Page 95 of False God

“Actually … Charles asked me for the address this morning.” Theo glances in the rearview mirror. At me. Everyone else is looking at me too. “I wasn’t sure if he was actually coming …”

I say nothing, staring at the car as I rein in the emotions ricocheting through me.

He changed his mind. He came. Mostly, I’m happy about it. But I’m also apprehensive. Not only because of the tense terms we parted on, but because those tense terms told me I was getting too attached.

“Is that aBugatti?” Jasper asks.

“Looks like the Divo,” Tripp responds.

Hugo whistles. “What are those? Three? Four?”

“Almost six,” Tripp says.

“Six what?” Fran questions. Without waiting for an answer, she bangs against the back of Jasper’s seat. “Can you get out, Jas?”

“Million,” Hugo breathes. “Do you think he’ll let me drive it?”

I climb out of the car, pulling the seat forward for Fran before continuing toward the front door. Everyone else seems to hang back.

The air-conditioning feels heavenly against my skin—coated with a combination of sweat, sunscreen, and salt water—as I walk through the entryway and toward the kitchen. The wall of glass doors shows off the dazzling view of the pool and the ocean past it.

Charlie is standing next to one of the loungers, scowling as he talks into the phone.

He runs a hand through his hair, then grips the back of his neck before turning around. I watch as my presence registers on his face. His attention stays on me as he continues talking on the phone.

A few seconds later, Charlie hangs up and heads toward me.

His attractiveness hits me all over again, like I’m seeing him for the first time.

The sound of the door sliding open and closed only amplifies the charged silence. No one else has come inside yet. They’re all drooling over his car or gossiping about us probably.

He speaks first. “Lili.”

“Charles.” I keep my tone cool.

He doesn’t leave a polite amount of distance between us, like I expected. He stops inches away, his hand reaching out and his fingers curling around my left wrist. Charlie lifts my arm to inspect my palm, then twists it to look at my shoulder.

The scabs have started to flake away, revealing the healed skin beneath.

“How’d you make time in your busy schedule for a trip to France?” I ask.

One corner of his mouth kicks up before he drops his hold on my wrist. Hopefully, he couldn’t feel how fast my pulse was fluttering. “I’m here for work.”

Wrong answer.

I cross my arms. “What kind of work are you doinghere?”

“None in this house. But since I was in Saint-Tropez, I thought I’d stop by.”

“Lucky us,” I drawl. “Getting a visit from aduke.”

A muscle in Charlie’s jaw jumps. I’m pleased—and a little nervous—about it. Poking bears comes with consequences.

“Cut the duke shit, Lili. I know I?—”

“Acted like an uppity arsehole?”

He shakes his head. Smiles faintly. “I didn’t mean it the way you thought I did. You have ajob, a career that comes with vacation time. I have arole, duties that I can never separate from. That’s all I meant.”

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