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“My swollen balls?” Sebastian asked quietly.
“So,” I said. “If the offer still stands, I accept. I’ll watch your cat.”
Sebastian nodded, and I’d be damned if something very dangerous and sexy didn’t glimmer in his eyes. “Good,” he said. “I have to meet with some colleagues tomorrow in Philly. I’ll be gone for two days, so the house is yours. I’ll leave instructions for taking care of Mr. Meatball on the kitchen counter. Dr. Willows will still be here to keep an eye on you until I’m convinced you’re well.”
“Shouldn’t it be until the trained doctor is convinced I’m well?”
“That’s what I said. And I’ll send a driver by tomorrow so you can go to your place and pick up any essentials you may need. Jasper helps out around the house if you need anything else.”
“Jasper. Your butler,” I said.
“No,” Sebastian said. “He just helps me manage staff and various tasks around the house.”
“Like a butler,” I said slowly.
Sebastian sighed. “I do not have a butler.”
I grinned. “You totally have a butler, and I can’t wait to officially meet him. Also, I hope you know the best way to judge a rich man is by how he treats his butler. I’ll be getting a full report from Jasper in the morning.”
Sebastian shoved his hands in his pockets, still wearing the perpetually moody expression he seemed to like. “One last thing,” he said. “Mr. Meatball can become… unhealthily attached to certain people. It would be best to keep your door locked at night.”
As if that was a totally normal way to end a conversation, Sebastian left and closed the door.
I stared after him, not sure if I should laugh or cry.
In fact, I was seriously starting to wonder if I needed to re-evaluate my whole “shoot first, ask questions later” philosophy. Or at the very least, I might have to put it on hold when it came to Sebastian St. James. First, it got me knocked up. Now it had me staying as a guest in his huge mansion and agreeing to watch his creepy cat.
Then again, how much weirder could it get?
10
Kenzie
I had a feeling Sebastian expected me to stay in bed until the following morning. Naturally, I decided to do the opposite. He’d be gone tomorrow, but I’d been trapped in the same damn bed all day with nothing to do. There wasn’t even a TV in my room. I was sure Sebastian could entertain himself by glaring at things for hours on end, but I needed a little excitement.
I got myself out of the bed and was reminded that some perv had stripped me down to my panties and put me in a thin hospital gown. I wondered if that had happened the night before when I was in a real hospital, or if Sebastian had seen to it himself. I had to mentally slap myself on the wrist for letting that thought turn me on. Creepy, Kenzie. That would be creepy, not hot. But no amount of logic stopped the warm, tingling buzz in my lower belly.
Evening had crept closer, darkening the sky outside to a buttery gold.
I moved slowly around my room, looking for any hidden cameras, dungeon hatches hidden under rugs, or safes behind paintings. Nothing. At least the headache I’d felt earlier was all but gone. I tested my footing, did a few exploratory jumps and stretches. Nothing deadly happened, so I decided I was definitely good enough to go exploring. Some might call wandering around a near-stranger’s house and sticking your nose where it didn’t belong “snooping.” But me? I’d say it’s only snooping if you get caught.
Like an unathletic, highly untrained ninja, I padded out into the hallway.
Apparently, Sebastian had never met my father because he thought it was appropriate to leave almost every single light in the house turned on. I briefly pictured my dad clicking his tongue in disapproval as he wandered the house in slippers, flicking off lights while asking nobody in particular if they knew what the electric bill was going to look like.
Smiling at the image, I set off in a random direction.
The difference between giant houses and hotels was subtle. There were still seemingly endless rows of rooms, but instead of every room being a bedroom, they were devoted to obscure, rich person purposes. The first door I stuck my head in was some kind of man cave with pool tables, smoking chairs, and a polished wooden table devoted to a game I didn’t recognize with little pucks and a lot of confusing markings.
I pursed my lips in thought, then moved on, wondering if I’d find a bowling alley. I moved methodically through the place, checking out every room I passed on the upper floor. There were plenty of bedrooms that were all decorated in unique themes and mostly featured amazing views of the private estate grounds outside. There was also a theater room with seating for at least fifteen people, a handful of luxurious office areas, each equipped with a library of its own, and even what looked like some sort of sensory deprivation tank in the middle of a darkened room with ambient nature sounds playing.
