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It wasn’t just that she’d fallen in love with him, it was that she’dtrustedhim, and that was no small consideration with Abby. She’d been wary of men her whole life, determined not to be used like her mom had been, determined not to let someone close unless they were really special. But she’d made a mistake.
He might be angry at her but she had just as much right to be angry at him, even if he was weaving a strange kind of family-version Cinderella story for their daughter.
“Play, play!” Charlotte insisted, pointing across the room.
“Okay,” Abby nodded a little uneasily. “Go and have a look.”
The little girl ran on unsteady legs towards the corner then plonked down, pulling toys off the shelves and examining each in turn.
Abby watched, heart in her throat, as the reality of what they were doing settled around her. This was home now.
Gray gestured into the corridor, and she stepped back, watching as he secured the baby gate in place.
“Everything in here is safe for Charlotte. I had professionals install it,” he reassured.
“So quickly too.”
“I made the call as soon as you left yesterday.”
“And all this –,” she gestured into the room, frowning.
“It’s nothing.”
“To you, perhaps. We didn’t all grow up as little lords of the manor.”
He studied her thoughtfully. “Is it too much?”
The question undid something in the region of her heart. That he was asking her showed a hint of uncertainty, and she hadn’t expected that.
“It’s just…Charlotte has so few toys, and those she does have, I had to work hard for. She’s going to think she’s died and gone to heaven.”
“I might have gone a little over the top,” he conceded, but with a rueful expression that made it impossible to mind. “I told the decorator to buy everything a little girl could want.”
“Evidently, she took you at your word,” Abby said, but to her surprise, smiled, as she took in the doll’s house, the small table set up with crayons and paper, the Duplo blocks. It was quite phenomenal.
“I chose this room because there’s no window. It felt safer,” he explained, surprising her with the concern. “You hear horror stories about kids and high-rises.”
“Not often,” she couldn’t help rebutting. “And they do have this miraculous thing called locks.”
She was teasing him. It was close to flirting. Damn it, that wasn’t what they were anymore. But it was so easy to slip back into old habits!
“Not worth the risk,” he said with a shrug, leaning against the wall. “Do you want a tour?”
Her heart thumped. Not with him. “I can have a look later. I remember most of it.”
Heat flushed her cheeks. Because in the past, her experience of his penthouse had largely been limited to the living areas, the beautiful wrap-around deck with infinity pool, and his bedroom. Betrayingly, her eyes flitted down the corridor, towards his door, before she could wrench them back.
“Choose whatever room you want,” he said. “Except for that one,” he jerked his thumb towards his own room, his eyes finding hers, locking to them, suggestion in the timbre of his voice and the heat of his eyes.
She quickly looked away, a tight smile on her lips. “I need a coffee.”
It was a swift, inelegant conversation change, but it did the job.
“Are you happy with Charlotte playing in there?”
She turned towards their daughter, who hadn’t looked up since discovering the nirvana of her bedroom.
“She’ll call out if she wants me,” Abby said with a nod.
