Page 25 of Master

“That’s their thing,” I explain, turning my attention back to the road. “He likes her brattiness because he enjoys putting her back into her place.”

“And you?”

“I am surrounded by brothers’ brats—who I love dearly—but I do not desire to have one of my own.”

The final blocks of our drive are taken in silence, with Sasha staring out the window as I drive through Lincoln Square. Passing the grassy oasis before my building, she gasps, “You live here?”

“For the time being, so do you.” I smirk, pulling into the parking garage and navigating the levels to my designated spot. We take the elevator up to my floor. She steps from the cab when the doors open, glancing between the two doors—mine and the onefor the apartment that faces the city. I place my hand on the small of her back and lead her toward mine. Swiping my phone over the lock, I push open the door and usher her inside.

“Welcome home, Sasha.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

SASHA

Stepping into Liam’s apartment, I slowly exhale, “Wow.”

It’s remarkable.

My eyes dart around the grand space, trying to take it all in. The palette is rich with shades of brown and gray, with the perfect amount of cream fixtures and furnishings to keep it from feeling too dark. The heels of my new booties click against the hardwood floor as I walk toward the massive, double-sided, marble fireplace in the center of the room.

The same gray stone adorns the counters of the dark-gray kitchen at the far end of the open space. It is massive, with an island big enough to host a party—or his family. The island and counters are immaculate, with cooking utensils, oils, and seasonings perfectly arranged in decorative canisters. “You like to cook?” I ask.

“No.” His answer surprises me. “The only things I use in here are the microwave for takeout leftovers and the dishwasher.”

“A kitchen like that and you don’t cook?” I laugh. “That’s the kind of kitchen I dream of.”

“If you enjoy cooking, you are welcome to it. I will happily eat a meal that doesn’t come from Happy Fortune down the street.”

Continuing to wander the space as Liam locks the door and empties his pockets onto the table in the small foyer. I run my hands along the soft brown leather couch as I make my way toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. Staring over the terrace, I take in the waterfront view. Liam’s reflection alerts me that he is standing immediately behind me. “The sunsets are fucking breathtaking. Nearly as gorgeous as you,” he flirtatiously whispers, causing my cheeks to flush. “Let me show you the rest of the place.”

Leading me through the apartment, Liam shows me his office and a small home gym. We reach the end of the hallway, and Liam points at each of the doors. “The one on the right is my room, and the one on the left is yours.”

Taken back, I spin toward him and ask, “I won’t be in your room?”

“I told you, sweetheart, this wasn’t a rouse to merely fuck you.”

“When I agreed, I just assumed?—”

With a firm tone, he imparts, “You will sleep in your own bed.”

“Oh…” I blurt, realizing a second too late it sounds like I’m all but begging for him to fuck me. Not that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind at least a couple of dozen times with our conversations being focused on sex at the restaurant.

“I only share my bed with women I’m in relationships with. Not ones I’m training.” Reaching around me, he turns the knob to the door for my room and pushes it open. “It keeps the emotional boundaries clear, so that when this arrangementcomes to an end neither of us is expecting more. You will be sleeping in here.”

Lightly gripping my shoulders, he turns me toward the open threshold, and I am in awe of the room before me. It has the same sensational view of the water as the living room. The walls are a deep gray like the rest of the apartment, but the linens and decor are feminine shades of dusty rose and ultra-pale pink. A vase of fresh flowers to match the duvet sits on the center of the dresser.

“You did all this for me?” I exclaim.

“I had some help,” he shares, walking into the room. “Layla helped to choose the bedding and bought you some more clothes.”

Crossing the room, I excitedly pull open the closet door and am met with a near-full closet. I flip through the hangars to see them better, loving everything that Layla got for me. “I assumed since you didn’t reach out about what I sent last night that everything we had got was the right size.”

“It was.”

“When you have lunch with Layla, Cat, and Quinn later this week, I’ll be sure to give you my card so you can buy yourself some other things you like.”

His generosity is overwhelming, and as much as I appreciate and like it, it makes me feel uncomfortable. Dropping my gaze to the floor, I mutter, “You really didn’t have to do all this for me.”

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