揑 signed, pumpkin,?he replies.
I don抰 respond. He did, and it made me wish I抎 never made the changes to our prenup in the first place. I wasn抰 worried Crew would try to seize control of Haute. I am worried it抯 made things uneven between us. His refusal was supposed to give me reason not to trust him. Instead, I feel indebted. No gift comes without consequence, in my experience.
Crew hums as he looks outside. 揢nseasonably chilly tonight.?
揊eel free to take your weatherman audition elsewhere.?
This time, the hum almost sounds like a laugh. 揑 was referring to your personality, dear.?
That quip isn抰 deigned a response. I抦 on edge enough tonight as it is. My mother and Crew抯 stepmother manufactured this evening. Now that our families have announced our engagement, the Kensingtons and the Ellsworths are supposed to look like one big happy family.
I抳e met Crew抯 father and stepmother before. His father multiple times, his stepmother just once. Candace Kensington is twenty-seven, only two years older than me. Perky and blonde and far more interested in her stepsons than her husband, based on my interpretation of the family dynamic during the last hour. Or the lack thereof.
I watch Crew as he takes a sip of whiskey. 揌ave you slept with Candace??
He doesn抰 react as he swallows, which is disappointing. I was hoping for a dramatic cough or two.
揗y father抯 wife??
揧our stepmother. Yes.?
Crew chuckles. Rubs a hand across his clean-shaven jaw. I wonder what he抎 look like with stubble, just a little less put together.
揥hy are you asking??
I shrug as I sip more champagne, noting the lack of a no. 揓ust trying to figure out how much messiness I抦 marrying into.?
揑t抯 a mess,?he replies. 揘ot messy.?
揥hat does that mean??
揑t means it抯 nothing you can抰 handle and nothing you can change.?
揌ow vague and mildly complimentary of you.?
Crew smirks. 揅ome on.?
He starts walking across the marble floor toward the twin curved staircases. I follow, mostly because I抦 sick of staring at the pool and in no hurry to return to the stiff small talk taking place in the drawing room.
My heels hit the smooth rock with a light tap that echoes through the cavernous space with all the subtlety of a gunshot.
The Kensington estate is stunning, but I can抰 muster any genuine appreciation. I抳e been in條ived in梞ansions just as large and ostentatious as this one. If you stare at shiny objects for too long, they lose their luster.
I抳e been here a handful of times over the past decade. All the visits were for parties or formal events. Never when the enormous house was empty梠f people and of anything besides a wide assortment of antique furniture and priceless art.
The hallway overlooking the pool and grounds is sized similarly to a hotel ballroom, with glass doors that rise to meet the ten-foot ceiling.
Halfway to the staircases that bookend one end of the hall, my stomach growls條oudly.
揌ungry??There抯 stifled laughter in his voice.
揑 hate caviar.?
揑 don抰 think anyone actually likes caviar. You just choke it down.?
揑 never swallow because a guy says so.?
Crew clears his throat. Coughs. Laughs. 揋ood.?
He takes the comment in stride, and it makes me want to push him further. I pegged Crew as brash and bossy, not easygoing. Maybe he抯 only like that at work. In bed.
I shove that last thought far, far away. I knew I was attracted to Crew. He抯 objectively gorgeous. But I didn抰 know I would be attracted to Crew. Admiring a guy抯 ass is different from noticing how he acts. What he wears. What he says.
Watching his Brioni-clad back alter course and turn down another marble-lined hall, I抦 unsettled by how much of a distinction I can suddenly find between attraction and interest.
Walking into the gourmet kitchen provides a welcome distraction. I barely have a chance to take in the crystal chandeliers, marble backsplash, and shiny appliances before Crew turns to the right and opens a sliding door. He flicks on a light, and we抮e in a卲antry.
揅ool,?I drone. 揑 love spending time amidst non-perishables.?
揌ow does that silver spoon taste, Ellsworth??
I have to bite the inside of my cheek so he doesn抰 know I find him funny. Or worse, clever. 揃etter than yours, Kensington.?
Crew shakes his head as he opens a small box and holds it out to me. 揌ere.?
I stick my hand in and pull out a circular disk just smaller than my palm. I sniff. 揥hat is it??
揅hocolate-covered biscuit. I get them every time I抦 at the chalet in the Alps.?Crew grabs another one out of the box and takes a big bite. Mine is more hesitant. My teeth slowly sink through the thin layer of dark chocolate and into the biscuit. Buttery, slightly bitter deliciousness explodes in my mouth.