My head spins. “What did you tell them exactly?”
Evan moves to the couch arm that Callum vacated. “That you’re Ben’s little sister. That we’ve known you since we were kids. That we ran into you a few months ago and reconnected, and things developed fast.”
“They bought that?”
Callum drinks his water. “Why wouldn’t they? It’s basically true.”
“Except for the part where we’re actually married,” I remind them.
Evan winks at me. “But that’s our little secret.”
“So, we will have to make our relationship believable, even at home.” I’m trying to process this new information. “Your staff will be here every day?”
“Yes,” Silas confirms. “We should have prepared you for that. Is that a problem?”
I think about my old apartment. Quiet. Empty. Mine. This is the opposite of that.
“No. Not a problem.”
Evan pats the couch beside him. “Come sit. You look ready to bolt.”
I cross the room and perch on the edge of the cushion. He moves from the couch arm and sits beside me, easy and relaxed, one arm draped along the back of the couch behind my shoulders.
Not touching me. But close.
Callum wanders over and joins us.
Silas stays standing. “We’ll show you around. Your room. The kitchen. Gym. Pool.”
“Pool?”
“Rooftop,” Evan supplies. “You’ll love it. It’s heated, so we can use it year-round. I hope you brought your swimsuit.”
Silas pulls his phone from his pocket. “That reminds me, I need your sizes. Everything. Clothes, shoes, dress size, swimsuit size.”
I blink. “Why?”
“Because you’ll need a wardrobe.” He is typing on his phone, not making eye contact with me. “We have events coming up. Dinners. Galas. You need the right clothes.”
“I have clothes.”
Callum snorts. “No offense, Red, but you’ll probably need different clothes.”
“He’s right,” Evan adds gently. “These events have dress codes. You will need designer labels. It’s a whole thing.”
Silas finally glances up from his phone. “Sizes?”
I don’t fight it and give him the information he needs.
He types something into his phone. “I’m having things sent over. You’ll try them on, keep what works, and send back what doesn’t.”
“Thank you,” I say. “That’s?—”
“Non-negotiable.” Silas pockets his phone. “This has to look real. That means you need to look like you belong with us.”
The words sting, even though they’re practical.
Evan’s hand drops to my shoulder. “He didn’t mean it like that.”
