Page 71 of House of Lies

Myles’s a selfish bastard. He had to have known what she’d do to me. How she’d make me feel.

None of this is her fault, though. I can act as possessive and petty as I want, but she’s not mine. She belongs to Myles.

“Did you have anything else lined up after this?”

“Um…no. I don’t think so.” She’s feeling her way carefully again, and I don’t blame her. “Why?”

“Were you going back to Balmont after this?”

She says nothing, simply watching me with wide, green eyes over the brim of her wineglass.

“Come with me to the city tomorrow. Myles can collect you from my apartment.”

She looks mildly panicked. “I have to return the car.”

That’s right. I saw a car parked in the drive a few yards behind my Aston Martin when I went to fetch the G-Wagon from the garage earlier today. Strange. I thought Myles said he’d sent Cassidy with a driver. Guess it made more sense for her to drive herself.

“That’s Myles’s problem, not yours.”

Chapter 27

Cassidy

I came to the library to calm myself. Books always had that effect on me. I used to lose myself in solving mysteries alongside Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, absolutely devoured the Goosebumps series, and read just about anything Terry Pratchett wrote.

But I didn’t go in search of an old favorite. I’m intrigued by Ethan’s job, and I’m guessing there’s something in here about gemology.

I curled up in one of the overstuffed wingback chairs facing the dead fireplace, a copy of Gemstones of the World in my lap, nursing my glass of wine as I flipped through the colorful pages.

But I’ve been staring at the cold, dark hearth of the library’s fireplace for a while now, eyes unfocused as worrying thoughts tumble through my mind.

How long will it take the rental car company before they report their car stolen? I told them I only needed it for the day, and that was three days ago. I assume they’re just adding charges to my credit card for every day I have it…but at some stage my bank’s going to let them know I’ve hit my limit.

That’s Myles’s problem.

Who the hell is this Myles guy, anyway? And why does Ethan think he’s the one that sent me here? I’m so fucking confused, but if I don’t go along with this, Ethan’s going to ask all the wrong questions.

And just when am I going to admit defeat? After the open house? When I’m in the city? I’ve already let things go too far, but I feel like I’m stuck in quicksand.

Too scared to fight, because I just keep sinking deeper.

I groan as I stretch out my legs before tucking them under me again.

All the manual labor from the past few days has finally caught up with me. My feet, legs, shoulders, and back hurt something fierce, but those aches and pains are simmering down now that I’m on my second glass of wine.

Ethan disappeared to his bedroom after our early supper, leaving me to fend for myself in his massive—if sparkling clean—mansion.

I page through the book again. One gem catches my eye, and I set my wineglass down on the coffee table beside the chair. Putting a hand down the front of the hoody Ethan brought me this morning, I tug free the necklace I’ve been wearing almost every day for the past six months.

The chain is an elaborate yellow gold set with tiny diamonds, which in itself is stunning, but the pendant is absolutely jaw dropping. The dark, almost black, oval stone is larger than my thumbnail, with a flurry of green and red dots inside that shift when the light hits it.

“Here you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I jolt in surprise, hastily shoving the necklace back behind my hoody. Ethan appears, a faint smile on his mouth as he sees me reading one of his books. I love the way his muscles fill out his sweater. Reminds me just how small I am compared to him. How powerful he is. How unstoppable when he wants his way.

Hurriedly clearing my throat, I will my cheeks to stop glowing. “Here I am.”

“Found this in my junk drawer,” he says, holding up a phone charger. “Have no idea if it still works, but you’re welcome to try.”

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