Had I really been about to take Lexi to my room?

How had it not once occurred to me that she would need a room of her own? Work must have had me more distracted than I thought. It wasn’t like we’d ever slept in the same room before, so of course, she wouldn’t be staying with me in the master bedroom.

And I didn’t want her to.

Fuck, no.

“Yeah, to your bedroom,” I answered her curtly. “But we can have sleepovers in my room anytime you want.”

I grinned to myself when she muttered heated Russian under her breath, no doubt cursing me backwards and forwards. I really needed to learn Russian.

I briefly paused at the top of the stairs, mentally cataloguing each of the five guest rooms and determining which would be the most appropriate for her. Remembering the way she’d marveled at the waterfront view from the living room, I chose one of the only two bedrooms that faced the water. The slightly more feminine one of the two. The color scheme of the bedding and décor was softer, paler.

Pale like Lexi’s skin.

Pastel blues and creams complemented the light streaming in through the windows, making the room bright and airy. When my mom and sister Gia helped me decorate the bedrooms, they’d argued that at least one room needed to feel slightly less masculine.

The only problem with this room?

It was right next to mine.

And why the hell did I even care to give her a room with a view? Why did I give two shits whether or not she was satisfied with her sleeping arrangements?

Because she’ll be easier to deal with and more likely to stay out of your hair if she’s happy.

Yeah, that’s what it was.

She gasped when I opened the door to the room. Practically knocking me into the wall, she pushed past me and twirled around in a circle. Pausing in the center of the area rug, she gazed up in awe at the crystal chandelier above her head. Yet another design choice from Mom and Gia. The armoire and small writing desk in the corner were both constructed of a light-colored wood. The nightstands were mirrored, a look that screamed femininity to me. And there was a beige sitting chair placed near the windows.

That was the first time Lexi ever hit me with a genuine smile. The very first one I’d ever received from her.

Something weird happened then.

An invisible fist sucker-punched me. The weird part was that it didn’t hurt or feel bad in any way. It felt similar to…relief.

I was relieved that she liked her room? I mean, it certainly hadn’t upset me that she’d gotten all googly-eyed over the living room and pool. Her pleased reaction just meant that we could avoid another fight, and that was a relief.

I shifted on my feet, waving around the room. “Does it meet your approval? I know it’s nothing compared to the luxury of your pampered mafia princess existence. But will it suffice?”

That bright, toothy smile vanished from her face so fast, you’d have thought I’d just kicked her puppy.

Now, it kind of hurt. That invisible fist.

And this time it was more of a gut-twisting sensation. As if someone had reached inside me, clamped their hand down on my intestines, and strangled them.

I don’t even know what made me say that. My natural instinct was to be a smartass to her. To be a dick. It was my default behavior toward women because it served to keep them at a distance. It ensured they would never want more from me, never ask too much of me. It was a reflex now more than anything.

Besides, keeping us on opposite sides of friendly seemed safer.

She pushed her shoulders back, the blue of her eyes noticeably dulling. Definitely not as luminous as it had been downstairs. “I suppose it will do.”

“Feel free to decorate it however you wish. Just run any major alterations by me first.” I ignored her stunned expression and pointed toward the en suite bathroom. “The closet is through there. I presume you’ll let me know if it’s not big enough.”

Brushing past me into the room, she said over her shoulder, “You’ll get a bill if I have to knock out a wall.”

I snorted. “Speaking of.” I leaned against the bathroom door frame, watching as she inspected the shower and vanity. “I’ll leave cash for you to buy whatever you need. Clothes, electronic devices…feminine products.”

I cringed at the realization that there would be tampons inside my house. Christ.

“You’re offering to buy me things?”

Why did she sound offended? “I assume you couldn’t fit everything into those three suitcases, however large they might be. Feel free to purchase whatever you’ll need for the next several weeks.”

“I don’t need your money,” she snapped.

I saw her jaw clenching in the vanity mirror’s reflection. “I know it’s a hard pill to swallow, but for the time being, it’s technically our money, legs.”

Spinning back around, she planted her hands firmly on her hips.

Ah, there’s the stubborn and sass. For a second there, I thought she’d packed them away for the winter.

“I won’t be kept by a man. You should know that right now.”

I scrubbed my hand down my face, weariness setting in. “Jesus, is that what you think I’m doing?”

“This isn’t a real marriage. There’s no need for you to pay for me.”

I pushed off the door frame on a surge of frustration. My long legs ate up the distance between us. I stopped just short of thrusting her up against the sink with my hips. “You’re no more or less trapped in this situation than I am,” I rasped. “Neither of us want it, neither of us are happy about it. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that we’re bound together for the duration of this deal. You’re my responsibility, which means I buy whatever shit you need. That’s part of my job here.”

“There you go again,” she mused. “Sounding almost honorable.”

I sneered at the implication. “Don’t worry. You’ll learn soon enough that it’s quite the opposite.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” I pounded back toward the door. “I’ll leave cash and my business card with my cell number on the kitchen counter.”

“You’re leaving?”

Was that disappointment I heard?

No, never. Probably just nerves. She’d been trying to hide them all day.

“I told you I have business.”

“At seven o’clock at night?”

I glanced back at her, grinning crookedly. “Already the nagging wife?”

She looked away, pursing her lips, but said nothing.

“My business never stops, legs. Don’t worry, I won’t be gone too long.”

“Lucky me,” she retorted dryly. “Have a nice night, pretty boy.”

She flipped her blond hair and disappeared back inside the bathroom.

This having a wife business was a giant pain in the ass.