He gives me a lopsided grin. “Iampretty charming.”
“You’re something.” But I smile back despite myself.
Brady glances at the door. “But that?—”
“How long did you know Elizabeth before you knew she was the one? Pretty sure I know Liev better than you knew her. I’ve been living with him for the last two weeks.”
“Calling me a hypocrite?”
“Yeah.”
He heaves a sigh and steps closer. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“And?” I lift my eyebrows at him.
“I’ll be nice to the overgrown fucker,” Brady grumbles.
“Good.” My shoulders finally relax. “He loves me, Brady, and I love him. He’s not who you think he is.”
Brady studies my face for a long moment, then lets out a long breath and pulls me into a tight hug. “If you love him, he can’t be all bad, I guess.”
“I mean I love you, so clearly my judgment is flawed—Ow!” I yelp when he pinches my side.
The door slams open against the wall, and I laugh at my husband’s thunderous expression. “Just sibling shit, all good here.”
Liev glares at Brady but says nothing. He grabs my bag.
Brady hugs me again, whispering in my ear. “Okay, that got a couple brownie points from me.”
“Why are men so dumb?”
“It’s the Y-chromosome,” Elizabeth calls from the other room. “Scientifically proven.”
They are still bickering as we lock the apartment door and head for the elevators.
36
LIEV
I stand at the island, watching Sera wander the kitchen.
To me, this has always been just a house. The realtor rattled on about how the gray stone accents on the beige stucco and the tall, arched windows along the front screamed “French Country elegance.” All I cared about was that it was a solid investment and sat in the same gated, guarded neighborhood as Alex. And now that Sera will be living here, I care about the second gate at the end of the long driveway.
But now, watching Sera tip her head back to study the dark exposed beams in the kitchen, the fading sunlight through the windows catching her hair, I’m glad I bought it. I like that it isn’t the heavy, dark wood and oppressive formality of the house I grew up in.
She trails a fingertip along the faint gold veining in the massive marble island, eyes bright with wonder. “This kitchen is ridiculous.”
The way she says it, I know it’s a compliment.
“Just how rich are you?”
I snort. “I think you mean how rich arewe?”
Her eyes round, and then she flashes me a sneaky little smile. “Good point. Silly man. No prenup.”
I clutch my chest in mock dismay. “Oh, no. She married me for my money and not my giant cock. I’m devastated.”
“Asshole,” she mutters, but I hear the laughter in it. She pulls open one of the gleaming stainless-steel double ovens—never once turned on—and peers inside, then drifts to the refrigerator. Its barren shelves stare back at her.
