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“Fine. I’ll stay here. But just until I start booking gigs with the Naughty Princess Club and can afford my own place.”
He pushes away from the counter with his hip and comes over to the island, resting both of his hands on top of it. I force myself not to stare at the way the muscles in his biceps and forearms tighten with the motion.
“I have rules. First—”
“Wait! Let me get my notebook,” I interrupt him, scrambling down from the stool and over to my bag, which I left next to the couch.
Pulling out one of the many notebooks I take with me everywhere, I pull a pen out of the metal spirals as I come back into the kitchen, smacking the notebook on top of the island and uncapping my pen.
“Okay, shoot.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I look up from my notebook to find him staring at me.
“You’re taking notes?”
“Yes, I’m taking notes. I like notes. Notes help me remember things and keep me organized. Shut up and give me your rules,” I tell him.
Another lip twitch from him makes me want to beg him for a damn smile already, but I’m trying to be serious here.
He sighs before speaking, and I duck my head and stare down at my notebook so he can’t see my smile.
“No slumber parties with your two annoying friends. No redecorating my house and hanging girly shit up on the walls. No bras or underwear or any other frilly things hanging from my shower rod.”
When he stops speaking, I pause from scribbling in my notebook to glance up at him.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
I roll my eyes at him and start writing again.
“There’s a room down the hall, across from my bedroom. It’s locked. It’s always locked. Don’t touch it, and don’t try to get in it. That room stays locked and no one goes in it.”
Oh, shit. He really is a serial killer and that’s where he keeps the dead bodies.
“No, that’s not where I keep the dead bodies.”
When my mouth drops open and my eyes widen in shock, he points at me.
“Open book, princess. Open book.”
He leaves the kitchen and a few minutes later, I hear him turn on the shower. I stare down at the list of rules and read them over a few times, just so I won’t be tempted to think about him in the shower. Naked. Wet. Dripping with Irish Spring soap.
I think it’s finally time I tell Cindy and Ariel the truth. Maybe after they stop freaking out about where I’m living now, they’ll see this might be just what I need. Forget about that stupid Match Made in Heaven and the pervy emails. I can get all the experience I need with the opposite sex right under this roof. It will give me a chance to find out how a man thinks and what makes him tick, and who knows? Maybe it will lead to more. Maybe I can convince Vincent he really is a knight in shining armor.
Besides, he did say I should try a man. What better man than him? The one that will be the most difficult to figure out.
Chapter 8: Blink Once for Yes, Twice for No
After cleaning up the breakfast dishes, I sent a text to Cindy and Ariel, then took a quick shower.
Okay, fine. It was a thirty-minute shower and the best thing I’ve ever experienced. I’m not sure if it was because I’ve been showering at the local YMCA, which is hit or miss with hot water, for the last week, or because Vincent’s shower is like something you’d find in a fancy hotel. The showerhead has eight settings, each one more glorious than the last.
As I finish putting my wet hair up in a messy bun and put my glasses back on, I look down at the simple, long-sleeved floral maxi dress I’m wearing, also grateful for the fact that Vincent owns an iron. Wearing wrinkled clothes that had been shoved into a duffle bag was starting to make people at the library look at me funny.
“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO OUR FRIEND, YOU OVERGROWN ANIMAL!”
“Oh, no,” I mutter to myself when I hear a shout from the living room.
I glance down at the watch on my wrist as I fling open the door to the bathroom, wondering why they’re early. I skid to a stop in the living room just in time to watch Ariel pull her arm back and punch Vincent in the stomach as hard as she can.
“SON OF A BITCH!” she screams, shaking out her hand in pain as Vincent stands there with an irritated expression on his face.
Cindy pushes Ariel out of the way when she spots me standing wide-eyed in front of the fireplace. “Oh, my God, Belle! Are you okay? What’s going on?”
