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Once we’re both in the corridor, I walk back to the living area. “Upstairs are four more bedrooms, three bathrooms, a sitting room, and a terrace.”
That’s a lot of rooms. “Do you have a big family?”
I frown. “No.”
“A lot of friends?”
“No.”
Her eyes bulge in their sockets. “Wait—do you have kids?”
“No. Why are you asking me that?”
“That’s a lot of bedrooms and bathrooms,” she says. “Do you switch every night?”
I shrug. “I don’t need half of this house. I just wanted the privacy.”
Once we cross the living room, I show her the backyard, with its stunning view of the canyon. The yard is expansive, but there isn’t much out there. Just a patio with an outdoor seating area I have never used, a fire pit I don’t have a clue how to turn on, a pool house, and a long swimming pool—the only feature of the backyard I actually use.
She seems impressed, and her eyes widen with each new feature. I know the feeling. I remember how awe-inducing it was when I stepped foot in a mansion for the first time. I kept comparing it to the houses I grew up in, quickly coming to the conclusion that all of them would fit in the living area alone with room to spare.
I guide her through the rest of her wing, which has another room, a bathroom, a sitting room, a laundry room, and a supplies room for the staff. Oh, and a wine cellar.
“Looks like I have the most important wing,” she jokes. “I’m set for life here.” She raises her head to survey the room, where floor-to-ceiling temperature-controlled shelves house the finest wines in the world. I open a bottle or two sometimes, but they’re more like collectibles. Drinking alone is a little pathetic.
“So, that’s it,” I say with a clap of my hands, relieved that the tour is finally over. “Just make sure Truffles stays in this wing, and we should be fine. You’re welcome to use any of the rooms on the main floor.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“So, I have some work to catch up on. Agnes will be here later today, and I’ll introduce you.”
“You’re going to work now? It’s Sunday.”
“I’m the CEO. I work every day of the week,” I jest. “I’ll be in my home office, though. Enjoy your day. It’s beautiful weather for a swim, or you can watch a movie in the theater. Come knocking if you need anything.”
“Um, sure,” she says with a nod, wringing her hands in front of her.
Yes, I realize I could be a little more welcoming and spend some time with her, but this is a lot for me already. Plus, the deal dictates that we live together and pretend to be a couple in public. It says nothing about spending time together at home. And anyway, she’d probably rather be alone.
I turn around and stroll to my office.
I’m halfway through a long report when an email notification pops up on my screen. It’s from Max.
“A few more articles came out about you and Jane. In case you want to see.” Underneath the message are two links. I want to reply to Max that he’s not supposed to be working on a Sunday, but my curiosity gets the best of me. I click on the first link, which leads to a picture of us on Friday night walking out of the restaurant. My hand is clutching Jane’s, and I’m gazing at her with a look I can’t quite decipher. I should know. It’s my look, but it’s one I’ve never worn before. Granted, I don’t spend a lot of my time studying my expression in pictures. Not that I would gain any insights from that. I always bear the same expression. But this is different. Here, I look . . . intrigued maybe? Jane was feeling cold, so maybe it was concern.
The short text underneath reads, “Has Colton Green finally found his match? Rumor has it, the founder of the Love Connected app is off the market for good. The lovebirds naturally met on the famous app and hit it off instantly. Sources close to the couple say the idyll has been going on for months and that they are now living together. To be continued.”
It’s good. Really good. Max has done a terrific job of feeding information to the tabloids. He definitely needs a bonus at the end of the year, because the guy is remarkable. PR isn’t part of his job description, yet he’s handling this like a pro.
The other article looks a lot like the first, but it adds that an engagement might even be in the cards.
I email back to congratulate him on a job well done and order him to enjoy the rest of his Sunday. As I’m hitting Send, something distracts me on my left. There’s movement outside. My office window faces the backyard, offering a great view of the swimming pool. A swimming pool from which Jane is now emerging, wearing a tiny white bikini.
My breath catches in my throat as I watch her climb the stairs, reaching for a towel she placed on a lounger. She dries the ends of her wavy hair first, allowing me more time to admire her gorgeous golden body. I don’t know if she just spends a lot of time outside or if she’s naturally tan, but the contrast against the white swimsuit is spectacular. She’s thin, but somehow, she still has curves in all the right places. Stunning.
A knock on my door startles me, and I jump in my seat like a teenager caught watching dirty movies—which is not that far off. My mind was starting to get un-gentlemanly.
“Yes?” I sputter, sitting up straight.
