Sweet Pain (Amatucci Family #3) - Sadie Jacks Page 0,111

official welcome to the family.”

I looked at Willow, saw the color drain from her face. “We need to move.”

I nodded. “Took the words right out of my mouth. Let’s start looking for houses—hell, compounds—instead of cleaning. I’ll hire someone to come move us out. Pack a bag, cupcake. We’re going back to the lofts.”

Rafe yelled from the front room. “You two switch homes more than that stupid chair music game. I’m not helping again.” He stormed off to the elevators, muttering under his breath.

I looked at Willow. “Stupid chair music game?”

She laughed. “Musical chairs. He was never fast enough, so he always lost.” She held her hand out to me. “Let’s pack and look at houses.”

Chapter 34 – Willow

The next morning

“And I keep telling you, as long as it has a good kitchen, I don’t care if it has a mancave or whatever the hell that even means. As long as you’re not watching porn or bringing over ladies, I don’t care what you do in there.” I wanted to wring his neck. If people thought women were fussy, they hadn’t met Ryker Penn.

The man was finicky, bordering on neurotic, with his specifications and demands in a single home. He needed at least five bedrooms—for what, I had no idea. Two offices—again, I had no idea why. I sketched on an iPad while watching action movies. Sometimes I would use an office chair and a drafting table, but with the ease of keeping all the files electronic, I rarely did that anymore.

The rest of the list that he had to have was almost embarrassing. I guess it was a good thing he was obscenely rich. And honestly, this was the first time I think I’d ever seen it. Like had it shoved right in my face how rich he really was. He was so chill and down to earth that his wealth didn’t really even seem important.

He growled, shoved another pillow under his back as we laid in bed. Except for going to the bathroom once we woke up, we hadn’t done a whole lot. Well, he’d called into the office. Apparently his top executives were going to be receiving a bonus for stepping up in the last few weeks. He was also making sure quite a bit of that bonus trickled down to the workers who probably actually did the bulk of the work.

“We’re getting a new bed,” he snarked.

“I agree. This is complete crap. Especially after sleeping on your lake of a mattress.” I snuggled against his side, watched as he scrolled through another page of homes in the ‘oh my goddess why’ categories of price and square footage.

He stopped on one. It was huge. Very Tuscan villa. But it looked beautiful. About thirty minutes outside the city, I tapped on the picture before he could scroll by in a hurry.

The expanded picture took my breath away. “Ryker, look.” The arches on the doorways, the high peaked roof lines. The windows. Every single aspect was perfect.

“Don’t get too excited. We have to see what it has under the hood.”

I rolled my eyes. His use of car analogies was driving me bonkers. Driving. Ha. I crack myself up.

He clicked on the button for the detailed specs. He blew up the floor plan picture as big as he could get it. Apparently, once you get to a certain price point, the architect’s plans were included. Bonus for spending multiple millions on a house that you would probably only use a quarter of.

“Well, the ceiling heights are livable.”

Meaning nothing shorter than ten feet. “And there are five bedrooms. A dual story master suite,” I pointed out. Surely Mr. Fancypants would be ecstatic about that.

“We’re going to be sleeping together, so we don’t need a dual story. But I guess we could make the lower level into an extra suite for your parents.”

I smiled. “It’s got a heated pool with retractable roofs. Oh, and forty acres.”

He made a rumbling sound deep in his chest. “You in a bikini? Yes. We need to add a pool to our must have list. And with that much acreage, you could just walk around naked all the time. I’d make sure to cover you in suntan lotion.”

I rolled my eyes. We lived in New York. Pools were stupid for a good half of the year.

“Five cars, two offices. A chef’s kitchen. A theater. A game room. Gym,” he rambled through the list of living spaces.

“You could turn the game room into your mancave,” I suggested. “It