Page 75 of Bound To Be Mine

Holy shit. How in the world was I supposed to keep my hands to myself?

23

BRIGGS

Ifollowed Mandy’s car in the rental I was using. She led me up through the Hollywood Hills. The houses got bigger and more spread out the higher we climbed. I’d been here once before at a designer’s party. When she finally turned into a driveway, I had to pause for a second to take it in.

This wasn’t just a house. It was a fucking estate.

Modern architecture, all clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows. The kind of place that probably had been featured in architectural magazines and had been owned by at least one Hollywood celebrity before her. I pulled in behind her and killed the engine.

“Holy shit,” I muttered to myself.

Mandy was already out of her car, grabbing her purse. She looked back at me with a grin. “You coming?”

“This is your house?” I asked, climbing out.

“This is my house.” She walked toward the front door, pulling out her keys. “I bought it two years ago. It was a fixer-upper.”

“A fixer-upper,” I repeated, looking at the immaculate exterior.

“Well, it needed work. New kitchen, updated bathrooms, the pool was a disaster.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “But I had a vision.”

I followed her inside and immediately understood what she meant by vision. The interior was stunning—open concept, natural light pouring in from every direction, tasteful furniture that managed to be both elegant and comfortable. Everything was decorated in soft, warm tones. Lots of cream and beige with pops of that blush pink she loved.

“Mandy, this is incredible,” I said.

“Thanks.” She dropped her purse on the entryway table. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

She led me through the main living area, pointing out features as we went. The kitchen had marble countertops and top-of-the-line appliances. The living room had a fireplace and built-in bookshelves. There was a formal dining room I suspected never got used.

“Guest bathroom,” she said, gesturing to a door. “My office is over here. I do most of my planning work from home.”

We headed upstairs. She showed me the master suite with a massive bed, walk-in closet, and bathroom with a soaking tub that looked like it belonged in a spa. Then two more bedrooms, both beautifully decorated.

“This one’s yours,” she said, opening the door to the room at the end of the hall. “It has its own bathroom. Clean towels are in the cabinet.”

I stepped inside. King-sized bed, dresser, another set of floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city below. It was nicer than most hotel rooms I’d stayed in.

“This is perfect,” I said. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She leaned against the doorframe. “Make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa and all that.”

“Literally, since we’re married.”

She laughed. “Right. I keep forgetting that part. Come on, let me show you the backyard.”

We headed back downstairs and out through the sliding glass doors. The backyard was just as impressive as the rest of the house. Perfectly manicured lawn, mature trees providing privacy and shade. Her pool looked like inviting in the sunshine.

But what caught my attention was the outdoor kitchen setup.

Built-in grill. Gas hookup. Granite countertops. A prep sink. The whole nine yards. It was an actual outdoor kitchen. I’d obviously seen plenty, but damn, hers was nice.

I felt my heart rate pick up.

“Is that a Wolf grill?” I asked, walking over to inspect it more closely.

“Yeah.” Mandy came to stand beside me. “The previous owners installed it. I’ve barely used it.”