I reach down and scoop up the cat carrier. Some Bills seems wary of the dog and a little ruffled, but otherwise fine. I’m so glad I put him in the carrier for this—I’d hate to have lost him somewhere in this labyrinth of luxury.
“I texted you that we were on our way—” Wesley cuts himself off as his eyes land on the Great Dane panting at the bottom of the stairs. “Is that a dog?”
“No, it’s a mini horse with personal boundary issues and a very enthusiastic way of saying hello,” I say, wiping the side of my face on my shoulder. I feel like I’ve still got drool on my cheek.
Wesley crosses the foyer and lifts a hand to turn my face to the side, like he’s checking for damage. “Are you all right? What happened?”
“I’m fine.” I shrug off his concern, though I grab the bottom of his shirt so he won’t go anywhere. I feel a lot less like I’m gonna piss my pantaloons in front of Dimitri with Wesley bolstering me.
Dimitri gives us space, turning and laying a hand on the Great Dane’s head. The picture it paints is genuinely surprising—next to each other and from further away, they almost look like a regular-sized man and his regular-sized dog.
“You got a dog? When did you get a dog?” Wesley demands, rubbing his temples.
“Recently. Wesley, this is Small Dog.” At Wesley’s look of slack-jawed astonishment, Dimitri’s chest puffs out. “It is funny because it is not true. He is quite large,” he explains needlessly.
My eyes widen, and I turn to Wesley to gauge his reaction. Okay, this guycannotbe for real.
But Wesley is just lifting a brow at the dog in disbelief. “Nicole let you name him that?”
“She hasn’t yet. We’re putting it to a vote. My entry was Doobie Scoo,” says another newcomer.
When he steps into the foyer, my breath whooshes out. This guy is warm where the Russian is cold. Tan skin, smiling eyes, tawny hair flopping casually. Even though he’s shorter than Dimitri, he’s still way too fuckin’ tall, if you ask me. But his smile seems permanently affixed, and it’s so damn charming on his handsome face that I nearly swoon before I remember myself.
“Fuuuck me,” I breathe in, swallowing my drool. With this many inches of raw masculinity on all sides, I think I just got pregnant. “What’s a girl gotta do to get spat on around here? Should I fry some bacon?”
Wesley pinches my ass, and I start laughing. I know it’s not nice to tease him like that, but I couldn’t help myself. It’s been a series of very long days, and I think I’m starting to get loopy.
“I’m Mac,” the hot guy says.
“I’m Madison. And this is Some Bills,” I gesture to the carrier, glancing up at Dimitri. “It’s funny because itistrue.”
There’s a beat, and then Dimitri lets out a loud bark that I only realize is a laugh when his lips settle into a twisted half smile. “Because pets are expensive and do not create value! I agree. That is a good name. Very clever.”
Heisfor real. Okay. Good to know. This could be a lot of fun.
“Is she here?!” someone calls from behind Mac.
The patter of bare feet against polished stone precedes a woman into the foyer. A few more measured steps behind her is another woman.
It’s a foyer party, apparently.
They’re both gorgeous—plus size baddies that make me feel so comfortable in my skin in this weird, unfamiliar, austere place that I’m instantly nervous because I want them to like me so badly. One is pale, with bright blue eyes and a round face that’s open and friendly. She’s got food all over her apron. The other is a tall, bronze goddess with wild golden curls haloing her head like a crown. No food on her.
Dios, is all they do in this house have giant orgies? I mean, I’m not opposed, but you also couldn’t pay me to go near Dimitri’s anaconda. He’d split me in half.
“Hi!” the one with the apron says, crossing the distance. “I’m Eleanor.”
“Nicole,” the goddess waves, going to Dimitri’s side. She leans down to pet Small Dog on the head, and he gives her an adoring look that somehow echoes the one on Dimitri’s face.
“Madison,” I say, taking Eleanor’s hand as she extends it.
Jesus Christ, is there something in the water here? Every single person standing in this room is somewhere near or over six feet tall—I can’t tell exactly, because it’s hard to estimate from way down here. I feel like I’m about to be sent to the kid’s table.
“This is probably weird for you,” Eleanor says with a friendly, understanding smile. “But we’ve been waiting for you to get home. To meet you.”
“Weird is…” I glance at Wesley, who’s watching our exchange with a hint of a smile, “not the word I’d use, but that about covers it.”
Eleanor chuckles, then cocks her head to the side, taking in my hair. “You know, you look kind of familiar.”
