Page 80 of King of Temptation

“That’s right. But leave these out. My uncle will be shopping as well.”

“Jake is shopping for what?” I ask, now completely confused. I thought Jake was a bachelor for life.

But Leo is already leading me out of the room. “Do they need to be sized?” he asks me instead of answering.

“No.” Both rings are a perfect fit.

“Did you make any progress on the furniture front?”

I shake my head. “Every piece of furniture I’ve ever acquired has been from the side of the road,” I say quietly. “I don’t have any idea how to furnish a house like this.”

Leo pauses before he wraps an arm about my waist. “One piece at a time. Let me see if I can find a tape measure.”

Right. We should know what size to get.

An hour later, we’re browsing sectionals with price tags that make my head spin.

I’m sitting on the bed, Leo behind me, my body tucked between his powerful thighs.

It’s ridiculously comfortable and really fun actually as Leo pulls up a leather sectional. “Too masculine?”

I snuggle deeper into him. “How am I supposed to know?”

He laughs. “I think no dark brown,” he scrolls down to a caramel-colored sectional. I point. “What about that one?”

The floors are dark, and the walls a very light cream. “I like it,” I say as he reaches over to the nightstand where the credit card sits.

It’s then that my phone rings.

It’s a New York number so I click the call as I’m scooting off the bed. “Hello?”

“May I speak with Kimberly Evingston?”

“This is she,” I smile back at Leo but he’s not typing in the numbers, he’s staring at me, his expression strained.

“Hi. This is Rebecca Stonefield from the New York Ballet.”

“Hi,” I answer, my heart beginning to pound. This call is seriously happening now? After everything that’s happened this week, now is when the ballet chooses to call?

“We’re calling you to offer you a spot on our upcoming roster.”

“Oh,” I say, swallowing down a lump. “Thank you so much for the opportunity but I’ve decided to stay in Las Vegas for one more semester.”

“Of course,” she answers. “That makes sense. I’m sure Mr. Kincaid will be very pleased to hear it.”

I hang up, blinking at the phone. Why would the New York Ballet have any idea I was dating a Kincaid?

“Kim,” Leo says, his voice holding an edge that makes me physically start. I blink up at him, my stomach churning.

“Why did she think you’d be pleased? Why does the New York Ballet know who you are?”

He grimaces. “Kim.”

The sense of dread is building as I lower my phone. “Leo.”

He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I’m not proud of some of the things I’ve done.”

My heart is pounding, blood thundering through my ears. “Tell me.”

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