“That just sounds a lot like I’ll be taking care of a puppy. Hard pass.” I shake my head, undeterred by the very convincing plea in his eyes when he takes my hand, pressing a kiss to the knuckles.
He whispers, “Lady’s choice.” What a load of horseshit, and Tristian knows it, mouth curling against my hand.
Linda, the real estate agent, watches our banter, and I immediately recognize the questions in her eyes. Which one is my partner? Are the four of us going to live together? How does this work? What’s the dynamic, and who should she be appealing to? Even after all this time, she still doesn’t take the risk of actually asking. One thing she knows for certain is that Killian is King of South Side, which means discretion is important. “I’ll, um, let you all look around a little by yourselves. I’ll be outside if you have any questions.”
Once she’s out of the room, Dimitri emits this little wicked laugh. “Man, she’s confused as fuck.”
“She’s freaked out,” Tristian elaborates, crouching down to inspect the floor. “The last real estate agent for the King of South Side ended up with a bullet in her skull.”
Killian lets his arm fall away from my shoulder, walking to the French doors. “And the one before that still hasn’t been found.” A darkness crosses his expression as he stares outside, something wistful in his eyes.
For the millionth time, I carefully suggest, “Then maybe we should look for something a little less elaborate.”
They groan in an eerily perfect unison, each man turning to throw me an exasperated glance. “This again?” Tristian laments, gesturing to Dimitri. “Even Rath stopped pushing back on this.”
Dimitri urges, “We need a place to live, Story.”
“I know.” I shift from foot to foot, worrying, “But we don’t need a mansion.”
Tristian unapologetically disagrees, “I do.”
“I don’t not need one,” Killian mutters.
Dimitri and I share a look, but he’s long since stopped trying to talk any sense into these two. Instead, he approaches me, pulling me close. “Come on, baby. You know the deal.” Six months ago, Dimitri got an eyebrow piercing to go with the rest, and it makes every movement of his brow look impossibly expressive. Right now, as his dark eyes bore into mine, they’re crouched all low and intense. “It’s the family fund. What else are we going to do?”
The deal was that each of us contributes a percentage of our income to the family fund. For me, that’s a paltry amount. For Dimitri, it’s a little more substantial, since he still works South Side. For Killian, it’s an unspeakable amount, and for Tristian?
Well, for him, it’s utterly ridiculous.
But Dimitri is right. What else are we going to do? It’d be frankly hilarious to watch Tristian and Killian survive in a small starter home, but it wouldn’t be fair to them. They have money. They should be able to live within their means, even if it’s so far outside of mine, it might as well be Jupiter.
“Yeah,” I sigh, straining up to brush my lips against his. “I’ll keep looking around.”
“Let’s check out this entertainment room,” Killian says, waving the guys over.
While they do that, I walk through the living room and up the stairs, peeking into each of the bedrooms. Even though I know some of it is due to my hesitation, the clock is ticking. This is the seventh house we’ve looked at in two days, and we need to leave the brownstone soon. The guys graduated two days ago, and the new Lords are ready to start rolling into the place. In a few months, they’ll pick a new Lady and fill the house with their own parties and insanity. We’re not old, but we’re moving to a new place in life. A good place. Apparently, a very expensive place.
I walk to a small room with a door that opens into the main bedroom. It’s a bright room with a large window that overlooks the backyard, and I spend a long time staring out of it, not entirely sure why. Something about the space is just so calming, like I could see myself standing here again. A part of it is the view of the yard below. There’s a pool and a hot tub, plus space for the guys to put in a basketball court, or—
“A swing set would be good there,” Tristian says, wrapping his arms around my waist.
I touch his solid forearms, leaning back into his chest. “For the girls?”
“Or…” His hand ghosts over my flat belly. “…other kids.”
I twist my neck, arching an eyebrow. “You have plans I don’t know about?” It’s not the first time babies and the future of our little family have been brought up. The way they pump me full of their cum, it’s probably a miracle I haven’t had a slip-up. But I’m diligent with my birth control. I had to be. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life and getting knocked up in a frat house wasn’t going to be one of them. I’m not a goddamn princess.