Page 37 of Have To Be Mine

I heard the shower shut off. A few minutes later, he emerged in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants. Of course.

“All yours,” he said.

I grabbed my bag and locked myself in the bathroom, grateful for the solid door between us. The bathroom was like the total opposite of the hostel’s. Marble everything. A rainfall shower that looked like it belonged in a spa. Expensive soaps and lotions lined up like little soldiers in the shower designed to hold a dance party.

I stripped off my cargo pants and tank top, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. When had I last looked at myself? Really looked? I saw what Dash had seen. One of the brothers.

I shook off the thought and stepped into the shower. The water was perfect. I let it wash away the day. I used the fancy shampoo that smelled like strawberries and cream. The conditioner that made my hair feel like silk. I even used the body wash instead of my usual bar soap.

When I finally stepped out, my limbs felt looser and my thoughts no longer felt like a jumbled-up mess.

I dried off and realized I had a problem. I’d brought my usual sleepwear—an oversized Army T-shirt and cotton shorts. Nothing sexy, nothing revealing. Not that I wanted to be sexy, but would it be horrible if I looked somewhat like a girl?

When I stepped out of the bathroom, I smelled something savory. I followed the tempting scent into the living room, where a room-service cart was parked. Dash was on the balcony beside a table with a bunch of dome-covered plates on it.

He saw me and waved me over. “I ordered dinner. Figured you might be hungry.”

I couldn’t believe he actually thought about my needs. It was confusing but in a good way. I was hungry. I would be prideful and defiant later.

I sat down across from him. He removed the domes and my stomach growled audibly. I would have been embarrassed if I wasn’t so ravenous.

“You must work up quite the appetite being that angry all the time.”

I ignored him and stabbed my fork into the grilled fish. Then I took a bite, closed my eyes, and moaned with satisfaction.

When I opened them, he was watching me.

“Good?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Very. Thanks.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes. The food was incredible, and I found myself relaxing despite everything.

“You know,” Dash said, setting down his fork. “I meant what I said earlier. About you fitting in with my family.”

I looked up, surprised. “I don’t know about all that.”

“You’re full of conviction,” he continued. “Headstrong. A good problem solver. Those are all Blackwell traits. Adrian’s the same way. Briggs too. Even Sebastian, though he hid it better until recently. He’s recently flourished taking on a more creative role.”

Something fluttered in my chest. Pleasure, maybe. Or pride. “Thanks.”

“You’d give Adrian a run for his money in the control department.”

I smiled despite myself. “Is that a compliment?”

“It is, actually. Adrian’s the best CEO I know. He’s just…” Dash waved his hand. “Intense. Like you.”

I waited, fork frozen halfway to my mouth, for him to say something else. Something about how I looked. How I was pretty when I smiled, or how my eyes were nice, or literally anything that acknowledged I was a woman.

But nothing came.

Of course nothing came. Because that’s all I was to him and to everyone. One of the boys. The son my father never had. The woman who tried so hard to be taken seriously that she’d erased every soft thing about herself.

At Sebastian’s wedding, he’d hit on me. But that was because I’d been wearing my mother’s gown. I’d looked like a different person that night. Everything I wasn’t. Feminine and elegant. It hadn’t been the real me.

“I’m the son my father never had,” I said lightly, like it was a joke. Like it didn’t cut deep every time I thought about it.

I could feel his eyes on me. “It seems like that bothers you?”