He’s clearly an athlete.

“Bathroom, second bathroom…” He stops at the top of the stairs, and I nearly ram into him. “There’s ten, just in case you get bored. Oh, and they’re themed because why not? Mom gets bored.” He smirks and then keeps walking. “My room is on the second floor with another theater room.” He turns a hard right. “Work out room is in the basement, which, since I see absolutely zero muscle on your scrawny body, I’m assuming you don’t care to see.” Another evil smirk. “My parents’ primary suite is the entire third floor, definitely don’t go up there unless you want to be scarred for life.” He shudders. “Pool house and guest house are outside, there’s an indoor sauna near the workout room, and an outdoor bar along with an indoor one on every single floor, if you want to raid it, it’s not locked, my dad fully believes in the whole drinking at home if you’re going to drink which I actually stand by since the last thing I need is to get caught partying and get kicked off the team.” He sighs and shoves a hand in his pocket. “The drugs are, however, under lock and key, especially the mushrooms.”

I let out a shocked gasp.

He bursts out laughing. “That was almost too easy. Do you really think my dad would do drugs, let alone have them in the house? Though I do hear microdosing is huge now.” He keeps walking. “My room’s to the left, more guest rooms down the hall, and…” He pulls out his phone and fires off a text.

I wait, feeling awkward as I stare at myself in one of the large mirrors in the hall next to some weird-looking statue that I’m sure cost more than my entire life.

“Fuck.” Ambrose puts his phone back in his pocket. “And apparently, because my dad enjoys torturing me, your room is right over here, across the hall.”

“Should we draw a line in chalk or something?” I joke.

He looks ready to laugh, then shrugs. “Or make a pillow fort, might be more appropriate. God knows my mom has enough throw pillows to smother everyone in Boise to death—no chalk though, fresh out of that.”

“And here I thought you’d still be playing with it. My bad.” I joke, trying to get a jab in.

He stills and locks eyes with me. “Are you going to be an annoying little problem, Belle?”

“That depends.” I take a brave step forward. “Are you going to be a rich asshole?”

“A truce then.” He holds out his hand. “Stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of yours, smile when you’re in public, don’t make the family look bad, and remember we aren’t friends at school. I already have those, don’t need one more.” He eyes me up and down. “And we really need to do something about your wardrobe.”

I hug my chest. “Kind of hard when you’ve been bouncing from house to house.”