Free Heart Choice by Robin D. Owens Page B

wondered if she was trying to make him feel awkward. It wasn’t working. He prowled to the twoseat at right angles to the desk, sat, and stretched out his legs. He found himself steepling his fingers as his father had been wont to do in his ResidenceDen. The image brought less pain than it had the night before.
    Mitchella leaned forward, her full breasts shifted and caught his focus. She huffed a breath. “GrandLord T’Blackthorn, may I have your attention?”
    â€œOh, you do. You certainly do.” He didn’t bother to mask the huskiness in his voice, the attraction in his gaze. He smiled slowly. “Call me Straif.”
    She nibbled her full bottom lip. Another immediate goal entered his mind. He’d taste those lips before she left. “Straif, then. I need to ask you a very important question.”

Six

    Straif met Mitchella’s gaze. “Yes, what is your very im portant question?” He wished it would have something to do with them and sex, but figured she’d stay on the painful topic of his Residence.
    â€œYou’re very sure that you don’t want to restore the rooms of the Residence as they were. You wish everything to be different—to follow your own taste?”
    Just as he’d thought, nothing about exploring each other intimately. Her question was tough. He should think about it, but he didn’t want to. He never wanted to see some rooms as they once were.
    â€œI want it changed.” His voice was even rougher. “Especially the ResidenceDen, my sister’s rooms. I never want to see the ballroom as it is or was again.”
    Mitchella exuded sympathy, as if she’d thrown a soft, warm cloak around him. He liked the feeling. Concentrate on her instead of his raw memories. Think of the last septhour, how they’d walked the Residence together and it hadn’t been as bad as he’d dreaded.
    Yes, they’d collaborate well—and be fiery in bed.
    â€œThen I won’t consult the ResidenceDen records,” she said. “We can start from the ground up, literally.”
    She made a note on the papyrus tablet. “Most of the furniture needs only to be cleaned or have minor repairs, then you can choose which to use and which to store.”
    That sounded like another in-depth tour. It wasn’t something he’d subject himself to. He sat up straight. “I don’t want the ResidenceDen, the Master- or MistrysSuite, my sister’s rooms or my old Heir’sSuite to remain the same in any way. As for the ballroom—” he sucked in a deep breath “—I will not step into that room. I’m not sure I want it to remain one room.” He waved a hand. “Consider alternatives.”
    Mitchella decided to find out what had happened in the ballroom as soon as possible. She tapped the drawstick on the papyrus. “GrandLord—Straif, why don’t we work this way, I’ll oversee the cleaning and refurbishing of your Family’s possessions in those chambers, make an inventory, and arrange the items to be stored. Then I’ll work up a proposal for each room for us to discuss and present you with holomodels. Does this sound acceptable to you?”
    Straif thought a moment. “Yes.”
    She nodded. “Very well.”
    â€œAhem,” said the Residence, in general audio mode.
    Mitchella jerked a little.
    Straif thought it was good that the Residence went audio. Mitchella was someone else for it to talk to. He was feeling surly to his home, and Lady and Lord knew that Drina was only interested in topics that related directly to her.
    Shaking her head, Mitchella laughed a little. “I’m not used to being addressed by Residences. Please feel free to advise me—”
    â€œWait.” Straif lifted a hand. “The Residence can advise, but I don’t want you making any changes based solely on its notions. All the final decisions are mine.”
    Her manner cooled