The Million Dollar Virgin

Chapter Thirteen - Rian

Rian watched as Stevie's face went from a bright smile – as fake as the plant in the corner of the room – to what could only be described as a sullen glower.

Yeah, well...serves you right, he growled silently. I've felt the same way since the second you walked off with my brother.

It wasn't a fair thought. Or even a reasonable one. It was true as all fuck though. Just like the fact that he wanted to kiss the pouty look off her face. Make her gasp like he had in the car. Hold her hand like he had upstairs. Christ. He even wanted to demand just how far she'd gone in the other make out sessions she'd declared. He'd been thinking about that, too, since the second Echo touched her. It'd taken every goddamned ounce of restraint he had to keep from tearing her away from the asshole (who he swore to god he really did love with all the brotherly love in the fucking world) and carrying her up the stairs back to his room. Then maybe locking her in.

"Rian?" She said his name in grumpy, but kind of concerned way, and after a second he clued in that maybe it was because it wasn't the first time she's said it – maybe it was more like the fourth.

Feeling like an idiot, he dug into his pocket and pulled out the valid excuse he'd had for knocking. Her cell phone. Dropped at the bottom of the stairs, probably when Echo was carrying her around like a sack of potatoes.

"Here," he said, holding it out resentfully.

Stevie stared at him for a long moment. "I don't know if I should say thank you, or if I should assume you've put a curse on it."

"If you don't want it..."

"No. I do." She grabbed it and quickly tucked it into her skirt pocket. "Thank you."

Rian knew he should just turn and go, but he felt compelled to stay. "This room work okay for you?"

Stevie took a little step back, and her eyes dragged over the décor. Rian followed her gaze. She looked startled for a second – like she was seeing it for the first time.

It was a carefully decorated space. Neutral walls, dark floors, a cream ceiling. Art that drew the eye, but didn't hold it too long. It was luxurious, too. Rich silks on the bed, handcrafted wood furniture. Rian had overseen the transformation – from guestroom to wife-to-be suite – himself.

"If you want to bring anything from home," he added, "Feel free."

Stevie shook her head. "I don't have much. My apartment came furnished, and by now...well. My landlord said if I didn't have the rent to him by three, everything else would be out in the Dumpster. It's not worth the dive, trust me."

"I can have someone get it for you."

She met his eyes, her stare clear. "It's not a pride thing, Northwest. I literally own five outfits. Three pots, a bowl and a plate...one set of cutlery...nothing superfluous and nothing I can't replace at the thrift store."

Rian's fist clenched, and he forced it loose. If she signed the contract, he could buy her a hundred damned outfits and an entire drawer full of forks. Of course, she'd just wear the former with Echo. And use the latter to eat with Echo. And...He had to stop thinking about it. Seriously.

"So, that's it then?" he made himself say. "You're out on your ass or you're here?"

"Pretty much."

He studied her face. "And that's why you're so willing to jump in and do this."

She lifted her finger to her mouth and chewed on her pinky nail for a second, then sighed. "If that's what it'll take to get you to stop trying to talk me out of it...then, yes. When I woke up this morning, I was on the brink of being homeless. Now I'm also clothes-less and jobless."