Page 90

“Still.” I hold her gaze. “The offer stands.”

“Noted,” she says, voice clipped.

Not wanting to press her on it anymore, I steer the conversation back to her sister. “So you want to buy her a house? What’s wrong with where she’s at now?”

“Nothing, I guess,” she says, looking at the margarita glass she’s twirling between her fingers. “It’s just small. The kids are getting bigger, and they deserve to have more space. Greer deserves to have her own bathroom and not to have to schedule out shower times so everyone has enough hot water.”

I nod, as if I can relate to what she’s saying. Even growing up in a house with four brothers, I always had my own space. Showers were never an issue, even in our teenage years…

“That’s really nice of you,” I say. “To want to take care of them, I mean.”

“Somebody needs to help her,” she says, eyes unfocused as she stares off into the distance. There’s a hitch in her breath, and I notice a hint of guilt in her tone when she says, “She’s working so hard to further her career, and has virtually no time for herself. I want to help her any way that I can.”

“Sounds like you and I have more in common than I realized.”

“Yeah. I guess we do…”

“All right, I’m back…” Greer’s words trail off as she glances between us. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No. Not at all,” Kira says, her overly excited voice sounding strained.

With this new information added to my Kira-file, I stand from the lounge chair. “I’m going to go start setting up the fireworks. You two relax and enjoy the show.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Kira

All in all, today was a success. Mostly due to Roman—and surprisingly Guy—keeping the kids occupied all day.

The kids had a blast. Before today, I didn’t think Evie had a cap on her energy levels. I just thought she generated more like an engine, but it seems like the guys really know how to wear a girl out. She was blissfully conked out in the back seat as soon as her seat belt was buckled. I know Greer and Sasha will be grateful for the quiet ride home.

Hell, even Matilda wore herself out. She scratched on the door to go inside and put herself to bed before we even started the fireworks. Probably for the best.

Next time Greer needs a babysitter, at least we know who to call. Not that she’d ever ask for help. That woman is too damn stubborn. I’m her sister for Christ’s sake, and I didn’t realize half the shit she was dealing with until I saw it with my own eyes. I seriously doubt she’d ask someone else for help—especially a man.

I guess we both have trust issues that we need to unpack.

Why is it so much easier to spot someone else’s weaknesses? Even when the very same ones are staring you in the face in the mirror every morning?

I’d say it was genetic, but considering our mother is far from untrusting when it comes to men, it’s likely more of a product of our upbringing than an inherited trait.

You know what they say, hot girls have trauma.

Okay, so maybe I just made that up, but it definitely should be a saying.

The universe definitely has a sense of humor. That much I’m certain of. How else would I find myself casually intertwined with a good guy who seems to get off on worshipping me?

It’s like I keep watching him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to finally disappoint me somehow. But, somehow, he just keeps getting better.

Frankly, it’s beginning to piss me off.

Like planning the best summer pool party and playing with the kids so I could have some much-needed uninterrupted sister time. Being charming and thoughtful all day. Hand-delivering margaritas and practically waiting on us hand and foot…

I’ve stayed at my fair share of five-star resorts, and somehow, the billionaire sex-god, Roman Kingsley, has managed to raise the bar.

If I wasn’t attracted to him before, then today’s performance sealed the deal.

What is wrong with me that I find his acts of service so goddamn sexy? Now, that’s what I should be exploring in therapy.