Page 79 of Falling for the Enemy

The great room was another living room, but this one was more lived in than the first sitting room he showed her. It had an enormous sectional, a gas fireplace, and fur throws draped about.

Soren’s color palette, she realized, regardless of the room, was dark and masculine, much like his wardrobe.

The kitchen was at the back of the house, through a stone arch and down a narrow hall. The walls leading there were dressed with framed black-and-white photos of Hawthorne fishing vessels through the decades.

“These are neat.”

“They’re reproductions. The originals are in the maritime museum.”

The kitchen, unlike the other formal rooms, smelled lived in. Proof of life showed in the travel mug by the sink and the hand towel draped over the oven handle. A state-of-the-art espresso machine dominated the black marble countertops, and crisply folded, custom embroidered linens sat in a basket by the gorgeous farm sink. The place was still more of a hotel than a home, but Soren had never been one to pass up luxury.

“You look thirsty. Let’s get you something to drink, then I’ll show you the upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” For some reason, the thought of seeing upstairs made her nervous. They did better in foyers and common areas.

“I’m just going to let the dogs in.”

All of her earlier reservations took a backseat to this odd sense of displacement. Despite knowing Soren for more than half her life, this was the first time she ever got an intimate look at the inside of his world.

She regretted bringing Cordelia, fearful she might piss on some priceless piece of art. This wasn’t a place for animals any more than it was a place for someone who left laundry sitting in the washer for six cycles before remembering to move it to the dryer.

Did Soren even have a dryer? He probably had a laundry service. Clothes just reappeared in his closet, fresh and pressed, and he never had to worry how they got there.

The luxury didn’t startle her. She knew he was rich. And wealth didn’t bother her either. To some, she was wealthy. But this level of comfort was something else entirely.

This was dumb money. Generational fortunes piled on top of generational fortunes. It wasn’t pretentious or gaudy or garish, but it was also unlike anything she’d ever seen.

His childhood home had been more lived in and dated. This was new and flawless, like the set of a movie.

He laughed. “You look constipated.”

She stopped staring and scowled at him. “Fuck off.”

“It’s just a house, Joce.”

“It’s not, and you know it.”

He tried not to smirk, but the cocky bastard failed.

She rolled her eyes. “You get off on being ostentatious.”

“I like impressing you.”

“Who says I’m impressed?”

“Deny it all you want. Your silence tells me everything I need to know.”

“Okay, settle down, Miss Cleo. I’m not that easy to read.”

“You’re impressed.” He pulled a small shovel out of a drawer and dug into an airtight can, dumping giant kibble rocks into a dog bowl that could double as a baby pool.

At the third scoop, Jocelyn’s eyes widened. “How much are you feeding him?”

“I feed him exactly what the vet recommends. He’s a big boy.”

She was still stunned he got a dog. But for as large as King was, he didn’t seem like much of an alpha. When Cordelia marched over to investigate the bowl, King dropped to his haunches and deferred to the queen.

“King, eat.”