I wander into the kitchen, needing that beer Zanders offered, and when I open the fridge, I can’t help but smile to myself when I find one of the shelves lined with multiple different IPAs. Instinctively, I know the plethora of options is solely for me.
I’m good with any and all, so I pop the top of one and take it with me on my self-guided tour.
Zanders’ penthouse is stunning. Dark wood, concrete, black metal, and low lighting decorate the masculine area. It’s moody, expensive, and intriguing. It’s one of those places you get inspiration from in a magazine or featured on a Pinterest board. Not a single thing is out of order. It’s very much him, and I look entirely out of place.
Passing by the long hallway Zanders ducked down, I turn the opposite way, finding his living room. His couches are large and deep-set, his television is massive, and his pictures are perfectly coordinated in black and white.
The images are mostly him and Maddison’s family, but there is one of him and who I would guess to be his sister. Zanders has mentioned her once, and they look eerily similar. Though, I do notice not a single photo has his dad present. I know they have a rocky history, as he does with his mom, but I guess I didn’t realize his relationship with his father was as lacking as it is in these photographs.
There’s a photo of him and Ella that I can’t help but pick up and admire a little closer. Their relationship melts me every time and was the first thing that made me question if there was more to the notoriously hated defenseman.
“You snooping, sweetheart?” Zanders’ deep voice vibrates through me as my cheeks heat from being caught in the act. He stands behind me, so close that I can feel the warmth of his body before he rests his chin on my shoulder. “That’s one of my favorites.”
“You guys are close, huh?” I keep my focus on the photo in my hands of the adorable wild-haired girl and her uncle.
“She’s my favorite person.”
“More than Maddison?”
“I like her ten times more than her dad.” His tone has sarcasm embedded in it, but I’m not sure that he’s joking.
I replace the frame to its original spot before turning around to face him. My eyes wander his body, noting his casual sweatpants and hoodie. Granted, I can tell they’re expensive as hell, but the only time I’ve seen him this dressed down is when he’s getting ready to sleep during an overnight flight on the airplane.
And my mouth can’t seem to close seeing him so informal and carefree.
“What? Did you expect me to be wearing a three-piece suit in my own home?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
As much as Zanders looks absolutely fuckable in his perfectly tailored suits, he looks adorable in his comfy clothes, and I feel much less intimidated being in his expensive home when he’s as dressed down as I am.
“But you look good like this too.”
A knowing smile lifts on his lips. “Vee, I always look good.”
Not wrong, but no need to tell him that, and thankfully, a knock at the door keeps me from having to respond.
“That should be the food. Or at least some of it.” Zanders heads towards the entryway, expecting me to follow.
“Some of it?” I question, two steps behind him. “And food? What happened to this not being a date?”
Zanders turns to face me, walking backward and wearing his annoyingly cheeky smile. “You only eat when you’re on dates?”
Five knocks later, and Zanders’ poor doorman getting his workout in for the day, deep-dish pizza, Chinese takeout, sushi, burgers and fries, and two burritos cover the dining room table.
“What the hell?” I let out a nervous but confused laugh, looking at the expansive table entirely covered in takeout.
A bit of shyness emanates off Zanders. “I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I kind of got everything.”
My head tilts at his thoughtful gesture. “Everything sounds perfect.”
That shyness shifts to pride before he turns towards the fridge to get two fresh beers. Zanders pulls out the seat at the head of the table for me before he takes the one next to it as we both pile our plates full of all the best takeout in Chicago.
I don’t think I could feel more comfortable sitting next to this man, eating junk food and drinking beers in his stunning penthouse.
“So, I have some questions,” I begin. “Dog questions.”
I don’t, actually. Zanders will be great with Rosie, but I’m still lying to myself about this being a home visit and not a date.
“Shoot,” Zanders mumbles, mouth full.
“She has a place to go when you’re on the road?”
“When we are on the road,” he corrects. “Yes. One of the guys on the team has a dog-sitter they trust, and she’s down to add Rosie.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been going to see her?”
He casually shrugs, looking away from me. “Because I didn’t want to get your hopes up just in case. And like I said, it wasn’t about you.” His eyes dart to mine, soft and truthful. “The donation, though, that was for you.”
I try to fight back my smile, not wanting him to see how much every little thing he does has begun to affect me, but I can’t.
“Thank you for that, by the way. It was ridiculous and over the top, but you have no idea how much that’s going to help.”
His leg nudges mine under the table before he slightly wraps it around, wanting to touch me in some way.
“And you have everything for her ready to go?” I continue.
Who am I kidding? Of course, he does. This man is beyond prepared at all times.
“Yep. The last thing is her collar, but it’s getting delivered tomorrow. Wanna see?” He pulls out his phone and enlarges a photo on the screen, showing me.
“You got her a Louis Vuitton collar with metal spikes on it?”
His brows crease in offense. “Have you met me? Of course, I did.”
“People are going to think she’s intimidating with that on.”
“Good. Let them. We both know she’s sweet, but I’m fine with everyone else thinking she’s a badass.”
I bring my attention back to my plate, muttering under my breath, “You do love giving people the wrong impression, don’t you?”
My eyes dart to his with regret, tension thick in the air between us as we remain silent.
Zanders leans forward, holding my eye contact. “Do you have some more questions? Maybe unrelated to Rosie? Maybe some questions about me? Because I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
I swallow hard as I study his stunning face. His eyes are soft with understanding, and there’s no evidence of judgment or irritation from my previous statement.
“Why do you put on an act? Why don’t you let people see how good you are?”
His eyes avert to his plate. “Well, that’s a big question to start with.”
I cross my legs on my chair and turn it towards him, giving him my full attention. “We have a five-course dinner to get through. We have plenty of time.”