Despite his easy agreement, they were kidding themselves. They couldn’t stay away from each other. It was only a matter of time.
He turned the Porsche down his street, quiet and lined with tall palm trees, then pulled into the curving driveway. Damn, he still had to fix the gate. It was something he could have had his assistant do, if he hadn’t fired the guy.
At the end of the drive, Dimitri clicked the remote for the garage, pausing while the door raised. The exterior of the sprawling one-story was more Spanish style than he preferred, having grown up in Brooklyn, but the red clay roof tiles and white stucco were growing on him. Behind him, Natasha parked in the driveway, like she usually did. But when he got out, he grabbed one of the other remotes and opened the middle spot, which had been Nik’s, indicating she should park there. His BMW X3 SUV occupied the third spot.
He opened her door when she shut the car off, and offered her a hand to step out. She took the assistance, but behind her glasses, her dark, heavy-lidded eyes held wariness, like she didn’t trust his help. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, but he didn’t comment on it. It was time he came to terms with the fact that he hadn’t done enough to earn her trust. Moving her into his home afforded him the perfect opportunity to gauge her feelings, to test if she wanted more.
“New car?” he asked, eying the Prius.
She sighed, giving the vehicle a sideways glance. “Yeah. New car.”
“That’s exciting.”
“More like unexpected and expensive.”
She opened the trunk and together they collected her meager belongings to carry into the house. She’d had to leave a lot behind, sealed airtight, and some of it had been dropped off at the dry cleaners on the way to his house.
At the threshold between the garage and the house, she paused and cleared her throat. “You said you had a spare bedroom?”
He wanted her in his bed, like always, but he was willing to play this out. “Yeah, this way.”
At Nik’s door, she pulled back, brow creased. “Isn’t this your brother’s room?”
“It was.” He pushed the door open and carried her bags inside, where he set them in a line under the window. “He got a spot on the national tour of thatSeize the Nightmusical and moved out a few months ago. Says he’ll get his own place when it’s over.” It made sense, but Dimitri couldn’t help but feel like Nikolai was leaving him behind, a betrayal of sorts. He gestured around the room. “Some of Nik’s stuff is still in the closet, but there should be space for you to hang things up, and I think the drawers are empty.”
“Thanks.” She lingered in the doorway.
“What’s wrong?” Her hesitation jabbed at his nerves, made his voice sharp. “Are you a vampire? Waiting for an invitation? Come in.”
Her lips flattened into a line and she rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. With a deliberate step, she entered the room and dumped her belongings on top of the now-bare dresser. “Better?” she snapped.
It wasn’t, but he liked the bite in her voice. It was better than the cool, reserved demeanor she usually showed him, or the frantic worry when he’d called her earlier. And while he didn’t like settling her in here, it didn’t matter where her stuff was. Sooner or later, she’d be back in his bed. And maybe this time, she’d stay.
“Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”
“A tour?” She turned away from where she had started to line up a series of bottles on the dresser, eyes wide and tone incredulous.
“Yeah. I’ll show you the rest of the house.” He took her hand and pulled her from the room. She didn’t resist, but the stunned look didn’t leave her face.
“Macho.”
He stopped at the sound of his nickname on her lips. He loved that she had one for him, something she didn’t call anyone else.
She stared at him like he was crazy. “I’ve been here before. I was hereyesterday,in fact. I don’t need a tour.”
“That was different,” he said. “That’s when you were just—”
Her eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms. “When I was just what?”
He was digging a hole for himself, but he couldn’t stop his mouth. “You were just going to my bedroom.” And the sofa. And the dining table. And the pool—“There are some rooms you haven’t seen. I want you to feel at home here.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she went with him.
He pointed out the hall bathroom, which would be hers to use. Then the kitchen, gym, TV lounge, and his office, which also held a small pullout sofa.
When he opened the office door, he spotted a short stack of papers on his desk and paused.
Shit. His contract forThe Dance Off.He hadn’t signed it yet, hadn’t decided if he was going to or not. Now that he’d seen it, the pressure to sign weighed on him, like the contract was staring at him.Sign me,it said.Give up on your dreams. You know they aren’t going anywhere. Might as well sign me.
