“No!” I said. “No, I do not need money. I’m fine. You should definitely buy this house.”
His gaze remained serious on me as he lowered himself into the bath. I picked at my nails.
“Financially, I’m fine. I promise. When I have a permanent contract, I’ll tell my landlord I’m leaving. My brother said I can stay with him when I go back to England. Everything will be sorted soon enough.”
I’d only spent a couple of weeks at mine since my dad had died.
Ben was pretty used to me hanging around.
Nix nodded but still looked at me with caution. “You don’t have a permanent contract?”
“Not yet.”
He was quiet and then went to speak. I cut him off. “This,” I gestured between us, “would eradicate my temporary contract immediately.”
“If youdoneed money—”
“I don’t,” I urged and stood up. “I’ll go and make us a cup of tea. Do you have anything for your dinner?”
“I’ll pick us up a takeaway,” he said, relaxing further into the bath.
“The two of us?” That didn’t sound like hate fucking.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the warm water. “Yes. You’re not going out in the storm.”
As he said it, lightning cracked the sky in two.
“I’ll stay until it dies down,” I compromised. He looked peaceful despite the pain in his arm. “I’ll only be a minute. Don’t drown.”
He smiled softly as I left.
After searching through the largest kitchen I had ever seen, I made tea, listening to a murder mystery podcast. Swept up in it, it only felt like minutes before he joined me in his boxers and slippers.
We’d fucked for days, but I’d never seen him so at home.
“Put some clothes on!” I cried, covering my eyes with one of my hands.
He came to my side with a smirk and took my cup of tea from my grip, putting it down on the kitchen side.
“No, no,” I said, shaking my head and stepping back. “I’m not happy with you. You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie,” he said with a sigh. “We just didn’t tell you.Criswas fine with it.”
“Crisdoesn’t have a degree in public relations,” I snapped and picked up my cup of tea, holding it to my lips and trying to use it to shield his body from my view. “Neither do you.Crishasn’t questioned focus groups of men, women and children on you.Crisdoesn’t read every comment on every one of your posts, every article about you.Crisdoesn’t make pie charts on what gets you more positive reactions. I’m literally employed to help you with your image. On atemporarycontract, so if you could help me instead of hinder me and potentially make me lose my job, that would be great.”
His brows were down, eyes darkening under their shadow. “I won’t let you lose your job.”
I shook my head, dismissing him. “For once, it’s not about you.Luca’smanager would be rightly furious if he thought that, one, we were together or, two, I was doing a poor job. It’s not your decision to fire me.”
“I’d stop racing,” he said, stepping closer to me.
My brows shot right down. Racing was this man’s life.He’d said in countless interviews that he was nothing without racing.
Just thinking with his dick.
I scoffed. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”
“Have I ever done anything to make you not believe me?”
