Page 11 of Hidden Empire

Matteo snorts, tossing the TV remote on my bed. “Rules? Like what?”

“I don’t know,” I say warily. “Like house rules. Things I’m not supposed to do?”

He considers this for a second. “I mean, don’t leave without telling someone, and don’t light the place on fire,” he says with a shrug. More seriously, he adds, “And no boys unless you want them strung up over the front lawn.”

Jesus. I was informed that they’re criminals, but the way he openly says things like that is a little jarring. Face heating, I shake my head. “There are no boys to worry about, trust me.”

“Well, then you’re basically set,” he replies happily.

I chew on my bottom lip, thinking that can’t possibly be it. Matteo is a funny, lighthearted guy, from what I can tell. I have doubts that rules feel serious to him, but they’re very serious to me. I can’t mess up, not when I’ve just been handed everything I have ever dreamed about.

“You’re sure? There’s nothing else?”

He pauses, trying to think harder. “What kind of rules are you thinking about? How strict was your house?”

I swallow, letting out a breath. There’s no way I’m getting into all of that. “Like, do you have bedtimes? Places in the house you can’t go after certain times? Limits on things?”

“Limits on things?” His voice becomes darker with this question.

I try testing out the waters, throwing out vague questions relating to the less intense rules I’m accustomed to. “Like, if I take a shower tonight, how long can I use it for? Five minutes? Ten? Or what if I want a snack? Is there food that’s off-limits? Or?—”

“Stop,” he interrupts, eyes pooling with danger. “Jade, if I ever hear that you rush yourself out of the shower in less than five minutes because you think you have to, I’ll be seriously fucking pissed. Eat whatever you want, shower as long as you want, and no, you don’t have a fucking bedtime. You don’t have to go to bed at all if you aren’t tired.”

I try not to shrink in on myself. I know he’s not angry with me for asking, and still, my brain retreats into defensive mode. “O-okay, um, thank you.”

He composes himself and breathes. “Shit, sorry, that was probably too much. Just don’t do any of that bullshit here, Jade. Take an hour long shower if you want, eat everything, make a mess, watch TV all night, it really doesn’t matter. This is your home.”

I’m holding back from getting choked up when he snaps his fingers. “Actually, let me get you something to sleep in. You shower, wear my sweats, and we’ll figure out everything else tomorrow, alright?”

His clothes will definitely be too big for me, but that’s hardly a problem. I’d rather be swimming in my brother’s clothes than sleeping uncomfortably in my outfit from today. Jeans and a stale T-shirt are hardly comfortable sleepwear.

“That’d be really nice, thank you,” I tell him, grateful for the offer.

“Hey, you heard what Dad said,” he jokes, heading for the door. “No need to thank me, sister. It’s what big brothers are for.”

My cheeks radiate with a little ache as I smile. It doesn’t take long before he’s back, arms overflowing with things. Two pairs of sweatpants, two t-shirts, and some shower products.

“I doubt any of the stuff in there is good,” he explains, tossing it all on my bed for me to go through. “Martha keeps the soap, towels, and regular toiletries stocked, but there’s probably just a bar of soap in the shower.”

He’s brought shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. “All my stuff is dude-scented, but we’ll get you your own things to replace it soon.”

I could have made do with the bar of soap, but I won’t lie and say that I’m not giddy to wash and condition my hair.

“Dude-scented is just fine,” I say, meaning it. Smelling clean is all I need. I almost tell him thank you again but refrain. “Is your room on this floor too?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yep, end of the hall on the right. Best room in the house.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because it’s mine, duh,” he answers, grinning.

“Of course,” I chuckle.

Matteo lets himself out of my room after offering me a fist bump goodnight.

Mind still reeling from the day, I let the silence of my new space wash over me and begin to look around. Dreamily, I find my way into the bathroom, bringing the things Matteo gave me inside. It’s more like a spa I’d see in a magazine than any bathroom I’ve ever been in. The walk-in shower is the same sort of toffee-colored marble from top to bottom, and it calls my name immediately.

More than five minutes, I remind myself. I can use it for as long as I want, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

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