Chapter Seventeen
Christian
W ho knew setting up house with Roxy could be so... enlightening ?
I knew she liked to read romance novels, but…she really really likes to read romance novels. I’ve never seen so many books that include words like duke , fae , grump , and billionaire in the titles .
I tucked one of the latter bad boys inside the waistband of my jeans to read later. For research, of course.
I’m hidden back in the guest bedroom where she’ll sleep, loading up her bookshelf. Roxy insisted on putting her things away in the kitchen, claiming she could find her way around just fine without me. She then put me to the task of unpacking her boxes of books onto this rickety old plywood piece of junk. It took way longer than necessary to assemble the thing simply because I was afraid the boards would split under the pressure of attaching them. The shelves themselves bow under the weight of what I’m sure are pricey hardbacks. I frown at the way these beautiful books are dwarfed by this peeling, fake monstrosity. It doesn’t even look big enough to hold all these boxes of books. She has to be stacking them sideways or something.
Nope. This won’t do at all.
I stash the book I've decided to borrow from her in my nightstand before heading her way.
“Hey, Roxy?” I say, venturing down the hall toward the kitchen. My place isn’t huge, but I know she’ll hear me by the way the acoustics allow for voices to carry.
Her dark-haired head peeks over the top of a lower kitchen cabinet. “Yes?”
“Do you have an emotional attachment to that bookshelf of yours?”
Her brow furrows as she stands. “Um. No? I guess not?”
“Perfect. You won’t mind if I buy you a new one, then?”
Something passes through her eyes, but I can’t tell what. “Listen, Chris.” She braces her hands on the marble countertop. “I appreciate you footing the bill for the wedding and the reception, even the honeymoon suite. But buying me new furniture? That’s just...too much.”
I completely disagree with her but decide to tread lightly. I don’t want to upset her or yet again make her feel uncomfortable with our arrangement.
“Okay. Can I buy myself a new bookshelf, then?”
Her mouth curves with the hint of a smile. “Are you saying the bookshelf I bought with my very first paycheck is too ugly for your perfect little penthouse?”
My own grin widens. “I didn’t use the word ugly, though it does seem to fit.”
Her light and airy laugh breaks free as she rolls her eyes. “Fine. You win. I’ll come disassemble Holden.”
“Holden?”
A deep rose blush pinks her tan cheeks. “Yeah. Because he’s... holden all my books.”
A surprised laugh wheezes out of me, syncing up with her own as she attempts to move past me down the hall. I stop her with a light hand on her wrist. “Wait. I’ll do it. I promise to put Holden back just the way I found him, then haul his ugly peeling butt back to storage.”
Her dark eyes sparkle with barely contained amusement as she fakes a deep, reluctant sigh. “All right. If you insist.”
“I really, really do.”
She shakes her head with another laugh and heads back to the kitchen.
Forty minutes later, I’ve got another fully assembled bookshelf delivered from my favorite high-end furniture store.
“Wow,” Roxy breathes from where she’s leaning against the doorframe, eyeing my handiwork. “When you say bookshelf, you mean book shelves .”
I turn away so she doesn’t see my grin. “May I introduce Holden’s long-lost, beefier brother: Armstrong.” An adorable laugh bubbles out of Roxy, and she covers her mouth with her hand. “Okay, so maybe I’m not as skilled at naming inanimate objects as you are, but you needed more shelving. After unpacking all those books, I’m not sure how you got most of them to fit on Holden.”
That rosy tint fills her face once again. “I may have had to stack piles of books on the floor next to him.”
I tsk while crossing my arms. “You mean to tell me you relegated those daring dukes of yours to the floor ?”
Her mouth pops open, amusement and something else—embarrassment, maybe—igniting a light within her eyes. “You looked at my books ?”
Now I’m the one who is embarrassed. She says it like I peeked at her underwear when I unzipped her dress last night. Which I will swear on my death bed that I did not do. I push those images from my mind and try for a disarming smile.
“It was kind of hard not to when I was tasked with putting them away. Do I need to remind you that you gave me this job?”
She tries and fails to ward off a smile. “No reminder necessary. Though I’m done with the kitchen, so I’ll be taking over the rest of the unpacking.”
I motion to the bookshelves. “Well, this is all done. All that’s left is the stuff you’ll be unpacking in my room.”
Her throat bobs on a swallow as she tucks a dark lock of hair behind her ear. “Right. I’ll uh, just get on that, then.”
She moves past me to head to my room, and a waft of whatever perfume she wears momentarily arrests my senses. It’s some mixture of vanilla and jasmine, edged with a deeply decadent hint of musk. Whatever it is, I want to bury my face in it and take a deep inhale. That urge alone is what keeps me from joining her in my bedroom. I stop at the threshold and shove my hands in my pockets.
“You can use any of the drawers on the right side,” I say. “I cleared those out for you.”
She briefly meets my eyes before ripping one of her boxes open. “Thanks.”
“Same with the vanity drawers in the bathroom. And you can have the entire right side of the walk-in closet. All my stuff has been moved to the left.”
Her hands still on the sides of the cardboard box. “Figures you’d be assigning me a certain side.” She punctuates her statement with a breathy scoff.
“Hey,” I say, mildly offended. “What’s wrong with being organized?”
“Nothing.” She shakes her head, but there’s a hint of mockery in her tone. “I knew the second I walked in here that being neat and orderly were high on your priority list.”
“Excuse me for being neat .”
All the laughter leaves her voice as she starts removing articles of clothing from the box. “I’m going to warn you now—Axel is messy.”
“Teenagers usually are.”
“I’m messy, too.” When her emerald eyes meet mine with a pleading look, I realize this isn’t the time for jokes.
“I can handle it,” I promise her, holding her gaze.
She slowly lifts another pile of clothes from the box and sets it in the open drawer. “Just so you know, Axel bucks authority at every turn. I’m pretty much the only person he’ll listen to anymore.”
“Understood. But you should know that I have no intention of lording over your nephew while he’s here. This isn’t just my home anymore; it’s yours and his too.”
Roxy’s shoulders slump, along with my confidence. I’d hoped to reassure her, yet somehow, I messed up.
“I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing where I went wrong. “I didn’t mean—”
“Please don’t be sorry.” Her unexpectedly watery gaze connects with mine.
“If I said something to upset you—”
“You didn’t, Chris, I promise.” Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she lets loose a sobbing laugh. “I just don’t know why you’re being so nice to us. We don’t—I don’t—deserve your patience. Your kindness.”
I immediately want to correct her. I’m hardly a kind man to those who’ve wronged me or the ones I love. But the only thing I feel necessary to comment on is her low self-esteem. “Something tells me you’re wrong about you not deserving kindness.”
She sniffles and swipes at her tears again. “I’m not. I haven’t been a good person all my life. Not like you. My history is full of wrong turns and selfish choices.” Another sputtering laugh bubbles from her chest. “And look, I’m still making selfish choices. I married you just to help my chances of adopting Axel. You don’t deserve to be strapped with us for who knows how long just so I can accomplish that.”
“Hey,” I say, dropping to my knee in front of her. When she refuses to meet my eyes, I gently lift her chin with my knuckles. “I am not strapped with either of you.”
Her big, greenish-brown eyes blink up at me. “You might change your mind after living with us for a few weeks.”
I smile. “Well, I haven’t gotten to know Axel yet to refute your claim, but I have gotten to know you. And you’re easy to love, Roxy. You’re smart and funny, witty with a whip-quick sense of humor. You’re beautiful and alluring.” My gaze involuntarily lowers to her mouth. Before any wicked thoughts have time to fully form, I skip my eyes to hers. “And I’m sorry to correct you, but I think you’re confusing selfishness with dedication to your family. You care about what happens to Axel, and that is why you married me.”
She blinks and sniffles again, giving me time to finish with, “Besides, I’m the one who asked you to enter into this arrangement. Don’t get it twisted. If anyone is selfish in this marriage...” Again, my attention fixates on her sensual, bow-shaped lips. It takes every bit of willpower I possess to tear my eyes away just so I can finish my thought. “It’s me.”
Her breath catches, and for an instant, I wonder if she’d let me kiss her. It’s a stupid thought. One that shouldn’t have even entered my brain. But we’re so close that the lingering hint of berries on her breath teases me to take a taste for myself.
But I can’t.
We’re alone, with no one to convince. And I promised her no physical affection. Not even if every cell in my body begs me to sweep her up in my arms and comfort her.
I slowly ease myself away and put distance between us. “You okay?”
She gives me a shaky nod. “Yeah.”
“All right.” Getting to my feet, I head for the hall. “If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen. How does tomato soup and grilled cheese sound for lunch?”
She clears her throat, refusing to meet my eyes. “Um. Good.”
“Okay.” I knock my knuckles against the doorframe. Once. Twice. Still, she won’t look at me. “I’ll, uh, call you when it’s done.”
With that, I leave her alone and pray I didn’t let my earlier thoughts of kissing her bleed into my expression.