Page 37 of Rhet

She’s proud, but that’s not going to fly with me. Those clothes have to go, or she goes.

“Say one more fucking thing and you’re out.” I point my finger at her. She tightens her lips like she has a ton more to say. Under different circumstances, it might be cute.

“Come with me.”

Heading out of the kitchen, she follows me as I pass the grand staircase in the foyer. On the other side of the stairs, we reach the game room and walk through to the door on the left, which carries us into the garage. As I flick the lights on, she gasps behind me. I forget my babies are above average.

“Wow. How many cars do you have in here?”

I smile. It feels sort of nice showing someone my secret vice. “I have fifteen.”

Quickly, I open the safe on the wall and take out the fob to the black 2021 Audi A8. I pass her the fob. We walk to my black beauty.

“This is yours until your time is up.” She looks down at the fob dumbfounded. “I don’t have the time to explain it all. It has a V8 TFSI engine. There’s lane change and parking assist. Ambient lighting and every bell and whistle you can think of.”

She passes her hand over the hood of the car. “This is beautiful, thank you.”

“Don’t get this shit twisted. This isn’t a Christmas present for you. This is a tool to make you more efficient for me.”

She nods, but I don’t think she’s hearing me at all.

“Come.”

I walk out of the garage to a covered walkway that leads right down to the pool house. As the pool house comes into view, I feel a sense of pride. Unlike the mansion, which I had no input in, I personally designed this house for my mom when she needs an escape.

It’s quite different from my home. The house behind me is imposing, meant to strike fear in people. This place is inviting.

I don’t know if it’s the sloped roof or huge floor to ceiling glass windows, but this home brings light and comfort. I had special oak delivered to build the one of kind handcrafted kitchen and bathroom.

Julian handled the rest of the interior design, keeping a warm, clean, yet rustic feel. Zeeta gasps at my side yet again. I guess she likes it.

“This is so cute,” she whispers.

We arrive at the front of the house, and I open the accordion black frame glass doors. She passes me and goes straight into the kitchen.

“Even though there’s AC, you can open the accordion door to create more space and get a nice breeze.” I look at her as she passes her hand over the stainless-steel farm sink.

“This is beautiful craftmanship,” she affirms.

“It’s an open floor plan. The only places that have walls are the kitchen and bathroom.” I point to the bed, next to it is a sliding barn door.

She skips out of the kitchen and turns to the bedroom. She touches the edge of the pink and white floral blanket with her fingertips.

“I like this. It seems so out of place with all the steel and wood.”

“My mom would come here to relax ever so often. The blanket is hers, it’s her favorite.” It’s her favorite because it was the last thing Trent picked up for her at the mall weeks before he died.

“What about privacy? There are so many windows.”

She touches her wet chest. Normally wet clothing on a woman would be hot. I should be seeing nipples.

Her breast should be seen through the shirt. The stupid jacket has doubled in size and droops on her body. There’s nothing attractive about it. I move close to the bed, open the cupboard, and throw her a towel.

“Take that Jack the Ripper jacket off and dry off. I will not pay you when you have to stay home with a damn cold. You can throw it in the dryer in the bathroom.”

She peels off the jacket slowly and just what I was hoping for is revealed, a wet white shirt. However, I see fucking nothing. No bra, no nipples, nothing. What the hell does she have on under there, another suit?

Shit, she’s turning me into a fucking creeper. I don’t even understand why I’m trying to see anything. I mean, she’s pretty, but I’ve dated beauty queens.

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