The voice in the back of my head is right. I shouldn’t get caught up in his sweet words, as heartwarming as they are.
“Okay, time to show me to my room,” I urge, gently shooing him back toward the foyer and the staircase.
I do my best not to stare at his ass as he leads us upstairs, but I’m only human, anddamnhe has a nice one. To distract myself, I peruse the photos hanging on the wall as we pass them. It’s mostly an array of him and his family over the years, with a couple of friends thrown in. I stop when I spot a vaguely familiar face, still recognizable even though she’s a few years younger in this snap than the one I’ve already seen.
I tap Thomas’s back, then point to a photo of the smilingblonde when he stops and glances at me. “Is this Miss She’s Not My Type?”
His eyes follow my finger, lips pursing slightly. “That’s the one.”
“She’s beautiful.” I don’t say it because I feel threatened or inferior to her, but because it’s the truth and I’m not about to deny it. She’s a stunner with big green eyes, a wide toothy smile, and the kind of wavy hair that takes a hell of a lot of hot tools to achieve, even though it looks effortless. Truthfully, she and Thomas would make a gorgeous couple, but knowing that she’s not his type and that he’s never been interested changes the dynamic. “Is she actually in love with you? Because I don’t want to go out of our way to hurt her.”
He stares down at me from his vantage point on a higher step, considering my question. I appreciate that he’s thoughtful about it. Men who only care for and respect the women they’re attracted to are the kind I prefer to stay far away from, and his answer will decide whether I need to pull up that list of divorce lawyers my mother sent over.
“She may think she’s in love with me,” he finally says, and there’s an honest note in his voice that almost reads as sorrowful, “but she only loves the idea of me. What I represent. Not me as an actual person.”
There’s something crushing to that response that resonates in my chest. It’s a combination of my own hurts, my ability to relate, and his pain from being viewed that way. It makes me want to grab his hand and hold tight.
But that’s against my own rules, so I keep my fingers curled at my sides, ignoring the urge.
When I don’t say anything else, Thomas turns and keeps going. The second floor is a soothing space, all soft neutralsand plush cream-colored carpet. He mentioned having several bedrooms, and I’m assuming there are a few in each wing of the house, with the room straight across from the landing acting as an office-slash-library.
“I had your things placed in the east wing’s primary suite. I hope that’s okay.”
I glance down the hallway, then back to him. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“The west wing. I figured you’d want plenty of privacy in case you…” He trails off before clearing his throat, a hint of pink tingeing his cheeks. “In case you have visitors.”
Right, it’s my own get-away-with-cheating rule by another name. I don’t have any plans to utilize it, but I’m not the only one with the option, and I don’t want to hearhispotential visitors either. This benefits us both.
“That’s fine,” I say, pushing away the strangely stomach-turning idea of him with someone else. “You probably won’t want to hear all of my work calls anyway. I’ve been told I get a little passionate when it comes to new macaron flavors for the menu.”
Thomas huffs a laugh. “I think I’d actually like to hear that.”
He can say that now, but he’ll regret it when I’m ranting on the phone at ten p.m., thanks to the time difference between here and America’s East Coast. I’m about to tell him as much when I spot a shadow over his shoulder and almost bolt down the stairs before I realize it’s Maeve coming out of the office.
Thomas is less lucky, letting out a small, horrified sound as his assistant appears at his side.
“JesusChrist,” he breathes out, taking a half step away from her. “How did you get here before us? Weren’t you on a later flight?”
“Witches can teleport,” she answers, so serious that I almost believe her. “And be glad I got here first, because I intercepted Edith on your doorstep earlier.”
The mention of his older sister has the sweet blush on Thomas’s cheeks fading. “What did she want?”
“You and Stella are expected at the Cotswolds house tomorrow afternoon. You’ll be staying a few days with the family.”
“It’s a Tuesday,” he protests. “Doesn’t everyone have jobs to get to?”
“Well, you don’t have anything in your diary until Friday, and the entire world obviously revolves around your schedule, so no.” Maeve’s attention shifts to me. She’s far less snarky when she speaks again. “If there’s work you need to do while you’re away, I can have the house staff set up an office.”
I shake my head. “That won’t be necessary. I’m off for the rest of the week.”
And now I’m glad I am, because meeting Thomas’s family this soon wasnotwhat I was expecting. It sounds like I’m about to be thrown straight into the vipers’ nest.
Maeve nods, then looks back to Thomas. “Be warned, your mum’s new hobby is bartending. She’s apparently getting really into it. Loves a porn star martini these days.”
He grimaces, full-on pained this time, the parliament smile not enough to express his disdain. “I hope I never have to hear her say those words.”
“I’ll keep you in my thoughts.” Maeve claps her hands. “Right, I’m off. Just wanted to make sure you were warned, Thomas, and that you have everything you need, Stella. Did you see all those fancy gadgets he made me order for you? Literally had me call up your people to find out all your favorite—”
