Nolan:Meet me in the lobby.
There he goes, summoning me again.I didn’t want him to think I was waiting by my phone, so played a quick game of Minesweeper before responding.
Now?
Nolan:Now.
When I entered the lobby, I saw Nolan sprawled on the couch by the fireplace. He’d changed into a dark gray suit, but he’d left off the tie, his top shirt button open. Even sleep deprived, he looked powerful and in control. His piercing blue eyes tracked me as I walked toward him. When I sat beside him, I made sure to keep a careful distance between us.
“I noticed my name was left out of the employee housing list,” I said. “Am I to be sleeping in the snowdrifts with the elk and bears?” I wouldn’t put it past him for the way he’d been freezing me out the past week. I thought we’d made a breakthrough with our conversation after Rocco’s cooking class. Then all of a sudden, a switch flipped and the asshole billionaire was back in place where it had remained since. But when I chased him down this morning, I caught the barest glimpse of the real Nolan. I liked him a lot better than this icy bastard.
Nolan’s answer snapped me out of my musings. “You’ll be staying with me,” he said.
My jaw unhinged, anxiety gripping my windpipe. “I’ll be doing no such thing.”
Dark authority stirred in his gaze. “I wasn’t asking.”
“I don’t care. I’m not living with you and yourfiancée. How do you think that will look?”
“I don’t care how it looks,” he growled, gripping the armrest of the couch until the tendons in his hand stood out. “But it wasn’t my choice either. It was Arthur’s idea, and Cressida supports it. She’s already headed off the media with an official story about the flood, our living arrangement, and how you’re my personal assistant or something. So you don’t have to worry about any paparazzi or awkwardness.”
“Oh yes, that eliminates all awkwardness.”
“I’ll have your stuff moved in by this afternoon,” he said, placing a silver key on the couch cushion between us, then standing.
“So that’s it? You pass down your edict and I’m just expected to obey?”
He looked down at me, eyes blazing. “Is the idea of living with me so terrible, Val? Or is it the thought of obeying?”
I gulped as the vision of him, shirtless and glistening in the massage room, flashed before my eyes. No, even after everything, I didn’t think he was terrible at all.And god, what does that say aboutme?I studied his face as he watched me, waiting for my response, his cheekbones standing out as his mouth tightened.
Then, hand trembling, I picked up the key.
Something wild and unknown passed across his face and speared me straight in my core. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said, then left me sitting there to unfurl my tangle of emotions.
“You can’t be serious.” Frankie set aside her gin martini, practically bouncing with glee. “Are you going to do it?”
I wiped my palms on my jeans, then took a sip of my hefeweizen. “With Christmas two weeks away, all the nearby hotels are booked, and we’re already stretching the townsfolk thin. I don’t want to wear out their kindness and beg them to take me in.”
“So you’re doing it. You’re moving in with Nolan and his fiancée.”
“Shh!” I hissed. “We don’t want it to be front-page news.”
Frankie gave me a dry look over the rim of her glass. “People are going to notice when they see you going in and out of his house.”
“According to Cressida’s press release, I’m his ‘personal assistant’ now, if any opportunistic journalists try to sniff out a story.”
Frankie lifted a beautifully arched eyebrow. “Isthere a story?”
“Absolutely not,” I said, taking another gulp of beer to avoid elaborating. My stomach was already in a twist and adding extra carbonation wouldn’t help, but man, did I need a beer after today.
“So the only reason Nolan told you to live with him is because his grandfather made him do it,” Frankie said with a flat stare, bulldozing through my attempts to dodge her. “Does Nolan seem like the kind of man to allow anyone to tell him what to do?”
“He’s definitely not doing it because he wants me there. This past week, he’s made it perfectly clear that he wants nothing to do with me. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Frank. Need I remind you—and myself—he’sengaged.”
“Yeah, like that’s real,” Frankie scoffed, throwing back the rest of her drink. “Rich people have relationship publicity stunts all the time, andthe man’s eyes practically fall out of his head every time you walk into a room.”
“They do not,” I said around the mouth of my beer bottle. But maybe she did have a point about the publicity thing. I’d thought Nolan’s quip the other night about his ‘carefully cultivated image’ had been a throwaway comment, but…could his engagement be just another part of his billionaire mask? Was it even real?
