This man was actual royalty. His bloodline probably had a family crest, a Wikipedia page, and tons of portraits in museums. Men like Rin didn't sweep. They had people who swept, and those people had people who supervised the sweeping, and those people had people who quality-checked the supervision.
Yet here Rin was.
Broom in hand.
While he continued to work, I tilted my head and looked at his face.
Rin's face was the kind of face that had never known struggle.
There were no bumps, blemishes, not even a single line that suggested he'd ever frowned hard enough to leave a mark.
In fact. . .there was absolutely no way this man washed his own face.
Someone did it for him.
Some poor woman—or even a team of women—probably stood over him every damn night with a hot towel and a seven-step routine involving serums I couldn't pronounce and creams that cost more than my rent.
And his skin said that it had been maintained by professionals since birth.
I sighed.
Alright. I’m just jealous that he’s so well-kept. I’m going to leave him alone.
That still didn’t stop me from monitoring his movements around Deja.
Once everything was in the dustpan, he looked at Deja. “Where do you want me to put the hair?"
And I had to admit that Rin’s voice was pretty damn sexy.
But there was this pondering on my end where I wondered if his voice was actually that sexy or was it because he barely spoke.
It could have been that when a man rationed his words, anytime one heard him speak. . .it felt like a reward. Like you'd earned it. Like he'd looked around the room and decidedyouwere the one worth spending a sentence on.
Deja must have felt it too, because she smirked before she answered and pointed to a plastic bag she'd set off to the side. "Put the hair over there. I have to burn it."
"My men will take care of that part."
More words from Rin. This is some sort of record.
I looked at Deja already knowing what she was going to say.
"Naw. Your men can’t do it." She held up a hand. "I do it myself."
Rin didn't argue. He placed the hair in the bag carefully and snapped his fingers.
The men rushed to him.
He handed it to them.
They took it and headed for the door.
Deja blinked and placed her hand on her hip. "Now Ijustsaid I’ve got it."
He stared at her. "It's taken care of."
"It has to be burned down to ashes."
"We're good at burning things here." The corner of his mouth didn't quite move, but something behind his eyes did. "Don't worry."
