With a belly full of food, I locked arms with Tate and followed Drake down the hallway. He stopped at a metal door and hit a button on the wall. When the doors opened, my jaw dropped.
“Oh, my God.” I gasped. “You have an elevator in your house?”
Drake nodded. “How else would I get to the Battle Cave?”
I turned to face my brother and mouthed, “Wow.”
Tate shook his head and whispered, “Rich people.”
We stepped inside and rode in silence to the second floor. When the doors opened, Drake held them and said to me, “Ladies first.”
My heart raced as our eyes met, and a blush spread across my cheeks. “Such a gentleman.”
He winked. “After you.”
I looked like a dirty animal, unshowered and covered in filth. Horrific scents radiated from my body like a sick perfume. Yet, Drake showed no sign of disgust. His nose didn’t even tip up at the smell of our unwashed skin and hair.
Drake put his hand on my shoulder and steered me down a long, wide hallway. I couldn’t recall the last time anyone apart from Tate had touched me. And I liked how it felt to be noticed by this gorgeous billionaire.
We passed a dozen closed doors before Drake stopped at the end of the corridor.
“Tate, this is your room,” he said, tipping his head to the right. “And you, my lady, are in here.”
A lady?
Me?
I wanted to laugh.
He had me confused with someone else. I looked like a freaking gutter rat.
Drake put both hands on my shoulders and led me inside the bedroom beside Tate’s. “This is yours. I had it redecorated for you. I hope you like pink.”
I stepped into the vast space, feeling like an outsider watching someone go through the motions. A room fit for a queen, it had a separate sitting room with couches, chairs, and the largest flat-screen television I’d ever seen.
In the main bedroom sat an oversized bed with a dozen pillows and silky soft bedding. I ran my hand over the duvet and then plopped onto the mattress.
“Of course, it feels like sleeping on a cloud.”
My brother lay beside me, staring up at the ceiling. “Oh god. This is better than sex.”
“Ew.” I slapped his arm. “Don’t say stuff like that.”
Drake dropped into the armchair and laughed.
“What? It’s true.” Tate closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. “I haven’t sat on an actual bed in years. You were lucky they split us up. My foster homes were disgusting. If they had beds, they were nasty or had bedbugs.”
I rested my head on his chest. “You’re safe now.”
Tate curled his arm around me and patted my shoulder. “Nothing will ever keep us apart.”
Drake leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his thighs. “My room is on the top floor. But I usually end up falling asleep on the couch in the Battle Cave.”
“I want to see this cave,” Tate said, sitting up to look at Drake.
“After dinner,” he said and rose from the chair. “Feel free to shower or take a nap. This is your home now.”
“I need to wash my clothes.” Tate tugged at his dirty shirt and sniffed. “It’s been a while since?—”
