“I can’t afford?—”
“And you won’t have to.” I look into her eyes firmly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Savannah pouts. She doesn’t argue further, but keeps stealing glances at me like she’s not sure if she should be grateful or annoyed. It’s quickly becoming one of my new favorite expressions on her.
She’s sitting up now, hair a little messy from sleep, blanket still wrapped around her legs. Color has returned to her face. She looks alive. That’s all I needed.
“You’re cleared to move around,” I tell her. “Slowly.”
She rolls her eyes, just a little. “I’m not a porcelain doll.”
“You fainted in my arms last night.”
“That was… situational.”
I arch a brow. “Situational.”
She shrugs, refusing to meet my eyes. “You know. Stress. Panic. Garbage alley ambiance.”
She’s trying to distract herself with sarcasm, which I take as a good sign. I stand and offer her a hand.
“Come on,” I say. “You’ve been in bed long enough. I’ll show you the house.”
Her eyes widen. “The house? As in the whole house?”
The corner of my lips lift in a smile as I lift her gently from the bed. I wait, while she finds her balance. “Yes. It’s not that big.”
She makes a small disbelieving sound. “It looks that big.”
“It isn’t.”
“Yes it is,” she mutters, following me anyway.
I guide her through the main hall, past the stone fireplace and the open living area. She keeps turning slowly, taking in everything like she’s trying to memorize it.
“This is like… a wood cabin had a baby with a billionaire’s hunting lodge,” she says.
“That’s one way to put it.”
She glances at me. “Everything here is huge.”
“You get used to it.”
“No,” she says firmly. “No, you don’t. Normal people don’t get used to chandeliers the size of cars.”
Her bluntness pulls a laugh out of me before I can stop it. She stops walking, blinking at me like she’s surprised too.
We move into the kitchen. My staff stocked it yesterday. Fresh produce, bread delivered this morning, equipment that cost more than some people’s annual rent. Savannah stands in the middle of it, hands on her hips, squinting at the sleek counters.
“You live here alone?”
“Yes.”
“With all this space?”
“Yes.”
She shakes her head. “I’d get lost.”
