“We call the basement the dungeon,” Kayla explains casually. “Rule two! There are security cameras almosteverywherebut the roof, I think. So if you fuck in a hallway, that’s blackmail Daewilldefinitely use against you.”
Then she turns to me.
“Nil, since you’re with Stan now, you can share his room.”
My apparent better half launches himself at me, rocking the car. I catch him, hiding my smile against his hair.
“And Em,” Kayla continues, “you get the best guest room we’ve got. Closest to the kitchen. The downside is the bathroom connects your room to theirs.”
Stan pulls back from me, grinning wide. “That’s abonus, not a downside.”
She ignores him to present the view from the window. “Well, here we are! Home sweet heavily fortified home.”
***
Kayla herds Stan toward the front doors the second the limo rolls to a stop. Whatever she’s muttering at him makes him argue back under his breath, until they step through the tall doors and into the grand entrance space.
Looking up, I take it in. And boy, there is so much damn space for a place. This mansion must be more massive from the outside.
I follow, staying close to Em, and letting my eyes take everything in. The space is big without feeling empty. Stone floors warmed by rugs. Old walls reinforced with sparkling glass. The place carries history, but it feels lived in too.
Em does the same thing. She studies the ceilings, the staircases, the light filtering through the windows. Her fingers tense around the blanket at her shoulders, then relax. She takes a breath and lets it out slow.
Stan tears free from Kayla a second later, skidding across the stone with dramatic offense written all over his face. He looks pouty before a smirk spreads his lips wide. I know that look. It means trouble.
Walking the other way, Kayla waves her hand at us. She flashes asmile over her shoulder that tells me whatever they were whispering about is far from over. Then she disappears down a long hall.
Stan pivots and starts walking backwards, arms spread wide. “I’ve been tasked to be the tour guide,” he says with that grin of his. “Welcome to the aesthetic marriage of East Coast money and old Italian crime family tradition. Try not to get murdered before dinner.”
I bite my lip to stop a laugh. He sees it anyway and smiles at me before leading us through the halls. High ceilings and carved stone give way to wood floors and glass walls. Some spaces are finished and polished. Others are half torn apart, marked with yellow warning tape.
“West wing,” Stan says, pointing at the taped-up doors. “Kaye’s work in progress. Nurseries, rec rooms, more guest rooms. I stopped listening after she banned sex swings from the ceiling beams.”
Em blinks, eyes wide. I chuckle through my chest, trailing after her. When she moves, I move with her, matching her pace. She walks slower than usual, taking in details like she’s committing them to memory. I let the distance between us stay easy, something she can close or widen on her own terms. When she walks closer to me, I ignore the grip in my chest.
Stan stretches his arms out some more, spinning as he walks. “Don’t worry, babe, we can attach one in our room,” he says, eyeing me, then Em. “They’ll never know. You’d keep our dirty little sex swing secret, right, doc?”
Em nods silently, almost smiling at Stan’s ridiculous antics. But I’m relieved when I watch her shoulders lower while we keep walking down this hall and into the other side of the house.
“East wing,” Stan points out. “Where people pretend they sleep but mostly don’t.”
He stops at the first door. “This is Damon andKaye’s bedroom. Biggest bedroom in the house. Tragically thin walls.”
Em’s eyes shine behind her glasses when she smiles a bit more. I snort before I can stop myself. Stan hears it and beams.
“You’re lucky,” he tells Em. “Your room’sallthe way at the other end of the hall, unless listening to incredibly enthusiastic marital bonding is your thing.”
She angles her head up to Stan. “Is it really that audible?”
Stan grins, unabashed. “If you’re curious, our room’s right beside yours, so you’ll hear plenty of—”
I catch his wrist, forcing him to move. He laughs as his fingers close around mine.
The next door gets a dramatic pause. “And here,” Stan says, tapping it with one knuckle, “is Sterling and Elle’s room.”
The sound of my sister’s name gets my attention in an instant.
“I’m convinced Sterling has some sort of reward system goin’ in there,” Stan muses. “Every dozen takedowns of criminal syndicates in town, he gets a free-for-all night with his wife.”
