Page 38 of Under the Lies

What’s going to happen tonight?

How do I act?

Will he hold my hand?

Try to kiss me?

Will I have to be by his side the entire night?

The banging on the door happens again. Faster. Louder. Angrier.

Stealing a breath, I stare at my reflection. “Showtime,” I whisper, moving toward the door. To Noah.

When I get there, I can feel the waves of anger rolling off him even with it still shut. It makes me happier than it probably should.

Not used to waiting, Mr. Kincaid?

With a smile, I open the door and lean against the frame. “You knocked?”

“I told you to be ready at nine-thirty.”

“And I was.” I swish my hips, making the skirt of my dress move between us.

He doesn’t bother to glance at it. “It’s nine thirty-three.”

My smile grows. “I know.”

Noah’s glare can only be described as chilling, far from amused by my antics.

“Let’s go,” he growls, reaching for me.

“Wait!” I jump out of his reach, watching his eyes narrow as I do.

“Why?”

“I need to grab my purse.”

Noah stares at me like I’m beyond dense. With a heavy sigh, he snaps, “Then go get it. Quickly.”

Touchy, touchy. Whatever he has planned tonight cannot be that time sensitive.

I resist the urge to flip him off before I disappear from the doorway and into my bedroom. His nasty attitude should be a warning to not poke him. Should being the keyword.

I don’t know why Noah makes me want to be bolder, to get under his skin like he does mine. The more he orders me around, the more I want to rebel.

Which is why after the clutch is in my hands, I stay in my room for a little longer than necessary.

Pan’s asleep on my bed and his engine-like purr sparks to light as I lean down to scratch his chin. My sweet child. His purring gets louder when he opens his green eyes. At first, I think it’s because he’s looking into the love of his life’s face—aka me—but then a throat clears behind me

“Oh my God!” I jump in the air, arms wild as I spin around to find Noah glaring in my doorway.

“This is what was so important? You wanted to pet your damn cat?”

The look I give him is nowhere close to the level of animosity he’s capable of, but I stare him down anyway. “He needs love.”

Pan nudges my hand and I take that as his agreement. I look to Noah like, see!

“He’s a cat,” he states as if I didn’t already know my pet’s species. “They love themselves enough. They don’t need your reassurance.”

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