I glance out the window again. A car pulls up and I feel a rush of adrenaline.
“There is no plan at the moment, honestly, and I’ve got Candi under control.”
“How?” Marco’s eyes narrow. “Did you find out something else about her? Blackmail?”
“Nothing like that,” I answer distractedly as I stare out the window.
“Then what?”
My brother appears at my side, watching now, too. The car door opens and Candi gets out, casually dressed in yoga pants and a sweater. My groin twitches as she bends over to grab her purse and provides me with a luscious view of her perfect, round ass.
“I fucked her,” I tell him, pouring another whiskey. “Have a drink. She’s moving in.”
“What?!”
I slide him the glass and nod to the window. Marco looks closer now, his brows shooting up as one of our house staff comes outside and begins unloading Candi’s suitcases from her trunk. We sip our drinks in silence, watching as she reaches inside the car to grab something.
“That’s what all the fuss in your room was about just now?” Marco asks.
“Took you long enough. I swear, you’re fucking clueless sometimes.”
“Looks like she brought a friend,” Marco says. He turns amused eyes on me.
I look again.
At first, I think she’s holding a stuffed teddy bear tenderly in her arms. But then I realize the huge, long-haired white poof in the crook of her arm is a cat.
Marco grins, bringing his glass to his lips. “Meow,” he says around a drink.
Tossing back the rest of my drink, I turn away from the window.
Fuck.
6
CANDI
“What the hell is that thing?”
Armani points at my cat as he storms down the gravel driveway toward me.
I’d played out in my mind how he might greet me when I arrived. Would we hug, or formally shake hands? Stand there and stare awkwardly at each other? But as my new temporary boyfriend stops a few feet away and puts his hands on his hips, it’s clear he’s displeased. I never considered that he might not be a cat person.
Forcing a smile to hide my anxiety, I approach Armani while bouncing my furbaby in my arms. “This is Mr. Sprinkles. I promise, he’s a very good roommate. He’s a senior kit-izen.”
I hold the cat out toward him. Mr. Sprinkles meows unhappily.
Armani takes a step back. “You never said you had a cat.”
Ah, he’s using his standard irritated voice on me. So different from the tone he used to woo me on the yacht a few nights ago. Good thing I know a little about this man.
He’s moody when he gets thrown a curveball. Bristles at anything that messes with his compulsive need for control. He’s been this way since the day I met him. I can handle it.
“You never asked.” I cuddle Mr. Sprinkles protectively against me and he starts to purr.
With a scowl, Armani says, “I don’t do pets. It’s nonnegotiable.”
“Mm. Okay.” Lifting my chin, I turn back toward the car. “Then I don’t live here.”
