“Alright, the food should be ready.” He started walking back towards the kitchen area.
Greyson asked about my family once we sat down to eat—how my mother was doing and whether or not my sister’s boyfriend had finally proposed. It seemed that he kept in contact with my mother regularly, even though she didn’t mention him much. He told me a couple of stories about my father from when they were younger and worked together in Chicago. I had never heard much about that side of my father’s life. It was painful for my mother to talk about him, so I didn’t ask many questions. Most of what I knew about the man who passed away long before his time came from my sister, who was old enough to remember him better than I could.
“Something we need to discuss…” Greyson leaned back once he was done with his meal. “While you’re staying here, whether it’s for a few months or longer—I have a few rules.”
Not surprising. I’d have rules too if this was my house.
“Of course.” I nodded. “This is your house and I’m just a guest.”
“I don’t like having strangers here when I’m not home.” He tilted his head slightly and smirked. “So, no sneaking boys in while I’m at work.”
“Oh gosh.” I blushed and chuckled under my breath. “I definitely won’t do that.”
I didn’t have a boyfriend to sneak into my house when I was in high school, and I doubt that’s going to change just because I’m in a different state.
“You’re going to be in college, and I remember how that is, but you need to be home at a reasonable hour. If you decide to go out and have a drink or something, I won’t judge you, but please don’t drive. John will pick you up—anytime, wherever you are.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Even if you’re not living here.”
“I appreciate that. That won’t be an issue though. I don’t drink—and I don’t have a car…” I shrugged slightly.
“You’re welcome to use any of mine if you want.” He pointed towards the wall. “Except the Maserati. That’s the one I drive.”
“How many cars do you have?” I looked where he was pointing and saw a rack with at least a dozen sets of keys. “Oh wow!”
“Yeah, no problem.” I nodded quickly. “Wait—looking after me?”
“Of course.” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not your babysitter, but you’re still a kid…”
Ouch…
“I mean…” I looked down at the table for a moment. “I’m eighteen. I think I can manage on my own…”
“Maybe, but you’re still my responsibility while you are living here.” He slid his chair back and started to stand.
“Are those all of the rules?” I looked up at him, feeling slightly offended that he thought I was just some kid he had to look after.
“The basics, yeah.” He nodded. “Just stay out of trouble.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem.” I looked away before he could see me roll my eyes.
“Good to hear. I’d hate to have to ground you or something.” He chuckled and started walking towards the door.
Great, so this is basically like high school—except I live in a mansion and I get to drive a fancy car if I want…
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Kelli writes billionaires, bad boys, and alpha protectors that are hot-as-sin and filthy to the core. If you want to stay up to date with all things Kelli, sign up to her mailings list here.
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