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Matthias just grunted at me like I was a wayward brat he was suddenly responsible for.
The Vaulteneau estate resembled an upscale resort, with multiple swimming pools—one of which had a waterfall—a botanical garden, and a hidden grotto lagoon. There was even a patch of grass to play putt-putt golf. The only thing missing was a zoo.
The estate had been built into the cliff, so it was deeper than it looked, with multiple levels with panoramic views. It’d take me years to explore it all, not that I planned to be here longer than was necessary.
Palm trees rose up. The sun beamed down like everything was all right in the world. A cool breeze from the Pacific Ocean brought with it sweet flowers, salty ocean spray, and the crashing of the waves below.
I thought it’d be warmer, but earlier Mom had explained that the ocean’s temperature was below sixty this time of year, which could make mornings and nights chilly.
“Home sweet home,” Matthias said as he pushed open the front door to the guesthouse. He shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head. His body was stiff, closed off, as if he didn’t want me to get to know him. The guesthouse, which did not compare to the castle out front, was still a mansion. “And no, I don’t like this arrangement any more than you do.”
“Trust me when I say I like it less than you do,” I bit back, which earned me an angry flash of those deep brown eyes.
So the Prince of Malibu had emotions? Point for me.
Stepping inside, I was met with dark wood floors, dark green—almost black—walls with cascading vines and other plants, accented with light gray couches and chairs. The chandelier was a million threads of lights wound together in some architectural design I couldn’t name, though I found its cohesive disjointedness pleasing.
A stone fireplace occupied a quarter of one wall while the rest of it contained bookshelves, filled top to bottom. I already knew I’d enjoy lingering over the tomes housed on the bookshelves. The guesthouse was one large open space on the first floor, with a large dining room in the back. Next to that was a designer kitchen with gleaming appliances and a wide marble island.
Through it all, the veranda was wide open, and I could see the ocean on the other side. Surfboards were stacked lengthwise against a pillar.
Matthias shifted to the stairs. “Bedrooms are on the second floor.”
“Are all the bedrooms occupied in the main house?” I asked as his firm ass mesmerized me as he climbed the stairs.
I flicked my gaze away. Jesus, the guy was my stepbrother. What the fuck was wrong with me?
“Why? Are you worried about your safety? The bedrooms have locks, in case you get scared at night.”
“From you?” I scoffed, which earned me another glare. I was beginning to like this. “Hardly. Just trying to figure out where you hang out so I can avoid that part of the estate.”
Matthias’s nostrils flared. “Dad’s giving the staff a holiday while he and Theresa are on their honeymoon. Most of the house will be closed up. However, feel free to explore to your heart’s content. I don’t plan on babysitting you.”
“I’m shattered you didn’t think to schedule play dates for me.”
He groused out a “Little fucker,” which made me chuckle, and something like a thin smile tugged on his lips. Maybe Matthias wasn’t so much of an asshole after all. He was probably just as irritated about the elopement as I was, though it wasn’t like his whole life had been uprooted.
Matthias showed me a massive bathroom with double sinks, a deep tub, and a walk-in shower big enough to hold ten people. No lie, I liked the idea of having the place to myself.
We walked by an open door to a bedroom that looked occupied. A dark blue bedspread was rumpled on the mattress. The floor was a mess, full of clothes, shoes, and odds and ends. The desk was cluttered with books and an open laptop, while a massive entertainment center was jam-packed with a large TV and gaming consoles. University of Southern California Trojans flare hung from the walls. In the far corner, a decorative wooden surfboard hung longwise against the wall.
What impressed me the most, however, was that the external wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, and a sliding door that led to a wide deck.
Matthias kept going, but I asked, “Whose bedroom is this?”
“Mine.”
It took me a second to register what he said.
“You live in the guesthouse?”
He wore an expression of boredom. “Yeah, that’s what I just said.” Then his face split into a shit-eating grin. “Oh, you thought you had the entire guesthouse to yourself? That’s hysterical.”
Matthias laughed for a full minute, even wiping a tear from his eye, before he sobered, though the grin never fully left his face.
“You don’t have to be a dick about it,” I fumed, embarrassed. I crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s not like I know anything about you, your family, or this estate.”
“Don’t worry.” He opened another door and gestured for me to enter a room that was almost the size of our apartment back in Vegas. “None of us have high expectations about you, either.”
