Page 72 of Dirty Play

I bark out a laugh, but she’s not done.

“You have a chandelier the size of my bathroom.”

“That’s dramatic,” I scoff, closing the door behind me.

“That thing could kill someone.” She whirls on me, pointing a finger at the crystal chandelier hanging above the entryway.

“Only if it falls.” I give her my best grin before walking past her, urging her to follow me.

“And how exactly did you get this place?” she asks from behind me. “This isn’t just hockey.”

“I own a real estate agency with Damien and Ares,” I throw over my shoulder.

“I should’ve Googled you harder,” she sighs. “Wait, do you have staff?”

“Yeah.” I laugh, enjoying this way too much.

“Like, maids? And a chef?” Her jaw drops.

“A housekeeper comes by a few times a week.” I stop in front of the bar, turning to face her. “I got a guy who takes care of my cars and security. And yeah, I have a chef who comes from time to time when I don’t feel like cooking.”

Livia drags a hand down her face.

“You haveachef for when you don’t feel like cooking?”

“Relax, hellcat.” I push off the bar, strolling toward her. “I’ll tell him to come and make you something if you want.”

“You’re not dragging the poor man here just to cook for us.” She levels me with a look as if I’m not paying him to do it.

“We’ll just order takeout.” I chuckle, shaking my head. I pull out my phone.

“What are you hungry for, baby?” I step closer, my voice dropping. “I know what I’m hungry for.”

Her breath hitches.

Got her.

Before she can combust, I hand her my phone with the food app pulled up. “Pick something.”

Thirty minutes later, we take our food outside, the air warm against my skin as I lead Livia to the poolside dining area. The infinity pool glows a soft blue in the setting sun, stretching toward the edge of the hill, making it look like it spills straight into the city below.

Livia sits next to me, kicking off her shoes and tucking her legs onto the chair, looking way too comfortable in my space like she belongs here. Like she’s been here a hundred times before. And I love it.

I pass her the takeout container, watching as she picks at the food, her expression quiet, different from before.

“What? I arch a brow. “Still worried that my chandelier might kill you on the way out?”

“No.” She huffs a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’ve already accepted that you live like a Bond villain. It’s fine.”

I smirk, but she’s still playing with her food, not really eating.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I tilt my head.

“It’s just…” She exhales, setting down her chopsticks. “This is so different from where I’m from.”

“Yeah?” I lean back in my chair, studying her.

She nods. “I grew up in a small rural farming town.” She half-smiles, but there’s something tight in it. “Nobody leaves. Nobody does anything big. You’re just born there, you grow up there, and then you die.”

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