Finally, he smiled.
“Of course. Your rooms are upstairs.”
Rooms.
Plural.
I knew better than to relax.
A woman in black slacks appeared near the hall with our bags. New house staff. I didn’t know her name, which made me feel even more like a guest in a house where half my blood lived.
“Second floor,” Richard said. “Drew, your old room. Isa, blue guest suite.”
Blue guest suite.
Across from Beckett’s room.
Absolutely fucking not.
I looked at my father.
He knew.
I saw it in the slight lift of his brows.
The tiny challenge.
Be reasonable, Drew.
Be civilized.
Don’t embarrass yourself in front of the quality girl.
Isa must have felt me go rigid because she squeezed my wrist again.
“It’s fine,” she said softly.
“No, it’s not.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
I lowered my voice.
“You’re staying with me.”
Something flickered across her face.
Surprise first.
Then caution.
Then, because she was Isa Calloway and born with enough pride to bankrupt a kingdom, irritation.
“I can sleep in a guest room, Drew.”
“I know you can.”
“Then why are you saying it like I need guarding?”
