DIMA (Filthy Rich Alphas)

“Why?”

“Red would suggest a hot, vibrant sex life.” I spotted two doors and stopped in between them. “Hmmm. Which one?”

She raised her eyebrows.

I went into the right one and opened. “Right on the first try. Awesome. There we go. Rose’s bedroom.”

A blue comforter covered the bed. Files and folders lay on the side of her bed for where someone else could have slept. Unconsciously, she’d blocked that space off, telling the universe work came before love. Tons of moving boxes filled the room. Her closet door was open and empty. She hadn’t put anything on the nightstand or shelves.

“I see.” I left and headed back to the living room.

She hurried after me. “What do you see?”

“You’ve got a hot temper, but an ice cold bed.”

“My bed is just as hot.”

“It’s not.” I made it to the kitchen.

Viktor was already seated at the breakfast bar, playing his game. “Nice place, Ms. Walsh.”

“Uh.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Thank you.”

Viktor’s game blared a horn. “Fuck. This level is super hard.”

I sat down next to him and perused the kitchen. More boxes stacked the counters. “Very interesting.”

She shook her head. “I don’t like your examining my life.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not just anybody. I like to know who I’m taking to bed.”

She laughed and opened the cupboard. “You’re not taking me to bed.”

I drank in the great view of her ass. “I like honey instead of sugar. And a little splash of milk.”

“Wow. Thanks for your order. I’ll have your menu with you shortly.” She set cups on the counter and turned on the electric silver tea kettle near her. “Do you always do this?”

“Delight a woman’s home with my presence?”

“Forget it.” She rummaged through the cabinets.

Viktor’s phone beeped. Then, the harp played a longer melody.

I eyed him. “Level 8?”

He beamed with pride.

“Good job.” I caught a shelf further away, stacked with books. “Oh my. Books. How did I not see that?”

“See what?” She checked over her shoulder.

Leaving my seat, I walked over to the book case and checked the titles. I expected to see a lot of nonfiction and leather bounds editions of award-wining literary works. Something appropriate for a Pulitzer Prize winner. Basically, lots of boring shit.

Instead, each shelf displayed tons of trashy romance. Many of the titles represented things my mother would have read.

“Very, very interesting.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Can I borrow one of your novels?”

“Now, I know that you’re playing.”

“I’m not.”

“You really want to borrow a book to read?”

“I do. Will you let me?”

“That depends on what you want to borrow.”

A little steam rose from the kettle, but not enough to make it whistle.

“Hmmm.” I picked up the one that grabbed my attention. “How about the Diamond Thief’s Secret Baby?”

She laughed.

I frowned at her. “Is that a no, Ms. Walsh?”

“You’re not really going to read it.”

“Would you like to make a wager on that?”

Viktor chuckled to himself.

She pulled out an ornate box where I figured she kept her loose leaf tea. “What do you want to bet?”

“I want a date.”

She held the top in mid-air. “I read the book. I would know if you’re lying.”

“Let’s go.”

“I’m not dating you, Dimitri.”

“Because I’m a bad guy?”

“That and your ego.”

“I have a lovable ego.” I carried the book over with me. “I’m borrowing this, and when I finish, we’ll discuss our date.”

“Not happening.” She scooped up loose tea leaves.

A meow sounded off in the corner.

“There, we go.” I searched around for the cat. “Aww. How beautiful!”

She was a small puffball of white silky hair. Her button nose was pink. Her steps were sly and commanding.

My heart warmed. “I’m absolutely in love. What’s her name?”

“None of your business. You know enough about me.”

I walked over to the kitty. The little thing skittered away. Disappointed, I kept space between us as I followed her around. “She’ll need time to get used to me. I may need to visit her more.”

Rose rolled her eyes.

The cat went to her empty bowl and meowed.

“Oh no. She’s hungry.” I shook my head. “Viktor.”

“I’m on it, boss.” He paused his game, hurried into the kitchen, and searched through the cabinets.

“Excuse me, sir?” Rose glared at Viktor. “Can I help you?”

“Nope. And you don’t need to call him sir.”

“Trust me. That was sarcastic.”

I pulled out my book and wrote a note.

Rose uses sarcasm sometimes when she says ‘sir.’

I put the book up and realized that she was watching me.

She looked at my pocket. “What did you write down?”

Viktor pulled out a small bag of pet food and headed my way. “She only has puppy chow, boss.”

I scowled at Rose. “This is a cat.”

“I know it’s a cat.”

“Are you sure?”

“I was busy when I bought my groceries. Mainly on the phone and so I picked up the wrong bag and—”

I stared at her in horror. “The kitty has been subjected to this for how long?”