“They had a warrant?”
I nod. “Kovu took it to Crew to look over. You’ll probably get a call this morning after he’s had a chance to speak to his lawyers.”
He sighs, dropping his head into his hands.
“We knew he would pull shit like this.”
“I thought it would take longer for him to ramp up. We haven’t heard shit from him since we moved Hannah in here.”
I nod. He’s right. We expected consequences for taking something, or someone, that Jeffrey Malone could use for his own benefit, but he’s clearly not fucking around.
“What do you want to do?”
He’s quiet for a moment before pushing himself to his feet. “Nothing yet. Let’s see what he does next before we start retaliating.”
I want to argue, to insist we pull one of the cards we have tucked away, but he’s right. We need to let him think he’s winning so he doesn’t see what we have planned coming.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
HANNAH
“What the fuck, Rowan?” I snap as I burst into his office.
He glances up at me over the top of his laptop. Something I didn’t know until I moved in here was that, despite already being a walking, talking wet dream, Rowan also wears slutty little glasses.
“Hannah,” he greets, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “What can I help you with?”
“The clothes in my closet. Where did they come from?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been collecting them for a while.”
“You’ve been collecting them?” I repeat, making sure I heard him correctly, and I haven’t suffered some kind of head injury between the bedroom and his office.
He nods. “They’ve been there since before you moved in. I’m surprised you’re only just finding them now.”
“I’ve been living out of boxes the movers dropped off last week.”
To distract myself from the fact that I’ve somehow found myself living with my ex-stepfather and his son, I’ve beenthrowing myself into my work more than usual and haven’t bothered starting the process of unpacking.
Not to mention, I’m still not convinced this is real. At any moment, they’re going to rip the rug out from under me, or I’m going to wake up from this dream back in my lonely apartment, visiting the club a couple of times a week just to feel some kind of connection.
He nods in understanding.
“So…the clothes?”
“What about them?”
I stare at him incredulously, as if the closet full of designer labels and items that are exactly my size and style isn’t sitting upstairs.
“Why did you buy them? Who were they for? Can we return them?”
Sighing, he pushes himself to his feet and rounds the desk before perching on the edge in front of me. “They’re yours. I bought them because I would give you the world if I could, but clothes are a consolation prize. And no, we cannot return them. They’re gifts.”
“But…but…it’s too much!”
He shakes his head slowly. “No, Hannah. When it comes to you, it will never be enough. I’ll never be able to repay you for what you give Asher and me, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying.”
I open my mouth to respond but quickly snap it shut again. I could have spent the rest of the day imagining what he was going to say, and I wouldn’t have come close to that.
