That too.
13
Kane
What in the actual fuck?
I glance around my room as Daniil and a couple of other guys pile boxes and boxes of shit into my master bedroom and bathroom.
“She only had a bedroom and bathroom at her brother’s place. How the hell does she even have this much stuff?”
Daniil shrugs. “The woman is a shopper, and she had two rooms at her brother’s. One for her to sleep in and the other for her wardrobe. Wait until you see all her makeup and shit.”
“She needs to find something else to do with her time,” I mutter as I walk out of my room so they can finish bringing in her boxes.
“Oh, you’re home,” Brielle says, sauntering into the house. “Have they finished bringing my stuff in?”
“No, it will probably take them the entire day with all the shit you have. You know you have a problem, right?”
“If you don’t like it, I can live elsewhere.” She shrugs smugly.
Speaking of which …
“I thought you wanted your own room, but Daniil just spent an hour moving all your stuff from the guest room to the master.”
“Changed my mind. Your closet is bigger”—she steps into my space and runs her hands along my biceps—“and your bathroom is nice. Feel free to move to the guest roomif you wish.”
Ahh, so this is the game she’s playing. Torture me in my own home until I’ve had enough and I regret my decision to force her to marry me. What she doesn’t realize is that I lived with my mom for the past several years since my father was killed, and since she had to keep a low profile, she resorted to online shopping, filling the house up with too much random shit.
“I’m good,” I tell her. “Since we didn’t make it to dinner last night, I’ve rescheduled for brunch this afternoon, and I’d appreciate you accompanying me.”
“Are you asking or demanding?” she asks.
“Depends on what your answer is.”
She sighs. “Whatever. I don’t have anything else going on anyway. I already got my workout in.”
I drag my gaze from her face down her body and notice she’s still in her workout attire—a tiny light-blue sports bra that shows off the swell of her tits and matching leggings that wrap around her thighs and ass like cling wrap. The woman is fucking gorgeous, but more than that, she’s in shape.
“How often do you work out?”
“Every day.”
“Damn, that’s commitment.”
“I have nothing else to do.” She shrugs. “Might as well do something that benefits my health.”
That’s the second time she’s insinuated that she’s bored.
“Didn’t you go to college?”
Her shoulders tense. “Yeah. So?”
“Did you graduate?”
I should know this, but her education wasn’t really a priority when I was doing my research on the Antonov family.
“Yes,” she spits. “With a degree in accounting, and I got my MBA online as well while I was in Russia. I also took and passed the CPA exam when I returned to the States. Any other questions?”
