Millionaire Mavericks. Jennifer Lewis
she said, “It’s from Tara, my assistant.”
He gestured to the nonalcoholic drink. “I guess it’s safe to say she knows you’re pregnant.”
“She’s my best friend. I tell her everything.” Well, almost everything.
“That’s sad,” he said.
“What? That I tell her everything?”
“No, that you have to pay someone to be your best friend.”
How did he always manage to hit the rawest nerve? But she refused to let him know that he’d hurt her feelings. She lifted her nose at him and said, “That’s a little hypocritical coming from a man who had to buy his wife.”
She braced herself for a sarcastic comeback, but instead, the hint of a smile tipped up the corner of his mouth, catching her off guard.
“Your room is on the second floor,” he said. He backtracked through the house to where he left her bag by the stairs. He grabbed it and started up, and she followed him.
“Dry cleaning is picked up and dropped off Mondays and Thursdays. It will be your responsibility to see that it’s left on the porch.”
“Fine.”
“I have a cleaning service in Monday, Wednesday and Friday.”
“What about a cook?”
“I’m not home enough to warrant it. I usually eat out or order in. But if you want to hire someone, I won’t object. And of course when we move, we’ll need a full-time staff.” He led her to the first room on the left. As far as she could see, there were three other bedrooms.
It was a typical spare bedroom, with genderneutral furnishings and decor, but Tara had placed several of her things from her bedroom at her father’s estate around the room. Photos and keepsakes mostly, as well as her books.
She peered into the walk-in closet and saw that Tara had also arranged all of her clothes and shoes, and in the bathroom she found her makeup and toiletries.
Mitch stood in the doorway watching her. “Is it satisfactory?”
It was more than adequate, but she said, “I suppose, if this is the best you can do.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Well, the master suite is larger, but then, you would have to share it with me.”
Like that would ever happen. “Where is your room?”
“Why? Are you planning another midnight visit?”
“Actually, I need to know so I can avoid it.”
He flashed another wry grin. “End of the hall on the right. The third floor is the den and my office. I would appreciate it if you didn’t go up there.”
Which meant that would be the first place she investigated.
“Just up the road is the community center. There’s an exercise room and tennis courts. There’s also a pool, although I’ll warn you that bathing suits are not optional. Unless you want to get yourself arrested.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll only walk around naked inside the house.”
He didn’t look as though he believed her, which would make actually doing it all the more fun.
“I’ll need a space for Tara to work.”
“She can have the room across the hall. I’ll call my real estate agent so we can start house hunting.”
She still didn’t see the need for anything bigger than this, but he was the one paying the bills, so who was she to argue? “I’d like to unpack and change, and I have a few phone calls to make,” she told him.
“Okay,” he said, but he didn’t move. At her questioning look he added, “Oh, did you want me to leave?”
“Please.”
“I should probably check in with my girlfriend, anyway. Let her know I arrived home safely.”
She wondered if he really did have a girlfriend, then figured he probably just said he did to annoy her. If he cheated on her and her father found out, Mitch could kiss his support goodbye. She smiled sweetly and said, “You mean the girlfriend who needs occasional reinflation?”
He smirked. “I’ll be unpacking if you need me,” he said as he left, closing the door behind him.
She sat on the bed and looked around. She would have to thank Tara for setting up her room. It made her feel a lot less like an interloper.
She turned on her cell phone and found she had half a dozen messages from her father and two from Tara. Since she wasn’t quite ready to face her father yet, she called Tara first. They hadn’t spoken since before the kitchen disaster—she’d been too embarrassed to admit how she had botched Tara’s seemingly simple instructions.
She dialed and Tara answered on the first ring. “Welcome home! Did you see your surprise?”
“I did, thanks. And thank you for arranging all of my personal things.”
“I’d love to take credit, but that was your husband’s idea.”
It was weird enough when she thought of Mitch as her husband, but to hear someone else say it felt like the final nail in her coffin. “That must have been before he decided he hates my guts.”
“Oh, my gosh! What happened? I thought things were going really well.”
“They were. He didn’t even seem to care that I completely botched breakfast, flooded the kitchen, and nearly burned the house down making dinner. And the sex? Amazing. Everything was great, right up until the second I told him I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, no, Lex. Was he really that upset?”
“I don’t think it was the baby so much as the fact that he thinks it’s Lance’s.”
“He what!?” she shrieked, obviously outraged. “You told him the truth, right?”
“There didn’t seem to be much point. I doubt he would have believed me. He apparently thinks he knows the kind of person I am. I figure, why shatter his illusion?”
“Oh, Lex, I’m so sorry.”
“I guess the worst part was that I thought for the first time in my life, someone really saw me, you know? I thought he cared.” Lexi was mortified to realize that she was welling up. Enough of this. She had to pull herself together.
“Maybe if you told him the truth—”
“There’s no point now. I can never trust him again.”
“You’re going to have to tell him eventually.”
Yes, but for now, she would make him suffer a bit. Make him as miserable as she was. “Could we talk about something else?”
“Sure, Lex,” she said, sounding hurt. Why did it feel as though whatever Lexi said or did, it was never right?
They talked briefly about setting up a temporary office for Tara in the townhouse, and then she called her father.
In lieu of hello, he snapped, “Why didn’t you call? You should have been home hours ago.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “Hi, Dad, nice to talk to you, too.” But she had never had the courage to speak to him that way. One wrong move and he might shut her out completely. Stop calling altogether.
“Our flight was delayed due to bad weather,” she said. “We just got home.”
“Well, I was concerned.”
Just not concerned enough about her to come to her wedding, or call her while she was in Greece.
“Would a call have been too much trouble?” he asked sharply.
She