Page 113 of Revenge & Ruin

I brush my hand through his hair, pulling it back from his face. “Until you can buy somewhere nice in Manhattan.”

“Ican buy it for you?” He laughs.

I hum noncommittally. “What, you don’t want your girlfriend to be happy?”

His mouth cracks into a devastating smile. Oh, he liked that. He liked that a lot.

“I wasn’t aware that I had a girlfriend. Or that she would be so high maintenance.”

I’m about to be much more than your girlfriend.I don’t say because I’m waiting for a better moment than this.

What I do say is, “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you told me you loved me.”

“You’re right. The fault is entirely mine.” He leans in and kisses me ever so softly.

I melt into it, wrapping my arms around his neck as he presses another to the corner of my mouth. Then, my cheek. Then, my ear.

There, he whispers. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“I better be.”

He chuckles. “Possessive,belle?”

“You have no idea.”

This time, the kiss is filthy. His tongue hungrily explores my mouth, languishing in every groan I let out.

“Come on,” he says as he pulls away, taking me again by the hand. “I want to show my girlfriend where she’ll be living until I can afford to set us up in Manhattan.”

I let him lead me inside. The house—well, mansion really—was gorgeous the last time I was here. But I never had a chance to explore beyond the ground floor.

The hallway is wide and lined with sleek, modern fixtures. The silver track lighting that follows us feels almost theatrical, and the hardwood floors gleam underfoot.

The kitchen is striking in its own way, with granite countertops and a stainless steel fridge that looks like it belongs in a five-star restaurant, although I know most of it is crammed with medical supplies.

“You don’t strike me as someone who cooks too much,” I tease as I examine the extensive display of Japanese cooking knives on the wall.

“I get by,” he admits sheepishly before gesturing out. “Shall we?”

I wait for him to slip out before I hastily wrap one of the knives in the sleeve of my jacket.

“Follow me,” he murmurs when I reappear, guiding me down another hallway that opens into a study.

But calling it a study feels almost inadequate.

One wall is taken up by monitors, each displaying an array of code, maps, and schematics. High-tech equipment hums on a wide, glass-top desk, surrounded by low-lit towers of servers, the quiet whir of electronics filling the air.

He definitely notices my wide-eyed look because he gives me a smug smile. “Like it?”

“It’s…like my own personal playground.”

“I’ll introduce you later,” he replies mildly before taking my hand again. “There’s something else I want to show you first.”

We take the stairs up and head toward a set of double doors at the end of the hallway.

He winks at me before he twists the handle and opens it, gesturing for me to step inside.

It’s his bedroom.

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