“This way,” Ross says, already halfway up the staircase that curves around until it reaches a landing on the second floor. I hurry after him, trying to absorb the rest of the decoration, but it all streams past me in a blur of expensive materials and unrestrained luxury.
“Randolph instructed that you be given the master suite,” he says.
“Yes, he told me.”
“It’s the best room in the house,” Ross says as his hand rests on the round brass doorknob. “You have a view of the gardens, a dressing room, and a bathroom. There’s also a balcony.”
“Wow. That beats my old room in every way.”
But I have no idea how much until Ross opens the door, and doves fly through in welcome. Okay, that part is an exaggeration, but not by much.
The room, which is now my home, is like something from one of those glossy home magazines that are out of my price range. A huge bed with a quilted white headboard that stretches to the ceiling is flanked by two marble-topped nightstands, complete with brushed gold and black velvet lights. The herringbone wood flooring continues through the room, but the bed stands on a plush cream rug that I know my feet are going to get lost in.
The dressing room is bigger than my old room, and the bathroom has a clawfoot tub and enormous shower with three different heads to meet all my water droplet needs.
I mean, who requires all this space?
Who desires all this luxury?
If I felt a little out of place before, I feel a whole lot out of place now.
Half of my possessions sit in boxes on the floor in the corner of the room, waiting to be unpacked so that they can look completely out of place too.
My clothes will seem lonely hanging in such a cavernous space. My shoes will look lost nestled in just a few of the many shoe shelves in the closet.
As I whistle in awe, the sound echoes through the room.
I have a room that is so large that sound echoes around it.
“I’ll go finish with the movers,” Ross says.
“I’ll come and help,” I say.
Ross glances at me with a disapproving expression, but I’m already at the door by that point. As Miss Independent, I’m not comfortable with other people doing things for me, especially if I’m not going to be able to return a favor.
As I reach the top of the stairs, the rumble of low masculine voices rises to greet me. I’m halfway down before my eyes make contact with the men in question, and I realize it’s not the movers.
I don’t intend to freeze and become a statue on the ornate curving staircase. It’s a ridiculous response to have towards anyone, especially five spoiled douchebags raised by a man I despise, but I can’t help myself.
The dweeby Carlton brothers that I saw in the oil painting have all grown up. There’s not a draped sweater or boat shoe in sight. The mental image I had created of these men is blasted from my brain like a bottle standing on a wall during shooting practice, and I short circuit over what it’s been replaced with.
Five gorgeous, tall, muscular men gaze up at me like I’m their virgin sister descending to attend my debutante ball. My gaze sweeps across them all, unable to register more than their overall swoon-worthiness. Ross descends the stairs, coming to a halt next to me, his eyes moving between my gawking expression and his employers below. He makes a snorting sound that feels derisive, then continues on his way.
And suddenly, I’m jolted out of the attraction haze and back to reality.
“Cora?” one of them says, his voice rising at the end in question.
I clomp down the stairs, coming to a stop in front of them, gathering all my stupid lustful thoughts and stuffing them below the ball of hate I have for this situation, and everyone involved.
When I don’t reply, the tallest man dressed in snug black jeans and a gray tee blinks his perfect sapphire blue eyes slowly and seems to fight a smile. “I’m Danny,” he says. “These are my brothers: Mark, Tobias, Alden, and River.”
He speaks and points slowly, and I’m not sure if that’s because he thinks I’m stupid or if he’s used to people getting confused during introductions with so many brothers who are so similar in age.
Alden has curly brown hair pulled up and secured behind his head and a beard that needs a good trim. Mark is the lightest in coloring, with dirty blond hair like his mom and eyes that aren’t quite blue and aren’t quite green in a way the ocean can change as the waves move over the seabed. Tobias has a shaved head and earrings in both his ears, and a tattoo peeking out of his collar.