Page 84 of House of Lies

“Fine, you got me.” He smooths a hand down the front of his shirt. “You weren’t answering my texts, okay? I had to come talk some sense into you.”

“Christ. I told you I’m done.” I veer around him and head back inside, aiming for the kitchen so I can pour myself a glass of wine. I’ve never really liked the taste of champagne…except on Cassidy’s lips, of course.

“Come on, man!” Angelo calls after me. “Can we at least talk about it?”

“I need a fucking drink,” I mutter, more to myself than for his benefit.

Angelo grabs a beer out of the fridge as I uncork the bottle of red I sealed last night after pouring myself one glass. I’d been trying to muster up the courage to ask Cassidy back to my room, but I chickened out after she kept staring at me with hooded green eyes. She needed rest, not more fucking, and I said goodnight and left her to it.

“Can’t be easy, having all these people in your house,” Angelo says as an elderly couple saunters past in view of the kitchen, heads bowed as they murmur to each other. “Not an introvert like you.”

“The realtor suggested I leave for the day,” I admit grudgingly. “I should have listened to him.”

“Hell, no,” Angelo says through a laugh. “You’d come back and half your shit would be gone.”

I smile stiffly at him. That would hardly be the case, but I don’t correct him.

He looks much older than he should, like he’s aged disproportionately to the time that’s lapsed since I last saw him. His neatly trimmed brown hair is sprinkled with gray, and the two lines beside his mouth are deeper than I remember. How long has it been?

Sighing, I grudgingly let him draw me into conversation. Maybe if we hash this out in person, he’ll understand how determined I am to close this chapter of my life.

“How have you been?” I ask as I lean over the kitchen counter.

Angelo sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Not great.” He laughs softly. “But you can fix that.”

I close my eyes, letting out a long sigh. “You’re not going to change my mind.”

He shrugs a little. “You always were stubborn as a fucking mule.”

Me? Stubborn? I scoff into my wineglass. No, Cassidy is stubborn. I’m just…determined. Where is she, anyway? I haven’t seen her since she bolted into that guest room after I?—

Hurriedly cutting off that line of thought, I clear my throat. “Look, I’ll speak to Myles. Maybe he’s got something for you to look at.”

Angelo shakes his head, taking a long swallow of beer. “That guy doesn’t like me for shit.”

“What makes you say that?”

Another shake of his head, this one harder. Angelo rests his hip against the kitchen island, twisting his beer on its axis, head down. “Think I haven’t tried speaking to him? Fucker won’t take my calls.” He glances up at me, and for a moment there’s nothing but spite in his eyes. “Remind you of someone?”

I straighten, frowning hard, but Angelo gives me a wide smile. “Kidding, Ethan. I’m kidding.”

Sure as hell didn’t look like it, but I give him the benefit of the doubt. I’d feel sorry for the man if I hadn’t tried time and time again to get him to wise up about his finances.

Angelo looks around the kitchen. “God, I can’t believe how little this place has changed. It’s like she’s still here.”

My already sour mood drops like a stone. I grunt into my wine, downing most of it before I carefully set down the glass.

I hired Angelo as an ad hoc client liaison shortly after I moved into Glenmont Manor. Before that, I’d been meeting with all my clients personally, sometimes traveling across the country to broker deals, but that all changed when I met Becks. Suddenly there was nowhere else I’d rather be than at home.

Things were going so well. Business was booming. Becks and I were trying for a kid. I was finally on my way to getting the family I’d always wanted.

And then it all came crashing down like a house of cards.

“Look, Angelo, it was good to see you, but?—”

He holds up a hand. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You want to move on with your life, and here I am, dragging you down like a fucking anchor.” He drains the last of his beer and leaves the empty on the counter. “Can I at least use your facilities before you kick me to the curb?”

I wave a hand toward the guest bathroom. “Sure. You know where it is.”

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