Page 122 of Between the Lines

Painful. But advantageous.

Mandy’s company has rented a large mansion high up in the Hills for the launch event. It’s all square angles and white plaster walls, like one out of a dozen. The driver drops me off at the gate and disappears down the narrow, curved road. As I approach the building, I hear the music drifting from the inside.

Charlotte will already be there. I texted her earlier, and she said that she’d take a rideshare here.

Security is on either side of the entrance. I give my name, and I’m waved inside. After surrendering my phone.

I fucking hate having to part with it.

But it’s the whole vibe they are going for here: the security protocol, the secrecy. I’m forced to trust that adequate procedures are in place and that my phone won’t get stolen or broken into. Hacked and misused.

The venue smells thickly of incense and something else, like a heavy fragrance. I walk past a group of women sporting high heels, lingerie, and long wavy hair.

Mandy and her business partners have gone full-out.

I can only imagine what Charlotte will say about this place.

Entering the main living space, I spot a waiter in a floor-length silk robe, walking around with a tray of drinks. He’s paradoxically the most dressed person here.

Him and me both, because I’m still in my suit from work.

I recognize a slew of people. Some are from Mandy’s circle of friends, others are minor celebrities. One or two are fairly famous. Seems like all the stops have been pulled out for this party.

But nowhere is a five foot seven woman, with a lean body and long light-brown waves that fall past her shoulders. No blue eyes that sparkle with excitement.

I wander outside. Dulcet tones play from a DJ’s booth set up by the short side of the pool. Several people are in the water, their hair drenched. Giant inflatables decorate the pool. I flag down a waiter and grab a drink off the tray. It looks like a martini, and I drain half of it in one go.

That’s when I see her.

Standing on the other side of the pool, her back to me. Long legs stuck in a pair of strappy heels that look like the ones she’d gotten for the movie premiere.

Those endless legs are entirely bare. All the way up to the very tops of her thighs, where they’re kissed by the hem of a dress. If it can be called that. It’s more of a lingerie than anything—virtually sheer and hemmed in lace. It flares from her narrowwaistline, creating anAshape from what looks like a bra with thin straps that hug her bare shoulders.

The only thing I can do is stare.

It’s Charlotte, but as a cream puff. A tantalizing sweet delicacy in black lace.

I move before I remember giving my legs the command. There’s a group of chatting guys in the way, and I push past them, barely registering the huff of annoyance.

Only when I make it past the crowd do I realize she’s chatting with someone. A man. I see his face clearly, and,fuck, it’s Logan Edwards. Like the other week. He had been too interested in her then, too.

I drain the other half of the martini. There are no ties between Charlotte and me, not officially. Those two fucking rules govern everything between us.

They’re good rules. Sane rules. Very pragmatic, utterly respectable, very useful. Relationships take time. They can cost you, too. Nothing hurts like being betrayed. I should know. So, very good rules. It was great of Charlotte to establish them.

Even if I want to break them every single time I see her.

I walk up to her side. Logan catches my gaze first, and he smiles widely.

“Hey, man. Figured you’d be here.”

I stand closer to Charlotte than a mere friend would and reach out to shake his hand. “Hey. Glad you made it. I know it means a lot to Mandy.”

He shrugs a little. “It’s a cool party. I got a goodie bag.” He holds up the purple silk bag, and his face reminds me of a kid in the candy store. It’s the sort of endearing, boyish look that has gotten him so far in movies. A flush is lingering on his cheeks, either from the alcohol or the thrill of being at the “no phones” party.

Things were different a few years ago. Now, the room changes when he walks into it. People on the street turn around. I know what that’s like, to a lesser degree, and would empathize with him on a normal evening. An evening where heisn’tchatting up Charlotte.

Again.

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