“I asked you,” he growled, taking a heavy step toward me, “a question.”

“Your laundry,” I replied casually, waving my hand toward the basket on the couch. “You never mentioned you were a historian–”

“This room is off limits,” he said, cutting me off.

Well, this wouldn’t do. I wasn’t even close to finished looking through his treasure trove. He stopped short of me, crossing his arms over his chest. I did the same, mimicking his ...