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“Real convincing.” Damen frowned, turning his attention to the others in turn. “Someone’s been talking.” But when no one offered to take the blame or deny their wrong-doing, Damen sighed. “No matter, we have rules. If you want to hire a decorator to come in and redo the space, then feel free. You can put it on the house account.”
I pursed my lips, glancing around the room. Now that the space wasmine, my surroundings took on new meanings. The canopy bed was my style, but the gray and white fabrics weren’t so much.
But this wasn’t exactly the most opportune moment to be redecorating. “It’s fine. Thanks.”
“Are you sure?” Damen raised his eyebrow. “You don’t want green everywhere or something?”
I frowned at him. “Unlike the rest of you, I am not a stereotype. Green is an accent color. If you do too much, you ruin it.”
“Then what color would you choose?” There was a thread of hope in Damen’s voice. But for what reason, I couldn’t imagine.
Besides, wasn’t it obvious?
“Pink, different shades of it.” I pointed at the windows. “And maybe some cream. Crystal chandeliers, a white vanity over there.” I waved toward an empty corner. “Lots of sheer fabrics and tiny lights…” My voice trailed off—Damen’s expression had turned into something disturbing. “What?”
“I have things to do.” Damen turned abruptly and left the room. Titus, with a wink to me, followed him.
“What things?” I asked once the door had shut behind them.
“No idea,” Miles said. “It could be one of two things. The first is not something I want to think about. And the second is something else entirely. In that case, I’d rather not spoil it.”
This time I leaned back, glancing around Julian’s arm toward Miles. “What are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Julian interjected as he patted my thigh to encourage me to get off his lap. “Now it’s time for you to take a shower. Then medicine and fresh bandages.”
“Fine…” I’d figure it out eventually. Damen couldn’t keep anything to himself anyway. Knowing him, he’d be making an obnoxious, bold declaration soon.
“What about clothes?” As I stood, I glanced down at my shirt andHello Kittyboxers.
“No one has wanted to go out to buy anything without your approval. You would probably yell at everyone for spending money, and it’s scary. And you have your own style.” Julian frowned, touching his chin.
That wasn’t true at all. I had money these days—my marital funds.
Besides, “I don’t mind suggestions…” I muttered.
Just so long as they weren’t ugly suggestions.
Miles walked across the room, grabbing a small pile of folded clothes from the window seat.
“Here,” Miles said, returning to me. “This is Julian’s, wear this for now.”
I glanced at Julian—unsure if I should accept this offering—but he only shrugged. He was touching his forehead, something else apparently on his mind.
His distracted expression seemed to drag the whole room down.
“Besides, he’s the scrawniest.” Miles pressed the pile into my arms, his lips turning up into a grin. “They’ll fit you.”
Julian frowned, snapping to attention at Miles’s words. The distant look left his face. “You’re shorter than me.”
“Yeah.” Miles nodded. “But not by much. Everyone knows you’re the least intimidating.”
Julian’s brows furrowed. “Are you trying to annoy me?”
Miles pressed his hand to his heart, his tone light. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. These are the simple words of someone still awaiting their ‘thank you’.”
Julian didn’t miss a beat in his reply. “That moment has passed. Now stop being obnoxious and fetch my bag.”
“You fetch it,” Miles replied, the humor dropping from his expression. He crossed his arms, scowling. “Your chicken legs could use some building up.”
