“And I won’t stay at The Downs without paying my way,” I fired back.
“Oh, you will, Vivi,” he warned silkily.
“You can’t make me.”
“And you can’t leave us, and you already knew that before you learned of black mold,” he retorted.
Fuck.
Fuck!
“You don’t even want to,” he pressed his advantage.
“We’ll discuss this in London,” I said tightly.
“If you wish.”
“And between times, maybe make a passing attempt at thinking about it from my point of view.”
“I shall do so, if you make the same promise.”
“I’m sorry, Battle, but even if I was rich as fuck, I probably wouldn’t let my sister’s dear friend hang at my house and eat all my food in perpetuity.”
“That isn’t my perspective, and you know it.”
Okay, okay, okay.
I liked this guy.
He was complicated. He was smart. He was funny. He was gallant. He was handsome as all hell. He was a ludicrously good brother. He respected women. He was protective. He was generous. He was an amazing flirt. He thought I was beautiful. He was interested in what I did. He’d read my books. He was honest. He was frank.
I could fall for this guy.
Hard.
And for forever.
Was he saying he felt the same way about me?
“Now, if you haven’t come to your senses by tomorrow, we’ll revisit this subject then,” he said into my fevered reverie.
Oh shit.
“Come to my senses?” I asked dangerously.
He sighed heavily.
“Fine. Tomorrow,” I snapped.
“Until then, darling.”
I was never, ever, ever going to tell him this.
But I was pretty sure I’d let him get away with anything as long as he called me darling.
“By the way, I might have uncovered bribes in your butler’s ledgers for 1946. I think shit went down in that house, and two footmen were dragged into it, or they witnessed it and were paid to be silent. See you tomorrow,” I bid.
And then I disconnected.
