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CHAPTER 2
Dylan
“Oh, my God. What happened to this kitchen?” Kylie said as she gaped at what had once been a spotless chef’s kitchen.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t thrown up the caution signals before she’d gotten here. If she chose not to listen, it was her fault.
“I did warn you,” I said defensively. “Clarence and Anita were gone by the time I got back to the house. They’ll be gone for another six weeks since they had no idea I’d be returning to the house much earlier than expected. I’d planned on spending a few months in England.”
“Which gives you permission to be a complete slob?” she asked. “Surely, even a billionaire knows how to clean up after himself.”
I shrugged. “It’s not like I was expecting company. I would have done it at some point.”
I resisted the urge to call her Red again, and I wasn’t quite sure why since it was my mission to get her to leave. It obviously irritated her, but for some reason I didn’t completely understand; I didn’t actually want to…hurt her.
Kylie rolled her eyes. “When was that going to happen? When you couldn’t see the kitchen counters anymore?” She picked up one of the pans in the sink carefully. “Were you trying to cook?”
“In the beginning, yes,” I admitted reluctantly. “Eventually, I just gave up and ordered out.”
I watched her as she started to fill the pans in the sink with water.
“I’ll let them soak,” she explained. “I think I can get the burned food off the bottom. This is really high-end cookware. I’ve been lusting after a set like this forever.”
I’d much prefer that she was lusting after me.
It was rather deflating that she found those dirty pots and pans more desirable than kissing me again.
Does it really matter what she thinks?
It’s not as though I’d really cared how anyone felt for the last two years. There was really no point in starting to let anyone’s opinion matter at this point.
“Just leave it,” I instructed as I started to throw away the trash on the counters. “I’ll buy more pots and pans.”
She turned to me, her eyes wide. “Are you insane? You don’t just toss cast-iron pots and pans like these.”
I shrugged. “I would.”
I frowned when a wet dishrag collided with my head as Kylie requested, “Would you mind wiping the pizza sauce off the granite on the island?”
It wasn’t really a request, even though she’d technically asked me to do it.
Rather than argue, I started cleaning the island.
Really, I had to admit that the kitchen was a mess.
It was sad that it had taken an annoyingly bossy female to point that out, but cleaning up hadn’t been a priority for me.
I straddled one of the stools at the island once the cleanup was done. “If this doesn’t prove that I’m not a good housemate, I’m not sure what will,” I grumbled. “You might as well pack up that suitcase if you like to eat. There isn’t much food in the house.”
I watched as she opened all the cupboards, and then rummaged through the refrigerator and freezer.
“Nice try,” she answered in a much too cheerful voice. “There’s plenty of food here, and there are grocery stores everywhere for the fresh stuff I need. I’m not going anywhere, Dylan, so you might as well give up on trying to make me go. Nicole is like a sister to me, and she just made me a partner in ACM, the crisis management PR firm where I’ve worked for years, even though I couldn’t afford to buy my part of the business up front. I also happen to like your twin brother. So I’m going to make damn sure the two of them have a fabulous wedding without any hassle.”
I heaved a beleaguered sigh, not sure if I was terrified or relieved that she wasn’t easily intimidated.
Granted, I’d been behaving like a wanker for a while now, but I was still Dylan Lancaster. It was a name that instilled respect in almost everyone—with the exception of my family.
Well, the Lancaster name demanded admiration in everyone except her, apparently.
