“Don’t be absurd. I have a seven-bedroom house. You could have a room for each of your boxes.”
“I’m not rooming with a man I don’t know.” I fold my arms over my chest.
We stare each other down, a line being drawn between us.
Would living with Huxley be easier? Sure, probably, but I don’t know the guy. What insane person would just move in with a complete stranger?
Not me.
And my sister would never allow it.
“You know, it might not be a bad idea,” Kelsey says.
Excuse me while I pick my jaw up off the ground.
Excuse me?
Not a bad idea?
“Kelsey,” I whisper in shock. “What on earth? You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am.” She gestures to the boxes. “But one weekend of this and we’re going to hate each other. And look at him, he seems nice enough.”
“Nice enough?” I ask, completely floored. “Is that all the qualifications you need? Nice enough?”
“And he smells heavenly, and we know who he is, so if he tries to do anything, we can report him, and that would ruin his reputation. It’s obvious he’s going to great lengths to avoid that.”
There’s some truth to that, but still . . .
“What am I supposed to do—just live at this guy’s mansion?”
Kelsey smirks. “Uh, yeah. Seems like a dream to me.”
Leaning toward Kelsey, I whisper, “I don’t even like him.”
Whispering back, she says, “He can hear you.”
“You don’t have to like me to do business with me. Remember, this is nothing but a business transaction. The sooner you start thinking of it that way, the easier it will be to take the emotion out of it.”
I scowl at Huxley, who looks far too casual, rocking on his heels, hands in his pockets.
“He’s right,” Kelsey says. When I don’t respond, she continues, “What about this? Try it for a week, and then if you want to come back, my studio apartment is open to you, pillow bed and all.”
“You’re serious? You don’t want me to stay?”
“He’s not going to hurt you,” Kelsey says.
“That’s what you say now, but tomorrow in the news, missing-sister reports circulate the Interweb.”
“You’re being ridiculous. We know everything about him. He tries one thing, and his reputation is ruined. Trust me, I’m good at reading people. He’s not stupid.”
I can’t believe I’m even considering this, but when I look between the two of them, I feel myself leaning further and further toward a yes. Not because of the mansion aspect, but because I don’t want Kelsey to hate me, and I know after a few days in this tiny apartment, she very well might disown me. Living here is one thing, but working and living here in this apartment is a whole other ball game.
Sighing, I say, “Fine, but I request the farthest room away from yours, no funny business.” I point my finger at him.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says casually before going to the bed, where he shuffles the dress boxes. Kelsey snorts and covers her mouth while I steam.
“Well, don’t you . . . flatter yourself either,” I say.
“Ooo, burn,” Kelsey says mockingly. “You really got him with that one.”
I rub my temples. “Kelsey, I would appreciate it if you were on my side.”
“I am, that’s why I’m encouraging you to try harder with your comebacks. Think before you react, hit him back where it hurts. You know, something like . . . your, uh, hair . . . well, no, that’s nice. Maybe, that suit . . . hmm, it’s impeccably tailored. Wait, that’s a compliment. Oh, I know, your jaw is so tight . . . it’s actually quite symmetrical. His whole face, very symmetrical. Just an absolute specimen.”
“Wow.” I slow clap. “Thanks, Kelsey, super-helpful insults.”
Huxley looks between the two of us. “Are we done with the pitiful attempts at comebacks?”
“You’re pitiful,” I shoot back and then look to Kelsey for approval. She gives me a solid thumbs up and a head nod. Ha, got him good.
His jaw ticks. “I need you to try on outfits.”
“You could ask in a nicer tone.”
“This is business. I’m not trying to win you over or woo you. I’m your boss in this moment, therefore, you respond to my commands.”
Anger bubbles up inside me, while Kelsey fans her face.
“Wow, should she call you Daddy after that domineering speech?”
“Kelsey, for the love of God.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Could you please keep it in your pants?”
There’s another knock at the door, and she says, “Now, that must be the food, unless you have someone waiting for me behind that door.” She wiggles her eyebrows and then straightens. “Man, I really do need to keep it in my pants.” She goes to the door, accepts the food, and then brings it to her galley kitchen.
Huxley flips open the boxes and holds up a beautiful, green maxi dress with an empire waist and flowy dolman sleeves. The plunging neckline is lower than what I’d normally wear, but the fabric looks luscious, so, you know . . . I’ll try it on.
“Put this on. I want to see you in it.”
I stand from my chair, snag the dress from him, and say, “You know, a please wouldn’t hurt you.”
When I’m in the bathroom, I quickly slip out of my clothes—which I just kick to the side, Kelsey will be horrified—and then put on the dress, letting the smooth fabric fall over my curves.
“Wow,” I whisper, while taking in the dress in the mirror. It fits like a glove, it accentuates my waist, and my boobs look spectacular. I guess money really can buy everything, because I’ve never been able to buy this kind of silhouette before.
Time to show the “boss.”
I open the door and walk out of the bathroom, feeling awkward. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I hold them demurely in front of me. “Is this what you were looking for, master?” I ask him.
His facial expression doesn’t change, nor does he show a flicker of appreciation. In a stern voice, he says, “It’ll do for tonight.”
Might as well be the farmer from Babe. Pat me on the head and say, “That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.”
Sheesh.
At least he’s setting expectations right now. This is business. This isn’t some sort of fairy tale where he plucks me from rags and turns me into a princess. Not that I want something like that. I truly want to earn my way through this life, but, you know, a little decency or acknowledgement of my usually lacking cleavage would be nice.
“These other dresses are for different occasions. There are notes in the boxes on when to wear them and how, as well as which shoes to pair with them, but now that you’re going to be living with me, I’ll be able to give final approval before you walk out of the house.”
“Final approval?” I ask. “You realize this is my body, right?”
“Very much aware that’s your body. But you also signed a contract that stated I get final approval of all outfits before we attend a business event.”
“I thought that was just, you know, semantics.” I wave my hand about.
“Nothing about a contract is just semantics,” he shoots at me. “That’s something you should learn right away, especially if you’re going to be working within the admin side of your sister’s business. It would behoove you to become quite familiar with legal jargon.”
“I am familiar,” I shoot back. “Don’t assume I know nothing.”
“When you pass off our contract as semantics, I’m going to assume you need to be educated, especially when taking on your sibling’s business that they’ve built from the ground up. You don’t fuck around with that.”
“I’m not fucking around with it.”
“You need to take it seriously,” he says in that commanding voice.
“I am taking it seriously.”