair dining room table. It gives the room subtle warmth.

The table is bare except for a laptop at one end. I imagine Matteo sitting there, sipping espresso with the rising sun and working on . . . whatever it is he does.

The dining room transitions into a living room that sort of wraps around the outer perimeter in a U shape. One entire wall is floor-to-ceiling windows, as is the fashion for so many apartments like these.

I always thought the word apartment felt too small, too plain for homes like these. Ones where the couch costs more than a car.

A staircase to the second floor is on the far side of the apartment, and another hallway goes beyond that. I haven’t really gotten the full tour, but I doubt I’ll be staying much longer, so my curiosity will just have to chill out.

“Did you think I’d bring you to a stranger’s home?” A frown creases his face, somehow just enhancing his good looks. “Is your head alright? I already mentioned that I brought you to my house earlier.”

That five o’clock shadow really works on him, and I lose a few seconds just admiring his strong jaw and powerful aura. I refocus on him. “What? No. I guess I thought this was your parents’ house or something . . .”

“Like I said, I wouldn’t bring you to a stranger’s home.”

The ice in his voice is noticeable, and I wrack my brain, trying to remember if he ever mentioned his parents when we were dating. We were young and stupid, and we were both more interested in other things than deep dives into our parental issues.

“Okay. So this is your house. That you live in by yourself? I thought I counted like ten rooms upstairs.”

He shrugs. “I have a few trusted . . . roommates, most of whom don’t primarily live here.”

What a cryptic response.

“So in light of what went down yesterday—what’s been going on surrounding your cousin—you have two options. Either you can have twenty-four seven protection by no less than four bodyguards.”

“Or?” I raise a brow when he pauses. I’ve never known him as dramatic, so there must be another reason.

“Or you stay here. With me.” He finishes his espresso and places the cup in the sink before meeting my gaze once more.

I know he alluded to as much earlier, but I guess I didn’t really think much about it. I was distracted by physical pain and anxious thoughts about my girls.

“What? Why? Lainey’s with Wolf now, right? So she’s okay.”

“You’re right, she’s with Wolf, and they’re protecting her. But I spoke with him earlier, and Lainey might still be in danger. And since the two of you look so similar, it’s in your best interest to lie low until everything’s passed.”

My brows furrow as fear shoots through me, swift and sharp. I’m not the only one who could pass for Lainey. “Where’s my sister?”

“She’s safe, but you can call her and talk to her for yourself. I have a couple guys watching her from afar.”

I inhale a quick breath. “I thought you said she was safe?”

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