“I’m Ruby…” The girl waves her hand in front of herself awkwardly. When I ignore her, she turns slightly. “Okay, anyway, follow me and I’ll show you where you’re both staying.” The house smells like caramel salted popcorn. Music floats through the space as we follow her up the wooden stairs. Family portraits hang on the walls, but nothing like where we just came from. Where the mother we were used to seeing had sadness in her eyes, Ruby’s sparkle with love as she looks up at—

“—What’s your dad’s name?” I ask as we hit the top.

She cusses under her breath as if she isn’t surprised her father left out an important detail. “Victor La Rosa.”

I continue to follow her down the long hallway, passing multiple doors that are closed. An opened one catches my eye and I pause, glancing inside briefly. Walls painted yellow with white cornices and posters hanging on the walls. More music pours out of her room—something unfamiliar. Never heard it.

Her little face fills the space instantly, the door shutting off my view to her room. I look down at her, watching as her pouty lips disappear when she curls them beneath her teeth.

Shit.

Why does she have to be so cute?

“How old are you?” I tilt my head to the side. It isn’t intentional, but when her cheeks flush and she ducks out of my space, I’m thinking she maybe thought it was. She’s shy.

Ruby La Rosa…

“Seventeen.” Same age as me. Worked. Don’t feel like a complete fucking creep perving on her. But she’s way too fucking shy for the girls I know around her age.

She widens the door beside her room and gestures inside. “It might be a tight fit for both of you on that bed, but it’s comfortable.”

My eyes narrow, and when hers swing back onto mine, I realize what she is implying.

“She’s my sister.”

“Oh.” Her brows hit her hairline. “Well, then she can sleep in here and you can have the room opposite.”

I shake my head. “I’ll take the floor in her room.”

“Okay.” Ruby runs her hands down her arms. She has a small body. I’d crush her if I touched her. “Well, I’ll get some clothes for her to wear and leave you both to—” She waves her hand up and down my body. “Wash up.” She quickly scatters off, leaving me thinking who the fuck Victor La Rosa is, and why the hell would he allow someone like me into his house where he keeps someone like her.

The room is larger than mine at our house and has its own bathroom. We aren’t this kind of rich, but we have money.

Shit.