Chapter 52
FIFTY-TWO
Jez
THE HOUSE WAS EVERY bit as big as it looked from the outside.
We’d entered through a patio door on the left side, leading into a library with dark wooden shelves built into every wall.
My mouth fell open as I took in the couches and comfy chairs scattered around, along with the huge fireplace, just as I’d imagined it—right down to the fur rug.
“Oh, my god,” I breathed, rushing to examine the titles on the nearest shelf. “Knox really owns all these books?”
“Yeah,” Gage confirmed. “He’s probably even read some of them, at some point. Hey, Heath—this place has an elevator somewhere around here, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Heath confirmed.
“I know I can’t manage the stairs, but no way do I want to miss Jez seeing her nest.”
Heath grunted. “You just want me to push you around like I’m your personal nurse.”
Gage snickered like a schoolboy. “Well, I mean... that, too.”
“Asshole,” Heath told him, not sounding mad about it. “You know I owe you five-star concierge service for the rest of my goddamned life, if you want it. Let’s go, then. Do you want to grab some books first, Jez?”
I blinked a couple of times. “Can I?”
“Kitten,” Gage said. “You live here now.”
“You can do pretty much whatever you like,” Heath added, “as long as it doesn’t involve grievous bodily harm.”
I flushed, but again, there was no heat behind the words. Feeling like a thief, I darted back to the bookshelf and grabbed as many books as I could carry, more or less at random.
“Didn’t realize you were a closet bookworm,” Gage said.
My cheeks heated further. “Libraries are good places to hang out for a few hours. They’re warm in the winter, pretty safe usually, and no one throws you out as long as you’re reading and not making trouble.”
“Huh,” Gage said, considering. “Guess I never thought about it like that.”
Affection buffeted me from two directions through the bond, sending a pleasant shiver down my body.
“All right,” Heath said, wheeling Gage toward the door. “Nest first. We’ll do a proper tour later.”
The mansion was two stories tall, but Heath had mentioned downstairs, so that made three, total.
Compared to the old Victorian pack house with its winding hallways and steep staircases, it felt very open and airy.
The central spaces were mostly painted white with the occasional brilliant blue accent, and the main part of the house was dominated by a staircase that reminded me of something you might find in a fancy modern art museum.
Public museums were another good place to spend time when you had nowhere else to go. I’d done extensive research on places like that over the years.
Anyway, the main staircase must have cost a fortune all on its own.
It was curved rather than angular—a twisting banister made of intricate wrought iron spiraling gently upward and downward in the open center of the house.
A massive skylight poured warm illumination over the blonde wood of the stair treads.
Heath bypassed the stairs and wheeled Gage into a little nook tucked behind the grandeur, where there was, indeed, an elevator.
“This is mostly for moving furniture and other heavy stuff,” he explained. “But it’ll work for a wheelchair, too—and obviously you can use it anytime you want to, Jez.”
I couldn’t imagine choosing to ride in a little box instead of using that beautiful staircase, but I managed a meek, “Okay,” in response.
We piled in and Heath hit the bottom of the three buttons. The elevator smoothly slipped downward. My stomach barely had time to dip and bounce back up before it dinged and the doors opened.
I caught my breath as I stepped out. The main floor had been all open air and big windows and natural light. I wasn’t immune to its beauty, but my omega instincts made me feel exposed, surrounded by all that space.
The downstairs—it seemed insulting to call it a basement—was completely different.
The ceiling was made of arched brick, which seemed sort of weird at first, until I realized that it was made to look like an old subway tunnel or an ancient wine cellar.
The lighting was plenty to see by, but there was no glare.
It was more reddish orange than yellow, giving the space an intimate feel.
“Down here, the north wing is mostly taken up by the indoor pool, hot tub, gym, and sauna,” Heath said, as though he wasn’t speaking a foreign language.
“By the... what?” I squeaked.
Gage made a derisive noise and rolled his eyes. “I know, right? Rich people are really something else.”
“The central area behind us has the underground garage and HVAC stuff,” Heath went on, as though we hadn’t spoken.
“It’s fully soundproofed and has a separate ventilation system, so you won’t have any sounds or smells bothering you.
The south wing is partly storage, though as far as I know it’s not being used for anything; just empty.
The rest of it is your nest. Tony went a little bit overboard trying to get things ready. ”
“Aww,” Gage said. “Holy shit, that’s so sweet.”
“But you can make it up any way you’d like,” Heath finished. “Knox made you an expense account at Nestique, so you can buy anything you need online and it will be delivered same-day.”
“But—” I began, overwhelm beginning to overcome me.
Heath let go of the wheelchair and took my shoulders in his hands, waiting until I looked up at him helplessly.
“I know it’s a foreign concept,” he said, “but money is literally no object. Look around you. This is not the second house of a man who has to worry about the cost of nesting materials.”
But I tried to kill him, I wanted to say. We’d already had that conversation, though. I swallowed the words back with difficulty, and nodded instead.
Heath let out a sharp sigh and leaned down, pressing a kiss to my hair. A callused hand circled my forearm and gave a gentle squeeze, redirecting my attention to Gage. He tugged me down and kissed the same place Heath had.
I pressed my lips together tightly and gave another nod, steadying my pile of borrowed books against my chest.
“Let’s go,” Heath said softly. “Don’t want to keep Tony waiting.”
Just like upstairs, the elevator was tucked behind the grand staircase.
I could smell the faintest hint of chlorinated water in the air from the pool, but it disappeared as Heath led us toward the south wing.
We passed a game room and a comfortable-looking family room before turning the corner to find Tony pacing restlessly in front of a closed door. He turned sharply as we approached.
“Hi!” he said nervously. “You’re... um..
. you’re here! That’s good.” He ran a hand through his messy dark hair, mussing it further.
“So, I tried to get things ready for you, Jez, but I was only going off of internet sites about nesting—so if you hate it, you can totally say so and it won’t hurt my feelings—”
“I’m not going to hate it,” I told him, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. “Can I see?”
Tony rolled his lower lip between his teeth and nodded, pulling the door open and stepping out of the way.
I crept forward, bolstered by the warmth coming through the bond, and poked my head inside to look.
Tears immediately burned against the back of my eyes.
The pile of books I was carrying dropped from my hands as I covered my mouth to hold in the pitiful whimper that wanted to escape.
Beyond the door lay a low-ceilinged room that was easily big enough for half a dozen people, while still seeming utterly intimate. Pretty stained-glass lamps with red shades were dotted around the edges of the room on tables, and fairy lights twinkled softly from the ceiling.
There was hardly a square foot of floor not covered by piles of pillows, beanbags, furry blankets, and low, overstuffed furniture.
Only one side of the room was relatively bare, where another of the big fireplaces stood on a raised hearth, surrounded by a protective grate and with yet another heavy fur rug thrown in front of it.
I realized that some of the reassuring scent of whiskey, oak, and baking bread was coming from the room in front of me, not just the men standing behind me.
As if in a trance, I walked deeper inside until I found the first item of clothing hidden among the pillows and blankets—a worn henley that had seen better days, and smelled like Christmas morning.
Unable to help myself, I picked it up and held it to my nose, breathing in.
“Is it okay?” Tony asked, hovering just outside the door.
“I... it’s...” My throat closed up, choking off the words in the instant before the tears I’d been holding back escaped in an ugly sob.
“I’m sorry!” Tony said, his voice going high-pitched and upset. “Seriously, you can change it if you don’t like it—I didn’t mean to—”
“Tony,” Heath said. “They’re good tears. You did an amazing job.”
“That you did, cub,” Gage added. “You ever think about getting into interior decorating? Because this room looks fantastic, and she loves it.”
“Oh.” Tony sounded like all the air had escaped his lungs at once. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“Can we come inside with you, kitten?” Gage asked. “People are always supposed to get permission from you for that, by the way.”
Permission. People had to ask permission before they could come into my nest.
The tears came harder.
“Yes,” I sobbed.
In short order, Tony picked up the dropped books and set them on a table.
Heath wheeled Gage in, moving enough pillows out of the way to get him to the nearest couch and help him onto it.
Heath took me by the shoulders and eased me down to lie next to him, with my head pillowed on his uninjured thigh.
Gage immediately started running his fingers through my hair, a rumbling purr vibrating up from his chest.
Heath lifted my feet and slid in to sit as well, resting my lower legs across his lap.
Tony hesitated, then sank down on the pillows and blankets in front of us, resting his head on the edge of the seat near my stomach.
Needing to thank him somehow for what he’d done, I carefully pushed my fingers into his messy hair, mirroring what Gage was doing to me.
After a moment, Tony sighed, all the tension draining out of him.
The silence settled over us, warm and heavy until Heath’s quiet words pierced it.
“You’re home, Jez,” he said. “We all are. Maybe now that we’ve got some breathing space, we can figure out the rest of it.”