Chapter Thirty Two

“Who was that?” Ivan questioned.

“My neighbor,” I replied dryly.

“He’s a guy.”

“No shit, Sherlock Holmes. You could give Cumberbatch a run for his money with those excellent skills of deduction.” I snorted.

Ivan picked up the shoe box. “A guy who’s your neighbor and buys you Gucci?”

I snatched the box from him, set it on the sofa, and glared at him. “And Shaw’s about as straight as a fucking Oreo, so I’m not sure what the problem is. I’m not even sure there should be a problem.”

Angus jumped from his perch on the windowsill and hissed at Ivan. I rubbed my hand across my eyes, walk to the kitchen, and grabbed a can of food from the cupboard.

“Angus,” I cooed, tapping the can against his food bowl.

He prowled across the kitchen and dived in. 

Problem solved.

“You have a cat?”

“Obviously.” I placed my hands on my hips and turned to him. “What do you want?”

Ivan walked to me and cupped m