Page 60 of Undeniably Corrupt
I roll my eyes at her. “I have three cars and two motorcycles, and there are some days I don’t leave the office and won’t be able to take you home. The car seat is already there. Use it.”
“Vander—”
“Liora, not everything has to be a fight.”
“You’ve said that to me before. Right before you, you know, on your desk.”
“Is that the only way to get you to listen and do what I ask without argument?”
“You’re not getting that again.”
“So you just told me. Shame. I liked doing that.”
She gasps, her face turning redder than it was a second ago, and I can’t help my small laugh. So fucking cute.
“Use the car. I like my BMW, my GTO, and my bikes more anyway.”
“That’s a Porsche SUV.”
I nod. “Yeah. So it’s safe.”
She squints at me, adjusting Hazel, who’s starting to squirm in her arms. “It looks and smells new.”
It is. I bought it this morning, but I don’t tell her that.
I roll my eyes, ever one to deflect. “Are you done with this so we can go inside? It’s cold out here.”
“For now.”
“Were you this difficult when we dated?”
“I was young and naive when we dated. I had no clue that wolves wore sheep’s clothing.”
“And who are these wolves, Angel?” I cock an eyebrow, but I already know she won’t answer. I bring them through the houseand show them the kitchen, family room, living room, dining room, office, which she can use as Hazel’s playroom since my office is in the basement, library, gym, and sunroom where my drums are. She takes in every part of my restored Victorian with silent observation, and then we head upstairs.
“My room is down there.” I point to the end of the long hallway. “There are five other bedrooms, three more on this floor, and two on the third. You and Hazel can have your pick. The laundry room is next to my room, right there.” I point again to the closed door. The bedrooms on the third floor share a bathroom, and the three on this floor each have their own.”
“And you don’t care which we take?”
“Nope. It’s your choice. Do we need to get a bed for Hazel, or does she still use a crib?”
“I have rails for the bed. They fold up and are in the box. That’s what I used before.”
“Okay. I’m gonna bring the rest of your stuff in and then head into the office and leave you to it.”
I turn to go when she stops me yet again. She sets Hazel down and pulls me in for a hug that surprises me.
“Thank you. I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re starting to make me believe again.” She kisses my cheek and steps back, her eyes glassy and her expression one of stupefied wonder.
My heart gives a familiar thud that I don’t like the feeling of.
Without another word, I jog down the stairs, bring the rest of her things inside for her, and head to the garage to get on my Ducati Streetfighter and get the hell out of here. Because she’s starting to make me believe in things, too. Things I told myself I’d never want or could ever have.
19
Idrum my fingers against the heavy glass of Vander’s desk, eyeing the closed door at the far end of the office like it’s insulted me. Which, in its silent, impenetrable way, it has, since I haven’t seen Vander since he left his house on Monday, and today is Thursday.
Behind the door he affectionately calls the closet, guarded with two forms of biometrics and a keypad, Vander has sequestered himself, and part of me can’t help but take it personally. I’m essentially living alone in his house. Cooking in his kitchen and afraid to touch anything. If that isn’t weird, I don’t know what is.
