Page 146 of False God

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There’s a knock on the door of my study. Rather than accomplish anything productive, I’m striking matches on the box I took from the restaurant I brought Lili to on our first—and really only—date. I moved it from the drawer next to my bed to my office when I got back from New York, wanting some reminder of her to stare at.

“Come in,” I call out.

Conrad appears a few seconds later. His nose wrinkles, smelling the smoke lingering in the air. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir.”

“What is it?”

“We appear to have a trespasser,” Conrad replies.

“A trespasser?” That catches my attention.

Conrad nods gravely. But there’s a glimmer of something in his expression that’s different from his typical stoicism.

“On the property?” I prompt. “Are you sure they’re not just … lost?”

Buckleby is a small town. Hardly a crime hotspot. And Newcastle Hall sits on twenty thousand acres. You could bewandering on the surrounding property without realizing so for a while.

“She’s standing in the gardens, sir.”

I spin in my chair and glance out the window.

For a few shocked seconds, I can’t move. Then, I stand so fast I nearly knock over my chair. “I’ll take care of it, Conrad.”

I make it downstairs and into the gardens in record time.

She hasn’t moved, still staring up at the cherry tree. Most of the stone fruit is gone, thanks to the thieving birds.

My heart is pounding so fast that it feels like it’s trying to beat out of my chest.

“You could have called,” I say.

Lili doesn’t turn around, continuing to look up at the leaves instead. “I don’t have your number. I deleted it, remember?”

She could have easily gotten my number the same way I did. I don’t say that.

“But you had my address?”

“I asked the car service to bring me to Newcastle Hall. Saw your convertible and knew I was in the right place.”

Lili spins to face me, wearing a navy blazer and a neutral expression. Her hair is perfectly straight, strands of it almost copper in the sunlight.

My gaze goes to her forehead first. There’s a pink line that’s about a half-inch long above her left eyebrow. The only evidence of how the gala two weeks ago ended.

“What are you doing here, Lili?” I ask softly.

She glances away at a starling that’s landed on a nearby bench. “I was in the neighborhood.”

“Buckleby?”

“Fine, vicinity. Ireland.”

“You got the job,” I infer. “Congratulations.”

“Yeah. They offered it to me while I was there. I haven’t accepted the position yet. They gave me a few days to decide,even though I had to push the second interview because of—” She clears her throat delicately, gesturing toward the thin scar. “Well, you remember. And since I was on this side of the Atlantic, I thought … I wanted to see you.”

She practically whispers those last five words.

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