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I couldn’t help but steal a peek into the stepchild office as we passed it.

I stopped in my tracks, swiveled on a heel, and leaned into the room, eyeing every corner.

“How the fuck did you do this?” I asked her, tilting my head around and down to get a proper look at her smug face.

“It’s just a room. And you were right. Most of the boxes were full of books, and every wall is lined with bookshelves. It wasn’t hard to do the math.”

I looked back at the nearly cleared space. The walls were a nice pale blue color, the built-in bookshelves a soft gray. It had been so long since I’d seen them that I’d forgotten. Nearly every shelf was lined with books now, most of them mine. The room was brighter, windows uncovered now, blinds opened wide to let in the sun.

I glanced down at the floor. It was a dark gray wood, like the majority of the house, but I hadn’t seen it in so long that it was startling.

“I guess I was wrong about the TV and the sofa,” I mused, still taking it all in. “Just a chair and desk. Hmm. Don’t worry, I’ll have that fixed by tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t want a sofa or a TV. I don’t plan to do anything but work in here. I will, however, need some kind of computer.”

“Of course,” I murmured, back to studying her. She was a determined little thing. I decided that I found that endearing. “What did you do with all of the empty boxes?” I asked her.

She curled her pouty upper lip, and I could tell I’d offended her. “I broke them down and put them in your garage. It wasn’t hard to find, and I’m fairly confident I’ll be able to successfully navigate any future recycling. How about that tour?”

I thought about reminding her who the boss was here, but decided against it.

For the moment.

“Right this way,” I told her blandly, leading her to her side of the house.

I took her to her room first. Or rather, rooms.

It was set far away from the center of the house, on the second floor, for optimum privacy, and it was designed as a master, almost as large as mine. She had her own sitting room, mini-kitchen, a king-sized, four-poster bed, and a closet that belonged on Cribs. Her en suite bath was obscenely huge, with a Jacuzzi tub, all the amenities, and marble everywhere you looked.

Frankly, I expected some reaction. It was a hell of an assistant’s pad.

Her response was less than gratifying. “Hmm,” she hummed after I’d shown her everything. “It’s a bit large. I have no idea what anyone could ever do with all this space.”

I’d had no intention of giving her a detailed tour, I knew she could explore her way around, but the way she was so obviously unimpressed had me showing her every detail of my house.

Every room, every piece of art, every expensive toy.

Perversity had always been a good fit for me.

I was nearly finished not impressing her with her wing of the house when I noticed the expression on her face.

She wasn’t just unimpressed. She was bored.

Now that, I could fix.

I showed her my wing of the house, starting with my favorite part.

It was near the front door, for obvious reasons.

“This is the sex room,” I explained, waving my hand around at the twelve hundred square feet of hedonistic delight. “Conveniently close to the kitchen and the front door, so no one goes hungry and no one gets lost on their way out.”

A giant bed dominated the space, but it wasn’t the beginning and end of the versatile room.

Several bookshelves lined the walls. They were full of every kind of sexual literature, from Kama Sutra to modern erotica. And of course there was no shortage of sex furniture, all attached to a bathroom with a shower most school gyms would envy in size.

“Your sex room?” she repeated back, but she didn’t look bored now.

She looked perturbed. Disgusted. Riled. So much so, she wasn’t even blushing.