The bedroom I’d awoken in was timeless and elegant. The greens and golds reeked of sophistication, not the style of a mid-twenty-year-old man. He’d said this was one of the guest rooms, indicating there were multiple ones. I assumed it was his family home. Luka still lived with his parents?
“Can I?” I motioned to the bathroom.
“Sure. I put a shirt in there, in case you want to change.” His gaze drifted downward to the dried stain on my waist.
My face heated again with shame. I’d thrown up and gotten it on myself. It looked like it had been cleaned, but still. “Thank you,” I choked out and darted into the bathroom.
The dark eyeliner and shadow I’d layered on last night was smeared beneath my eyes. I looked awful. I pulled quickly at the ponytails, freeing my hair, and raked a hand through my unkempt strands, forcing them to lay flat. There was a men’s white dress shirt folded neatly on the marble counter top, and after I’d finished scrubbing my eyes, I contemplated what to do.
It was Luka’s shirt.
I’d expected an old t-shirt, not something so nice and formal. The fabric looked expensive. Was this a test? He’d figured me out last night when he said I wanted to look my best, so this had to be deliberate. I shed the white blouse and put on the dress shirt that was too big on me. The shirttails hung as long as my short skirt did.
Oh.
It was a test. I was fairly certain he was waiting to see if I’d come out wearing just his shirt and nothing else. Seductive. I couldn’t, not in a million years. Instead I made do by rolling up the sleeves and leaving the top few buttons undone.
He casually noted my skirt still in place but said nothing. It looked stupid, but I needed to send the message. I wasn’t happy about the way last night had gone, and had to put distance between us, even though I was wearing his beautiful shirt that smelled like him.
“Come on, I’ve got breakfast ready. You want coffee?”
I wanted to leave, but I also didn’t want to be rude. I was grateful he hadn’t dumped me off at the dorms, and he’d been different this morning. A cup of coffee wouldn’t change what had happened, but it wouldn’t kill me either. It’d make it easier to politely ask for a ride home, so I nodded.
I followed behind him out into the hallway where the décor was sophisticated. Dark wood, crown molding, and beautiful paintings decorated the long hall of closed doors and stairs to the right. My footfalls were quiet on the plush carpet as we wound down the curved staircase.
The entryway to the house was impressive. Daylight from oversized windows glanced off of the tiered crystal chandelier, positioned over a gorgeous wooden inlay in the hardwood floor. Obviously the car dealership business was going well for the Markovic family.
Luka either ignored my gawking, or didn’t notice. We traipsed past the dining room that had enough seating for twelve, and turned into a gourmet kitchen which was state-of-the-art. There was a table tucked to one side, which held two place settings and a full breakfast waiting to be served. Fresh fruit, pastries, bacon, and eggs. How had he prepared all this?
I stood dumbfounded as he slipped into one of the chairs and set about pouring his coffee. He added cream and sugar, and when he realized I hadn’t moved, his gaze turned up to mine. “You going to join me?”
There was an edge to his words, as if trying to walk a fine line between polite and commanding. I couldn’t help but feel like he was restraining his true self, the version I’d seen last night. I took the chair across from him and watched him pour my cup. It was all so . . . adult-like.
“If you want something else, let me know. My chef keeps the kitchen stocked, so she can make almost anything.”
My chef. Sweet Jesus. I stared down at my steaming cup, not wanting to say anything because I worried I’d sound like the poor, naïve girl I was. I added sugar and cream, stirring until the coffee turned a milk chocolate color.
“Tell me about your family,” Luka said as I was mid-sip.
I swallowed and it seared down my throat. “My family?”
“Yes. I want to know everything about you. We’ll start with your family.” This he said in the tone I was more familiar with. An order, not a request.
I paused, my hand lingering on the handle to my mug as I considered his demand. He wanted to know everything about me? Why? A weird tickle crept up the back of my neck. “There’s not much to say. They’re pretty normal.”
“Are your parents still together? Siblings?”