“What are you smiling about?” His eyes narrow. “That looks like your evil, plotting smile.”
I grin wider. “Nothing, nothing at all.”
“You’re such a brat.” He tugs me toward the house. “Do you mind if I come inside for a few minutes? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
I should resist, tell him he can talk about it out here. If we go inside, there’s a high chance we’ll start fucking around. And as fun as that is, I need to be strong. I need to guard my heart.
“Danica?” He recaptures my attention. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, fine. But Troy’s coming, too.”
“Of course.” Edmund spares a brief glance for his friend.
Something’s off between the two of them. A new tension that didn’t used to exist. Is it self-absorbed to guess I’m the cause? Probably. The tension could be caused by anything, not just me.
I unlock the door. Troy is immediately in bodyguard mode, checking the room for threats. All he’ll find is Cackle, who trots right up to say hello.
“Meet Cackle,” I say. “The most formidable assassin on the west coast.”
“Terrifying,” Edmund says with a mock shudder, but he bends to give Cackle ear scratches.
“Attack,” I whisper under my breath.
Cackle purrs and rubs against Edmund’s legs, the traitor. He returns to Troy to give him the same treatment.
It’s official. I have no allies.
“Well?” I face Edmund. “Other than stealing my cat, what did you want to discuss?”
“Your move-in date.”
I…can’t have heard that correctly. “Sorry, my what?”
“It’s time for you to move to my penthouse. Obviously, not tonight or anything, but I thought we could figure out logistics. I’ve already looked up movers, and if you want to start deciding which furniture you want to bring with you, we can discuss where it might go.”
To his credit, he doesn’t wrinkle his nose in distaste at the thought of my college-student-chic belongings crammed into his fancy-ass apartment.
But. “I am absolutely not moving in with you, Edmund.”
His lips don’t curve in a smile, but his eyes are shining. Motherfucker is enjoying this conflict. “Danica. It would be better for us.”
“Better for you to control me, you mean.”
He has the audacity to look hurt. “No. Better for us to get to know each other. But if we’re honest…I think you wouldn’t mind the control.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s my hope, princess.” He takes a step toward me.
Dammit, he’s already turning me on, and he’s not even trying, is he? What is this spell he casts on me? He’s a maniac magician with a magic penis, and I hate him for it.
He takes another step. His gaze flicks to Troy, who joins in the pursuit. I can see how they’re pushing me, together, in some kind of slow-motion sexy chase.
I clear my throat, then weave through them and past the coffee table toward the kitchen. “Who wants a beer? Water? Coffee? Tea?”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” Troy says.
“I’ll have a beer, if you don’t mind.” Edmund follows me to the kitchen. “Let me help.”
