Booze and Bullets (Brooklyn Brothers #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,33

granted?

“This place must have cost a fortune.”

“Not as much as you might think,” he murmured. “I bought it just before rates started climbing back up after the housing market crash. It had been foreclosed on, so I got it for a steal.”

A steal that had probably still been several million dollars.

“Follow me.” He pivoted on his heel. “I have business to attend to, but you at least need to see where you’ll eat and sleep.”

I rolled my eyes.

What a prince I’ve nabbed myself.

The kitchen was a dream, of course. My eyes went wide when they fell on the industrial-sized oven, spotless and gleaming as if it were brand-new. Did he have a chef or housekeeper who did his cooking for him? Or did he except his little wifey to make his meals from now on?

Because that so wasn’t going to happen.

Not just because I refused to play that stereotypical role. But because I was no gourmet chef. I wasn’t terrible, but I guaranteed I wouldn’t be able to cook most of his preferred American dishes. I’d mastered various Russian recipes, but it was nothing fancy.

“I stocked the fridge before I left for Moscow,” he explained, opening said appliance and glancing inside. “If you’ll make a list of what you prefer to eat and drink, I’ll be sure to get it the next time I go to the store.”

He went to the store? Himself?

Why I found that so hard to picture, I couldn’t say. He always looked the flashy businessman in his immaculate suits who flew on private jets and rode in the back of town cars. I just couldn’t imagine him pushing around a trolley, throwing deli meats and laundry detergent inside as he read off of a handwritten list.

That was far too domestic for the Nico Rossetti I’d seen.

“Don’t forget to include any food allergies,” he added, slamming the fridge door shut.

I ran my fingers over the cool granite surface of the countertops when my eyes caught on something through the back windows.

“Da idi ty!” You’re kidding me! I rushed over to the French doors that led outside to the back patio. “Oh, my God, it’s gorgeous out there.”

The kidney-shaped in-ground pool was a sight to behold in itself. But the opulent grotto that surrounded the majority of it was simply magnificent. Rocks and stones lined the edge, piling up into a waterfall marvel that spilled out into the pool. There was a raised jacuzzi area separated by more stonework. And the patio itself was surprisingly spacious, especially for what I would have expected in a city like this. A dining set sat off in one corner, a large conversation set in the opposite corner, and a fire pit in yet another corner. Lounge chairs with umbrellas were interspersed throughout the space.

It was a haven in the middle of Brooklyn.

“It ought to be,” he commented. “I designed it myself.”

“You designed that?”

His chest puffed out a little. “You haven’t learned by now? I have a varied skill set, legs.”

I turned away before he could see the heat rise on my cheeks. If he was about to bring up the incident at the club, I’d be forced to claw his eyes out. I didn’t need to be reminded of how it’d felt to have his impressive manhood pressed up against me.

“When I bought the house, there was nothing there but the pool, which needed a lot of work. There was a ton of space being wasted, so I decided to make better use of it. It’s heated, by the way, so you can use it year-round.”

“Do you go out there a lot?”

He shrugged. “Whenever I can. Unfortunately, work precludes a lot of leisure time for activities like swimming.”

I caught a hint of something in his voice. It sounded almost regretful, maybe even a little wistful?

He shook his head, turning to leave the room. “The guest house has towels and whatever else you might need. Upstairs is this way. I’ll show you to your—”

He paused halfway up the stairs.

I froze a few steps below him, my hand stilling in its slide up the sleek wooden banister.

I frowned, confused. “To my bedroom?”

Because he surely couldn’t have been foolish enough to assume we’d be sharing one…

Right?

Had I really been about to take Lexi to my room?

How had it not once occurred to me that she would need a room of her own? Work must have had me more distracted than I thought. It wasn’t like we’d ever slept in the same room before, so

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