Page 11 of Vicious Arrangement (Alpha Billionaire Daddies #7)

I don’t even like myself much for caving hours into being a married couple and sleeping with him. It’s utterly pathetic.

And I shamefully hold every moment of that rough, urgent coupling to my bones.

His dark brown eyes touch on me, and something flares, making me unable to move, stilling him, too. But then he shifts his gaze.

“I’ll show you. Come on. I don’t have much time to spare today.”

I cling to those words, letting the resentment at the burden he’s making me feel like build.

Angus and I—this time my hand on his leash.

Follow him down a hall that’s past the kitchen.

I say hall, but it’s giant pieces of art suspended from the high, black and white painted industrial ceiling and anchored on big blocks of half wall. It’s airy, elegant and unexpected.

I follow him around the corner, past what looks like a library, and then up a set of stairs that turn in the middle. Then we come out near the elevator, and he points to one end, past the living room that’s smaller, to a pair of closed pocket doors.

“My room.”

He turns, and points in the other direction. “Small kitchenette and wet bar, study, coat closet, and there, other end, is your room. There are two guest bedrooms on the lower level.”

He walks down the long wide hall that leads off to rooms or doors to the huge wrap around terrace that from here looks like a countryside garden with its high walls and blooms of colors and trees. He pushes open the pocket doors and I step into a massive bedroom.

It’s gorgeous from the queen size bed to the little sitting area and coffee table. There’s even a desk near the floor to ceiling glass walls that are hugged by curtains.

“There are blackout and privacy blinds and the central air is controlled over here.” He points to a system on the wall.

“This area of the garden is yours. I made sure Alonso put up trellises that open so you can have privacy or have it open.”

I nod, looking at the outdoor lounge, the table, the swing chair, the tree with citrus and all the flowers blooming. It’s gorgeous.

Then, when I turn, I see the dog bed. Or beds. They’re huge, one has option for him to slide inside in winter or lounge on top, while the other is a basket design, that’s all lined so he can lie on it.

“The dog beds are great. I didn’t expect?—”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll rip them to pieces in minutes,” Noah mutters. “If you need anything or help getting things up here, Alonso is here, and the chef can spare a few minutes. But Carrie’s here all day, so just ask, okay? They’re here until six. And I need to get to fucking work.”

With that, Noah leaves. I stare after him. I didn’t exactly expect a parade or a welcoming committee, but I thought he might stay a little longer to give me a brief tour.

And it’s not until I hear the ding of the lift that I remember I don’t have keys.

There must be a door somewhere. The stairs have to lead up to here, too.

Fire codes and all that. But I don’t have anywhere to be.

Angus’s bowls and food are in one of my wheelie cases, along with his toys and other bedding he likes.

He’s big, but he’s still growing, he’s only young, not quite puppy, not quite teen, so the ripping into things is to be expected… except he doesn’t do it at home.

“Angus?”

He’s sniffing his bedding, not sure about it, but once I put a blanket on it, add his favorite cushion to the mix, he’ll be happy.

He trots over, and I pet his velvet head, his liquid brown eyes looking up at me.

“Don’t be nervous,” I tell him, “it’s scary, I know, but it’s also an adventure.

This is our room. And, look, that’s our space where you can play and sun yourself.

” I lean in and whisper, “and on snowy or cold nights, you can go to the bathroom. But we can still go for runs.”

Angus whines, rolling his eyes to look around. And I stand, taking his leash. “Let’s explore. We’ll start up here and then go down to the next floor. What do you think?”

He barks.

I open the door, make sure the little doggy back clip on his leash is full and we head out.

It’s glorious, and the high wall that must sit inside the edges of the original facade is high enough to be safe for Angus.

We both love it. Our little area is huge.

And I know that something like this in Manhattan is akin to a sprawling mansion anywhere else.

Angus checks out the shadowy areas, the little fountain that flows in the corner.

He sniffs the grass and the flowers, all of which appeal to him. He marks a tree.

I sit down in one of the seats, picturing myself studying or relaxing with my iPad on a warm summer evening, watching a show or movie, or even reading.

Then I rise, and we explore the rest. The curtains are down on his side, and there’s no barrier, but the trees and the garden setting are neat and clipped where Noah’s room is, like he prefers something a little more manicured and dull.

Some might call it zen, and there’s a little pond, some seats, and stones, with light dappling through the trees and well-kept bushes. It’s calming, I guess.

There’s a barbecue on the other side, and a row of seats, and a table.

As I check it out, I see the stainless steel hides a working fridge, too.

And… amazingly, there’s an outdoor shower that’s closed off by frosted glass.

I peek in. It’s big enough for about four people. I peer in through the window.

The upstairs living room.

The other side offers patio chaise longues and what looks like a fireplace, but it’s probably gas.

I’m about to continue when I see a door.

I open it to the smell of cedar. Wide cedar steps lead me up to where the hot tub is and some pretty plants.

There’s another small kitchen area under cover, and the sauna.

Angus barks at the water in the hot tub and jumps in.

From the other side of the sauna on this small uppermost space comes a cry, and a handsome man with black curly hair bounds around. “Oh. You must be Mrs. Templeton. I’m Alonso.”

I shake his hand just as Angus stops splashing and climbs the little steps, shaking water over us both.

“Angus!”

But Alonso laughs and bends down, petting my dog.

“It’s okay. He’s beautiful. I’m glad I cleaned it for you.

Maybe I need to get you a little pool… I’m putting in a kennel on the first floor and one here if you want.

Maybe moveable, so we can shift it to be at one of the trellis openings for you…

I’m planning on putting a couple in other places for him, out of the way, but nice areas.

” He ruffles Angus’s wet fur. “Maybe you can help, my friend.”

Angus lets out a joyous bark.

And I find myself smiling.

Even if Noah lives here, the place is beautiful, a little slice of paradise and a place Angus might love. I can leave the door open for him during the day so he can go in and out as he sees fit and I won’t have to fret about him during long double shifts.

I trail Alonso and Angus as we all explore places for extra water bowls and sleeping stations, and I think, maybe this won’t be all bad.