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“Yeah.” My response comes out choked as I juggle my laptop so I can open the old, wooden back door. Margaret’s just polished the main hallway, and I’d hate to leave a mark on it.
“What time’s your flight?”
“Eight.”
I don’t have to look at my watch to know that I have approximately forty minutes to pack and be ready to leave. Jet was adamant we leave on time. He stormed off the minute we stepped inside the house earlier, and the only evidence of him since was the whipping sound of his skipping rope coming from outside.
“Will you call me at the airport? I’ll be here if you need anything, okay?”
I manage a weak smile and lean back against the door. “Thank you.”
“You can do this.”
I tip my head back and blow out a breath.
“The idea of it is making me feel sick if I’m honest. But I told Jet I would, so—”
“So you want to keep your word?”
“No! I want to show the asshole I’m not a freeloader. He thinks I’m incapable of doing anything. He’s so far up his own ass, Liv. Honestly, wait until you meet him. You’ll see what I mean.”
“You make him sound delightful.”
“Jet’s as delightful as a yeast infection on a hot day.”
“Eww.”
Peals of laughter echo down the phone, and I grin, feeling a little better about the mess I’m in.
“He’s got a stick so far up his ass you could fly a flag out of his mouth.”
Liv’s cackles grow louder.
“And he accused Magnus of screwing me. He’s son of the fucking year,” I say as I push away from the door and walk down the hallway.
The hairs on the back of my neck prick up as I reach the old wooden staircase, the feeling of being watched overwhelming.
My throat goes dry as I lock eyes with him, sitting halfway up.
“I’ll call you back, Liv.” I end the call.
His eyes are bloodshot and he’s in his workout shorts, his shoulders slumped forward like he’s lost the will to move. The skipping rope is coiled around one of his hands, turning his knuckles white.
“Don’t stop on my account.” His lips flatten into a grim line.
My eyes drop down his naked chest, over the scattering of hair there, and then lower to the dark trail leading beneath his waistband. The outline of a dick as thick as my wrist presses against the thin fabric of his shorts as he stands. He’s all man in the most intense way.
Somehow, it makes me dislike him even more.
He walks down the steps, stopping in front of me. Beads of sweat pepper his collarbone and run down his chest. The heat from his body overtakes the hallway as he stares down at me.
“Your luggage has been put in your room. I suggest you pack. We leave in thirty-six minutes.”
He walks away, leaving me with the sight of his broad, muscular back, shining in sweat, and a firm ass that would make every man want to immediately take up skipping.
I head up the old staircase to get to my room—Jet’s room.
I place my phone and laptop on the bed before going into the dressing area. My new luggage is here, just like he said. I open it and come across a champagne-colored object. It’s made of the smoothest silk I’ve ever felt. I hold it up, studying the zip on the side, and the delicate embroidered seams in gold-colored thread.
