14. The Co-habitation
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE CO-HABITATION
Orion
I’m not sure how it’s possible, but the temperature has soared even more as we make our way back to my Bentley Continental—a car that Chase, my brother, sold to me a couple of years ago.
I still give him shit for charging me the market rate, but I needed a car in case I couldn’t drive my bike.
Layla and I are quiet on the drive back to her house, and I don’t bother making conversation. She needs space to process everything, so I play a Sleep Token album and let her zone out. When we pull up to her house, I jump out and open her door. The least I can do is make sure she gets inside okay. Despite not wanting to leave her alone today, I know she needs it.
When she unlocks the door, her cat Sparrow comes running to the front door… as does a wave of dry, stuffy heat.
“Crap,” she mutters, leaning down and reaching for him and picking him up. “Did the AC go out again?” she asks him as if he can answer. “You must be so uncomfortable. I’m so sorry, love,” she tells him, nuzzling her face into his.
Lucky fucking cat.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She sighs and walks over to her thermostat after setting Sparrow down. “No. It’s eighty-seven degrees in here—my AC has been on the brink of collapse for a while.” She looks away as her cheeks heat. “I had some guy here a month ago, and he charged me four hundred dollars to tell me I needed a new unit, but I don’t have eight thousand lying around for a new one. I was hoping it would last me through the summer… it’s an old house?—”
“I have a guy. I’ll have him come take a look.” I already have my phone out, and I’m texting the contractor I use for household things.
“No, that’s okay. I know there’s financing available. I’m just not sure how soon he can get here.” She looks at Sparrow with knitted brows.
I step forward and place my hands on her shoulders. “Layla, let me take care of this. Let me take this one thing off your plate.”
She sighs and gives me a weak smile. “Fine. Thank you.”
“Does he have a carrier?” I ask, squatting down and petting the cat that looks like it got electrocuted. Layla cocks her head, and I continue. “You’re coming to stay with me.”
She stands up taller and crosses her arms. “No, that’s okay. I’ll just go to Dad’s?—”
“I have a pool,” I say smoothly, smirking. “Plus, Scott has the dog door that Sparrow climbed out of that one time.” I refer to the time Layla stayed at her dad’s for a couple of nights while she had her house painted. Sparrow had figured out how to climb through the dog door they’d put in for their old dog. Her dad hadn’t ever closed it up, and the cover was nowhere to be found.
“Yeah, you’re right. Are you sure it’s okay?”
I shrug. “It’s probably better if you stay with me, anyway. That way when Scott is ready to be picked up, we can go together.”
“Okay. Yeah. Let me just grab a few things. Sparrow has a carrier in the closet over there,” she says, pointing at the small door off the kitchen. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She disappears around a corner, and I look down at the fluffy white beast. “Hey,” I say. “What do I need to do to get on your good side? Treats? Belly rubs? Or are you going to make this difficult?”
He meows loudly, rubbing against my leg.
I laugh as I pet him, and his back arches when I run my hand over his soft fur. I’m not really a cat person, but he’s pretty cute.
“That was easy.”
Walking to the closet, I pull it open. Everything here smells like Layla. Aside from the pictures she’s posted, I haven’t ever seen what she’s done with the house. It’s very her. Every single thing is intentionally placed—from the delicate art hung on the walls to the warm colors of the paint and furniture. The kitchen is tiny, but she somehow makes it feel cozy and homey. Plants fill every crevice and corner, blankets everywhere, string lights, and candles galore. The feminine energy is strong, and I fucking love it. It’s like she somehow created an English country cottage for herself in the middle of Los Angeles.
I peek into the other room, and there’s a reading nook in one section of her living room. A rumpled blanket has been discarded on a large reading chair, and there’s a book on the windowsill. It’s too far away to see the title, but I can almost guarantee it’s a dark romance book.
I bet she spends 90 percent of her time here , I think, smiling.
When I walk down the short hallway, I hear her shuffling around in the back bedroom, so I quickly go into the other room.
Of fucking course it’s a library—a very disorganized, work-in-progress one. Stacks of books as tall as her are against one wall, and half the room is painted a light blue color. It’s like she started to paint but lost track of time. The floor-to-ceiling, built- in shelves are bare, sanded down to the raw wood that probably came with the house. I walk in farther and see the instructions for the can of dark wood stain sitting on a stool, along with a foam brush.
Once I’m done snooping, I walk back into the hallway, looking up for the attic hatch. When I see the square, I stand on my tiptoes and push on it. It pops open, and I slide it over a couple of inches to let the hot air up while she’s away. Then I walk back into the main room and grab the plastic carrier from the closet. To my surprise, Sparrow meows and runs right into it.
“Thanks, dude,” I tell him, placing him on the counter gently as I look for his food.
Sneaking him some treats, I pack up a couple of cans of cat food and throw his water and food dish into a bag. Since Layla is still packing, I grab a glass of water and walk over to all of her plants, watering them with cold water to ensure they don’t die from the heat. Just as I’m reaching up to the plant on top of her kitchen cabinet, I hear her clear her throat from behind me.
When I turn around, her cheeks are pink, and she looks… amused? Aroused? Maybe a little bit of both. Or maybe she’s flushed because it’s stifling inside this house.
“Thanks for doing that,” she says, gesturing to the plants. “I’m ready.”
My eyes dart down to the backpack in her hands, as well as a rectangular box I realize is Sparrow’s litter box.
“Let’s go. By the way, I popped the hatch open,” I tell her, gesturing to the hallway. “It’ll help move the hot air into the attic.”
“Oh. I didn’t even know I had an attic.” She laughs.
I smile as I take Sparrow’s carrier, the litter box, and her backpack, and she locks up as I load my car. Everything goes in the trunk except Sparrow, who I buckle into one of the small back seats. When I turn to Layla to let her into the passenger side, she’s watching me with that funny expression again.
Smiling, I turn the music from earlier back on, and we drive to my penthouse in downtown Crestwood. There’s a lot of traffic, so it takes almost forty-five minutes. By the time we park my car, wave to security, and walk to the elevator, it’s over a hundred degrees out.
Layla looks a bit pale, so I quickly press the P button for the sixteenth floor, a.k.a. the penthouse.
When I walk into my apartment, the cool air is a total relief.
I let Sparrow out of his carrier immediately, and Layla sets his litter box up in the corner of the utility room. Refilling his water dish, I put it near the kitchen island.
Layla slowly follows me, her eyes taking in everything. Since I hardly changed anything after buying the place from Chase, it still feels like it’s not actually my place. As her gaze flicks over the fur rug and leather couch, I let my eyes wander over her face and neck. She’d pulled her hair up into a bun at her house, and wavy tendrils cling to her forehead and the back of her neck. She’s wearing a white sports bra and black hi-rise leggings, and my mouth goes dry as I unabashedly skim over her narrow waist and muscular legs. And with her round glasses? She reminds me of Evelyn Carnahan from The Mummy .
I shift my body slightly to accommodate my growing erection.
“Drink,” I tell her, grabbing a glass and filling it with cold water.
Arching one brow, she takes the glass from me. “Bossy.”
I can’t help it. Leaning forward, I let myself get within a couple of inches of her face. Her eyes go wide, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
“You think that’s bossy?” I chuckle, leaning back.
She blushes and takes a few large gulps of water. “Of course my air-conditioning crapped out during a heatwave.”
I grab a glass for myself and smile as I take a few sips. “Naturally.”
“Thanks again for letting me stay over. Your place is nice.”
“I left everything as is when Chase moved out. Most of it is his.”
“It’s big,” she adds, looking around.
I smirk. “It is.”
“Open.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t want to interfere with any potential hot dates you bring home,” she admits, finishing her water. “You know, like the girl you’re seeing.”
I watch her throat bob as she swallows, mesmerized. “Trust me. You won’t,” I tell her, my voice an octave too low.
“Master!”
Layla and I both crane our necks to see Earl flying through the penthouse. He lands on one of his many perches around the house, and Layla laughs.
“Oh my God, your bird! I completely forgot.”
“Pretty girl,” Earl states, walking closer to the edge of his perch and, therefore, closer to Layla. “Earl missed pretty girl.”
Layla looks at me, and I shrug. “No idea who he’s referring to.”
“Master loves his pretty girl and wants to fill her tight, little f?—”
“That’s enough,” I say quickly, reaching out for him. “Let’s get you back into your aviary, old man.”
Just then, Sparrow comes around the corner, and Earl begins to growl. Because yes, apparently, I have a bird who growls.
A minute later, after putting Earl back in his aviary, I walk back into the kitchen to find Layla on her phone. “Everything okay?”
She nearly drops her phone, quickly placing it back in the pocket of her leggings. “Yeah, just texting someone.”
“I was going to go for a swim. Care to join me?”
Her eyes go wide. “Right. The pool.” She looks around and laughs. “Sorry, this is just so weird for me. You, me, us. Being cordial. Until the other night, I don’t think we’ve spoken this much in…”
“Seven years?” I offer, trying to school my face into something other than veiled pain. “But yeah, it’s weird for me, too.”
She shakes her head. “I’m just trying to wrap my mind around it, that’s all.”
“Go change. There are several guest rooms—pick one. We’ll cool off in the water, and maybe we can get reacquainted with each other.”
Her hazel eyes bloom a bit darker, but she nods once. It looks like she wants to say something, but she grabs her backpack and walks off instead. Once she’s out of sight, I lean over the island on my elbows and rest my head in my hands.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
My phone vibrates, and Kai’s name pops up on my caller ID before I press the answer button.
“What’s up?”
“Just wanted to check on you. How are things?”
“Uh,” I look over my shoulder in the direction Layla went. “Layla is here,” I tell him, my voice low in case she comes back.
“Oh? That’s a new development.”
“Yeah, Scott had a health scare this morning.”
“Oh fuck. Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. How many times do you have to self-flagellate when you swear?” I tease.
“Fuck off.”
I laugh. “You can come over if you want. We’re about to go swimming.”
“And subject myself to the thick, sexual tension? I think not.”
“How are you doing?” I ask, leaning against the counter.
“Fine.”
I wait a few seconds for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “Fine? How’s Julian? And his wife?”
I’m grinning as I say it, and I’m sure Kai can tell. “They’re fine.”
“So wordy today, brother.”
“Be careful. I’ll come over there just to fuck with you.”
“I dare you.”
“In all seriousness, have you told her how you feel?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I’m working on it.”
No one knows about Starboy, and I’d prefer to keep it that way for now. I want to ask him more about Julian, but he speaks before I have the chance.
“Tell me you have a plan.”
“A plan for what?”
“To win her over. For the love of all things holy, make your move.”
I wince. “It’s not that simple.”
“How is it not simple? I’ve never seen you have problems picking women up.”
Running a hand through my hair, I groan. “Yeah, but she’s different. Plus, I don’t know what she wants.”
Malakai sighs on the other end. “Okay, here’s what you do. What’s her favorite thing in the world?”
I open and close my mouth. “I don’t know… she likes books.”
“Okay, great. Books. Make yourself a part of those things, but don’t be too obvious. Show her you’re genuinely interested and care for her.”
I rub the back of my neck. “How?”
“Where does she read? Make it so that she has to think of you whenever she’s there.”
I’m quiet as an idea begins to form in my mind.
“And for the love of God, don’t rush it. Be patient. I know you’re spontaneous, and patience isn’t your strong suit, but let her see the real you and give her reasons to want more. It’s about connection, not just chemistry. I mean, a little bit is chemistry, so it wouldn’t hurt to turn on the charm.”
“Who would’ve thought the brother who’s a pastor would give me the best dating advice?”
“Very funny. I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.”
He hangs up before I can protest, and I heave a heavy sigh before walking to my bedroom and changing into my swim trunks. I open my bedside drawer and pull out my burner phone, delighted to see a text from LittleDancer.
LittleDancer
I might be offline a bit today. At my stepbrother’s place. My dad had a health scare, and my AC went out. I’ll update you when I can. :)
I quickly text back so that Starboy doesn’t leave her hanging.
I’m sorry to hear that. I’m here if you need to talk. Also, you have a stepbrother? I didn’t know that.
She responds almost immediately.
LittleDancer
Yeah… he’s a pain in the ass most days.
I laugh.
You guys are close?
Three dots appear and disappear several times.
LittleDancer
Not really.
My smile disappears. Fuck.
I’m always here if you need me.
I put the phone back in my pocket and sit down on my bed. She doesn’t think we’re close—why is that? I mean, we’re not best friends, but we’re definitely not strangers anymore. Not after the last couple of weeks.
He’s a pain in the ass most days.
I’ve been playing it safe. Being the nice guy—making sure she’s safe, looked after, cared for. But maybe I needed to turn it up a notch. She seems to hate whenever I talk about the supposed woman I’m dating. And I know she finds me attractive.
I also happen to know that she’s not allowed to relieve herself until I tell her that she can.
I also know she loves books… and my idea is too good to ignore.
Those are all things I can capitalize on.
Walking out of my bedroom, I decide to make her see what she’s missing—and perhaps make her fall for her dear stepbrother.
It’s a dangerous game to play, and I might lose everything.
She might think she’s immune to my charms, but I’ll prove her wrong.
She wants a villain?
Well, I’m the one who can give it to her—the guy who buys her flowers and burns the world for her.