Page 37 of Vicious Arrangement
“Hell no. We can make each other miserable.”
“Great,” I say.
“Good,” he adds. Then at a sound of growling, he turns, and I do too.
“Angus!”
My dog’s dirtied his white couch and is currently standing on it, ripping a cream cushion into shreds like he’s found his worst enemy.
Angus looks at me, whines, then goes back to it.
I clap. “Angus, no! Here. Now!”
With another whine, he reluctantly pours himself off the sofa and trots over to me, catching the look on Noah’s face and pressing against me, growling up at him.
I know exactly how he feels.
Noah points at Angus. “That… vile beast is only allowed in your room and outside. I’ll get him shoes he can wear inside. And when I say can, I mean will.”
Relief floods me at the mention of my own room. We hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements, and after the other night… our wedding night… I thought… hoped…no, dreaded we’d be sharing a bed.
I don’t want that.
I don’t even like myself much for caving hours into being a married couple and sleeping with him. It’s utterly pathetic.
And I shamefully hold every moment of that rough, urgent coupling to my bones.
His dark brown eyes touch on me, and something flares, making me unable to move, stilling him, too. But then he shifts his gaze.
“I’ll show you. Come on. I don’t have much time to spare today.”
I cling to those words, letting the resentment at the burden he’s making me feel like build. Angus and I—this time my hand on his leash. Follow him down a hall that’s past the kitchen. I say hall, but it’s giant pieces of art suspended from the high, black and white painted industrial ceiling and anchored on big blocks of half wall. It’s airy, elegant and unexpected.
I follow him around the corner, past what looks like a library, and then up a set of stairs that turn in the middle. Then we come out near the elevator, and he points to one end, past the living room that’s smaller, to a pair of closed pocket doors.
“My room.”
He turns, and points in the other direction. “Small kitchenette and wet bar, study, coat closet, and there, other end, is your room. There are two guest bedrooms on the lower level.”
He walks down the long wide hall that leads off to rooms or doors to the huge wrap around terrace that from here looks like a countryside garden with its high walls and blooms of colors and trees. He pushes open the pocket doors and I step into a massive bedroom.
It’s gorgeous from the queen size bed to the little sitting area and coffee table. There’s even a desk near the floor to ceiling glass walls that are hugged by curtains.
“There are blackout and privacy blinds and the central air is controlled over here.” He points to a system on the wall.
“This area of the garden is yours. I made sure Alonso put up trellises that open so you can have privacy or have it open.”
I nod, looking at the outdoor lounge, the table, the swing chair, the tree with citrus and all the flowers blooming. It’s gorgeous.
Then, when I turn, I see the dog bed. Or beds. They’re huge, one has option for him to slide inside in winter or lounge on top, while the other is a basket design, that’s all lined so he can lie on it.
“The dog beds are great. I didn’t expect?—”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll rip them to pieces in minutes,” Noah mutters. “If you need anything or help getting things up here, Alonso is here, and the chef can spare a few minutes. But Carrie’s here all day, so just ask, okay? They’re here until six. And I need to get to fucking work.”
With that, Noah leaves. I stare after him. I didn’t exactly expect a parade or a welcoming committee, but I thought he might stay a little longer to give me a brief tour.
And it’s not until I hear the ding of the lift that I remember I don’t have keys. There must be a door somewhere. The stairs have to lead up to here, too. Fire codes and all that. But I don’t have anywhere to be. Angus’s bowls and food are in one of my wheelie cases, along with his toys and other bedding he likes.
