Page 44 of Resisting Royal

CHAPTER 22

ROYAL

After Troy and Genie left, I decided to take the evening off. Well, sort off. There was plenty of work I could do from my home office and still be in the presence of Bianca, even if she was a whole room or two away. The funeral was harder than I anticipated, but I didn’t know why I hadn’t expected it. Paul was a good friend, and as I aged, the rapid decline of my friends and acquaintances seemed inevitable.

It was almost nine o’clock when I left my office to go in search of my woman. My mother had long since been in bed, and as far as I knew, Bianca hadn’t left the living room. I found her snuggled under a giant blanket on the couch, the room completely dark aside from the television flashing in front of her.

I approached quietly, not sure if she was awake or asleep. If she was, in fact, asleep like I suspected, I would turn off the television and save our talk about her father until tomorrow. I entered the room, my socked feet making the barest of sounds against the hard floor. Shit, she was cute, wrapped up like she was living through a blizzard under the biggest blanket I’d ever seen. She had to have brought it with her from her house because there was no way it was here before then.

“I can hear you breathing like a creepy stalker, you know,” I heard her mumble, half asleep.

I grinned even though I know she couldn’t see it. “Do I look like the stalking type?”

“No. You are the take-whatever-I-want-when-I-want-other-people’s-opinions-be-damned type.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing as I found the spot next to her on the couch. I reached out, grabbing her feet and pulling them out of the blanket onto my lap so I could rub her calves as I talked. “I think you secretly like my domineering ways.”

“I like dominants sometimes, but I’m not too fond of cavemen.” She finally turned and looked at me.

My head fell dramatically to the back of the couch, then I rolled my head to look in her direction. “I’m hardly a caveman.”

“Think what you will, Russo, but I’ll happily give you a list of qualities and actions that you have that are very much of the caveman variety.”

She moaned when my hands found a potentially sore spot on her leg. “Would a caveman give you a calf and foot massage?”

I held up my hands, stopping my ministrations. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“We need to talk, is now a good time?” I finally asked her, not wanting for my mind to get more sidetracked than it already was when it came to her. She mumbled her agreement as her head rested against the arm of the couch, her eyes closed. “Okay, so first things first. Your house.”

Her head popped up. “What about it?”

“Nothing really. All the repairs and updates are complete. You have two options, to sell it, the market is amazing right now. Or rent it, in which case I can have a rental agency on it by tomorrow midday.”

She looked thoughtful. “But, no chance I can move into it again?”

My hand moved past her knee and up her inner thigh. Her breath caught as I said, “Not a chance. Ever.”

She blew out a breath as she licked her lips. “I like your shower better anyway. I love my house, so I guess for now, until I can bear to part with it or you grant me a divorce, I’ll rent it.”

The mention of divorce had me tightening my grip as my hand approached her upper thigh. “Done. Next thing I want to talk about is your father.”

Her body stiffened at this, and she pulled away from my touch. She sat up, her hair a crazy mess around her, her face illuminated by the flash of the television screen. “What’s wrong with my father?”

I cleared my throat. “Nothing. I have the leasing agent at the apartment complex check in on him, and she said he looks well and seems to be doing wonderfully.”

Her brows scrunched together, her concern despite my reassurance still present. “Then why do we need to talk about him? Is he having trouble with rent? I will pay it for him. Once I rent my house out, I’m sure the extra income will be more than enough to cover it.”

I patted the leg I still held. “No. I’ll cover his living expenses and yours. Whatever money you get is yours to spend or yours to save.” She gave me a couple of good dramatic blinks, and I ignored her and continued on. “I got a call the other night from Frank. He wanted to take out another loan.”

Her body pulled back in what could only be described as a mix of shock and anger. “He what?”

“Wanted another loan,” I repeated, then hurriedly added, “I didn’t give it to him, of course, not yet anyway.”

“But?” she prompted.

“There is no but. If and when I give your father any sort of loan, it will be completely up to you. I’ll give anything you want, when you want, but not before you give me the go-ahead.”

There was that confused blinking again. “You are giving me a say?”

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