Freaks (Dirty Nasty Freaks, #3)

by Callie Hart

“No one’s supposed to be here,” he muttered under his breath. Silencing the engine, he got out of the car, a stony expression marring his features. I got out after him, my legs complaining as I stretched them. “Are you going to tell me where here is?” I asked. Fix displayed an uncharacteristic level of discomfort as he faced the house, shoving his hands into his pockets. “This,” he said tightly, “is my parent’s house. Or rather it was. It’s mine now.” Ho-ly fuck. I didn’t want to be that girl, gawking in shock over someone’s surprise wealth, but this was just fucking ridiculous. In a city where space was at a premium, the penthouse back in Brooklyn was huge, so I’d known he had money. But this wasn’t money. This was rich. My-ancestors-were-founding-members-of-the-country-and-made-billions-during-the-oilrush-of-eighteen-sixty-seven kind of rich. I tried not to react, but my surprise must have been all too obvious. “You can say it.” Fix’s eyes were hard as flint. “It’s fucking obnoxious.” “It’s not obnoxious. It’s just… it’s…” “Obnoxious. It’s bigger than a department store.” He began walking to toward the front door. “Shouldn’t we wake Monica?” Fix bent down and looked through the window at the sleeping woman, the bridge of his nose crinkled. “She’s dead to the world. I’ll send Richard out for her in a little while.” “Richard?” Sighing, Fix rubbed at the back of his neck. “My father’s man.” I must have been pulling a face, because Fix clarified. “His butler. My father had a...