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I brushed a lock of dark hair from his temple. “I think it was very thoughtful. And I look forward to lengthy discussions about the order in which ranked vampires can enter a room.”
“Not in a million years.”
“Speaking of millions,” I said, grateful for the segue, “can I ask you a personal question?”
His grin was wicked. “Of course.”
“Not that kind of personal question.” But still, very personal. And awkward. I gestured around us. “How did you pay for all this?”
His brows lifted in surprise; whatever he’d expected me to ask, it hadn’t been that. “With money?”
“I mean—I can’t believe I haven’t asked this—I assume you get paid by the Pack for working at NAC or...?”
“Pack members get a portion of the profits from NAC Industries and the businesses that make it up. They’ve been mostly very successful. Our family’s share is larger because we put up the initial investment money.”
I could buy that, and knew they operated several businesses, but his individual sliver of Keene family profits still didn’t seem to be enough for all this. “And?”
“And,” he said flatly. “Other means.”
I thought of the leather, the bikes, and what little I knew of old-school motorcycle clubs said they ran heavy in drug and protection rackets.
“That’s an ignorant stereotype,” he said, apparently having read the look on my face. “And no, I didn’t use those other means to buy the house. The funds were entirely legitimate.”
“From the profits of NAC Industries?”
To my absolute surprise, faint pink rose across his cheekbones. “And other sources in my account.”
“Do you... have a trust fund?”
More pink, which made my grin widen.
“Are you... rich?”
“You don’t have to say it like that.”
I grinned at him. “I kind of think I do.”
“I’m comfortable,” he said, squirming a little. “My parents knew how to invest their funds.” He tapped my chin. “So if we can’t meet the deadline, and I need to whisk you out of Chicago, we can make other plans.”
His turn for a decent segue. “And where would we go?”
“Wherever you’ll go with me,” he said and pressed a kiss to my lips. “Come here.” He patted the blanket. “Let’s enjoy the night and the air and the breeze. And the peace and damned quiet.”
I adjusted to lie beside him, fitting perfectly into his arms. And he was right. It was peaceful and quiet. The brick wall or house or greenery, or all three, seemed to soften the sounds of the city, so it hummed softly around us. The air was cool, the breeze delicious, and a few stars had been strong enough to pierce the haze and shine above us.
“I can’t believe this is inside the city,” I said. “It’s really remarkable.”
“I thought so. It felt like... an oasis. But we won’t get many more nights like this. Not when the cold sets in.”
“You have fur.”
“So I do. And rolling in the snow is a lot of fun. But traversing hard-packed and filthy snow on a Chicago sidewalk in February is not.”
“Picnic dinners and moonlit chats,” I said. “You’re a lot more romantic on dates than I’d imagined.”
He turned to look at me, grin full of masculine satisfaction. “You imagined?”
“Let’s just say, the girls you used to date didn’t seem very interested in romance, and you didn’t seem very interested in supplying it.”
