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As I took a quick walk around, I knew I’d be spending a lot of my free time in here. Not that I had much of it, but still. “Where did you get all these books?”
“Most of them were Hugh’s,” replied Dane. “Come on, the tour isn’t yet over.”
He showed me the wine cellar, safe room, indoor pool, home office, well-outfitted gym, and, finally, the bedrooms. There were six, in total.
He didn’t show me the inside of his own bedroom, just pointed at the closed door and said, “That’s my room. Now I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.” He led me to the opposite end of the wide hall and motioned me through a partially open door.
Stepping inside, I almost gasped. He’d said I’d have a bed, a closet, a set of drawers, and a workstation. He hadn’t mentioned the antique dressing table, the cozy fireplace, the private bathroom, the reading nook with the lush recliner, or that the bed was a luxurious queen-sized, French-style antique.
Advancing further into the room, I peeked into the walk-in closet. Shit, it was bigger than my kitchen. The walls were lined with racks, shelves, and mirrors, and it even had a shoe carousel.
Exiting the closet, I realized he hadn’t moved from the bedroom doorway. “Has someone been using this room?” Because it didn’t feel like a standard guest room, and it didn’t look as basic as the others.
“No,” he replied simply, setting my suitcase on the floor.
“This stuff is all new?”
“Yes,” he said, like it was no big deal. But it was. Because it meant he’d furnished this room with me in mind. He hadn’t needed to do that at all. A generic guest room would have suited me fine.
I swallowed. “Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say.
He shrugged. “You had to give up your home. The least I could do was make sure you had a decent room.”
It was a hell of a lot more than “decent.”
“You hungry?”
I shook my head. My stomach was still tied up in knots after the break-in. “No, but thanks.”
“I have a few calls I need to make. Get settled and then come find me when you’re ready to eat.” With that, he was gone.
Alone, I blew out a breath and walked to the large window. It overlooked the rear of the estate. Damn, the man had acreage to burn. There was an outdoor pool, hot tub, cabana, small bar, and stone patio seating area. There were also three small additional buildings. One had to be the outhouse he’d mentioned.
Plopping my ass on the bed, I skimmed my fingers along the cool, gold, satin sheets. It was unbelievable to think that people really lived in places like this.
I lay back on the bed. And almost groaned in delight. It was so damn soft and comfy it would have lured me to sleep if I wasn’t so mentally wired.
I still couldn’t quite believe he’d gone to all this trouble to make sure I felt comfortable. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Considerate. He was so self-focused that he generally didn’t bother to even ask himself how another person might be feeling. Whatever his motivation for this, I was grateful. And I was so claiming his library.
Forcing myself to sit up, I grabbed my phone from my purse and made calls to Simon and my foster parents to tell them about the break-in. Neither call went well. There was cursing and ranting and fretting from all parties.
They were mollified on hearing I was staying with Dane, who had tip-top security measures. Still, I had to promise to visit them all the following day so they could see for themselves that I was okay. Honestly, you’d think I’d been attacked or something.
Once I’d made calls to the insurance company and my landlord, I plonked my small suitcase on the bed. It was time to unpack. I placed my cosmetics on the vanity dresser, lay my laptop and tablet on the workstation, stuck my e-reader in the drawer of the nightstand, put my travel size toiletries into the spa-like bathroom, and then hid all my valuables—including the ones I’d brought from my home safe—beneath the bottom drawer of the dresser.
Most of my clothes needed washing, but I always took extra underwear and a spare suit when we went on business trips in the event of a wardrobe malfunction, so I placed the clean items in the closet.
As for my wedding bouquet … was it weird that I brought it back with me from Vegas? Maybe. But I just hadn’t been able to find it in me to toss it in the trash, despite that Dane had no doubt done exactly that with his boutonniere. Keeping the bouquet wrapped in tissue paper, I carefully placed it on an empty shelf.
I was just contemplating whether to stick my balled-up dirty clothes into a spare pillowcase to carry down to the laundry room—something told me that if I dropped a sock somewhere, I’d have a hell of a time tracking it down—when I heard a loud buzzer. Clearly Dane had a visitor.
