Page 43 of Merry Fake Bride

“Wow.” She gazes up at the small crystal lights, then behind her to the mirror that reflects how we both look like two drowned rats.

Her expression warps slightly at the sight of herself, and it somehow makes me immediately want to distract her.

“How is your arm?” I ask quickly. “Keeping that cast dry in the storm must have been tough.”

She glances down at it and slowly flexes her fingers. “The edges are a little damp but I think it will be okay. They told me not to get it wet, but it was kind of unavoidable.”

“If you have concerns, we can get you another.”

“Because what’s another couple of thousand onto that debt, right?” She meets my gaze but despite the bite in her words, the fire is dying in her eyes.

It’s replaced by weariness.

I have so many questions about how she even ended up wandering the streets, but they all seem pointless when the doors slide open to my penthouse and she steps out onto the fluffy rug with a grimace.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “My shoes will ruin your floors.”

“Nonsense.” I smile as I move past her. “Remember, fabric can be replaced. It’s all just stuff.”

“You have a hell of a lot of stuff.” She gazes around, and I can see the judgment in her eyes, but there’s awe as well while I lead her down the short hallway toward the lounge.

She observes the flower-filled vases that line the walls, paintings of landscapes hanging between them, and then the lounge.

It’s a burgundy and oak scheme, so warmth radiates from it despite how unlived in it looks at a glance.

With three corner sofas creating shape around a firepit that flickers to life as soon as I turn on the light and floor-to-ceiling windows that show nothing but darkness due to the storm raging outside, the air feels close and warm.

Devon’s teeth chatter next to me.

“Take those stairs.” I point past her to a column of stairs that rise around a stone pillar to the next floor. “My bedroom is up there and my bathroom. You’re frozen to the bone, and I don’t want you to get sick, so please take a bath. Warm yourself.”

She looks like she wants to refuse, but the temptation must be too much for her.

After a pause, she nods and glances at me. “Okay. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. It’s the second door on the left. Are you hungry?”

As she walks toward the stairs, she hesitates. “Not really.”

“Not really as in you’re not hungry or you’re too polite to ask for something?”

Her eyes narrow at me, but it lacks the previous anger. She seems almost curious. “Maybe. I’m honestly too cold to think.”

I nod and tilt my head upward. “Take a bath. Take as long as you need.”

She watches me for a few seconds and her lips part as if something else is on her mind, but whatever it is never makes it out.

Instead, she flashes a brief smile and climbs the stairs out of sight.

For the first time since I saw her drenched on that street corner, I feel like I can finally breathe.

She’s here.

She’s safe.

That’s what matters.

I shed my clothes in the laundry room and toss them into the washing machine while toweling myself dry.