“Tell me.”
“No, thank you.”
His jaw clenches as he stands in front of me. “Tell me.”
Sighing with resignation, I nod. “It was my mom’s. It’s the only important thing in this place.”
Specter nods, and the look in his eyes—of protection, care, understanding—makes my stomach flip. See, this is why I didn’t want to get to know him. I had a feeling he would unnerve me, and so far, I’ve been right.
He bends and unplugs the turntable. “Easy enough to bring with us.”
“I… I don’t want to impose.”
“I want you to. I want all your things at my house, in my room. I want your products all over my bathroom counter, your clothes draped on my chairs, your scent all over my sheets. Impose on me, Cashmere. Please.”
I don’t know what to say, so I whisper “Thank you” and grab a few of my favorite records.
I walk to the door, but Specter’s hand on my arm stops me. “Do you have everything you’ll need for a while?”
Nodding, I consider his question. “My stage costumes are at work. I’m good.”
He winks without saying another else.
Based on that look, I’m pretty sure I won’t be sleeping here ever again.
CHAPTER 13
Specter
“I have an idea.”Cashmere is sitting cross-legged on my bed, his makeup spread out around him on a towel. He’s holding a small mirror in one hand and a sponge in the other, covering the bruise on his face. “You’re going to hate it though.”
I nod, glancing at him from my position on the love seat. “I’m listening.”
“If we want to find my attacker, I should probably keep up my routine. Or at least appear to.”
I turn my head sharply in his direction. “What?”
“If he can’t find me, then we can’t find him, right?”
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m putting you out there as bait.”
“What’s your plan, then?” He directs his sultry gaze at me, damn near melting my insides.
“I’m working on one.”
“Okay, maybe not my apartment, because no thank you, but I have to work.”
“I can cover your finances for now.”
He narrows his pretty eyes. “First of all, we’ve been over this. You don’townme. Under no circumstances am I going to be your kept toy.”
“Cashmere—”
“No. Secondly, it’s not about the money.”
He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t have to. I can see his reasoning all over his face. The performance matters to him.
“Okay.”
