Before Vic can lead me to my room, he stops, turning toward me with an unreadable expression that makes my stomach flip.

“Give me your phone,” he says.

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“I need your location at all times.”

I let out a slow, exaggerated gasp. “At all times? Wow, I didn’t take you for the possessive type.”

He exhales sharply, clearly unimpressed with my antics. “You’ll be with my daughters outside of the home. I need to know where you are. You could be going to see a boyfriend or…a friend with benefits during working hours.”

My lips twitch, but I fight the smirk. He’s watching me carefully, waiting for a reaction, but I don’t give him one.

Instead, I casually unlock my phone and pass it to him with a sweet smile. “Aww, if you wanted to know about my love life, you could’ve just asked.”

He doesn’t look up while his fingers expertly navigate my settings. “So, do you have a boyfriend, Ms. Kind?”

I lean in just enough to tease, but not enough to touch. “No.”

A look of satisfaction flickers in his eyes, a look of satisfaction. “Good to know.” He mutters, then finishes whatever he’s doing and hands my phone back.

I glance down and scoff. “You turned on our mutual location sharing? You do realize this means I now have access to your whereabouts, too?”

Vic smirks, stepping closer, his voice low. “Guess that means you’ll always know exactly where to find me.”

I clear my throat, acting completely unfazed. “Noted.” I say, mimicking his earlier response.

He grins, and with a silent exhale, I follow him as he finally leads me to the large bedroom that’s nearly the size of my entire house.

“This will be your room. I hope it’s large enough for you,” Large enough? He’s seen my nice but very modest home. This room is practically a guest house! Keeping my cool as if I’m used to living like a queen, I nod. Then, he leads me toward the expansive closet. “I know you have your own wardrobe, but I took the liberty of having my team buy a few casual and formal outfits for our scheduled outings and any other business events that might come up.”

“So, my clothes aren’t good enough?” I tease in mock offense.

He quickly backpedals, “Uh, no! I didn’t mean that at all.”

Laughing off his discomfort, I reassure him, “Just kidding, Mr. Grimes. I don’t have any fancy clothes. I usually just borrow Serena’s.” I shrug.

“Good because she’s the one who picked these out.” He reveals with a hint of pride in his voice.

I raise an eyebrow, suspicious yet intrigued. “Hmm, I’m impressed. But chatting it up with my ultra-gorgeous best friend? Not cool.”