Page 100 of Her Brother's Billionaire Best Friend

“Did something happen lastnight?” A chill went through me at the thought. There had neverbeen an assault here, and only a few instances of members actinginappropriately toward other guests. I didn’t want more of thoseincidents, and certainly nothing that would hurt Charlotte. “Didsomeone hurt you or—”

“No!” She waved her handspalms down in the universal “no way” sign. “Absolutely not. At all.Last night was wonderful. The whole place is wonderful. I…” Shestopped herself.

“Go on,” I urged hergently.

She rolled her eyes. Icould tell it was meant for herself, not directed at me. Shebrushed her hair back from her forehead, the strands falling lazilydown her shoulders again. “It sounds like a cliché, but I have ahard time getting close to people. I think that after last night,and then this morning… You started to feel a little too good to betrue.”

My eyebrows shot up. Iwasn’t sure I’d ever had someone say that about me,tome before. “Andthat’s a problem.”

“It is,” she confirmedgrimly. “Because then I feel like I don’t deserve you. You know, inthe friendship sense.”

I noted how quickly she’dmade that addendum. It did something awful to the inside of mychest. “You don’t have to deserve me.”

She said nothing, but two littlequestioning lines appeared between her brows.

“I get todecide whether or not you’re deserving. And I’ve decided that youdon’t have to. There’s nothing to prove here, Charlotte. I likeyou.”Careful…“I’m honored and flattered and extremely grateful that youseem to like me too.”

She considered for amoment, then smiled. And right away, I recognized what the smilewas: a mask. A people-pleasing mask, a change-the-subjectdeflection that was supposed to convey how okay she was. “You cansay that you think you’re uncool and I’m very cool and you’rethankful such a cool person like me would be yourfriend.”

I chuckled and nodded and let her getaway with it.

CHAPTER THIRTY

(Charlotte)

After our moment ofhonesty, it was so easy to be with Matt. I almost found myselfforgetting that we weren’t in the real world. We got up, we atebreakfast, we made flirty little double entendres while we lazedaround in the sun. We went to one of the pools with a swim up barand I tried a drink that was way too strong. We ate lunch at theenormous buffet—although, I probably wouldn’t have put a buffet ina sex resort. At least, sex wasn’t allowed in the diningestablishments. Still, I couldn’t help but think of whereeverybody’s hands had been as they picked up ladles andtongs.

The sun was going down whenMatthew suggested we use the massive soaking tub on the bedroombalcony.

“I think when it’s thissize, it’s an aboveground pool,” I said, dipping my toes into thecool water. It was way too hot out for anything warmer than“tepid.”

“I think you’d findsomething to complain about if I took you to Buckingham Palace,” hequipped.

“Jokes on you, I cancomplain about Buckingham Palace without having to go there.” Iheld up one dripping hand and started listing things off. “First,waste of taxpayer money. Second, it’s ugly. It looks like theworld’s most boring wedding cake. Just this big gray box sittingthere—”

He held up his hands. “Isurrender.”

“Have you ever been there?”I wondered if all rich people knew each other.

“I was there for a weddingreception,” he confirmed.

“Charles and Di?” Iguessed.

He made an outraged noise,followed by a splash of water directed at me that was so big, I wassurprised it didn’t empty the tub. While I sputtered and laughed,he informed me, “I wasn’t even born yet! How dare you!”

“I don’t know when they gotmarried,” I said in my defense, blinking water from my eyelashes.“Gosh, so touchy.”

“My fortieth birthday istomorrow,” he reminded me. “I am in no mood.”

“Please, like turning fortyever stopped a man from doing anything. Meanwhile, I’m one birthdayaway from never having a chance with Leonardo DiCaprio.” It wasdeeply unfair. Not the DiCaprio thing. The entire concept of agingas a woman, versus aging as a man.

He looked a littleuncomfortable. I’d crossed a line that I hadn’t been aware of. So,I waited with a questioning expression until he admitted, “I’mweird about my age because my dad died young. Like…young,young.”

“Forty?” Wouldn’t that be aweird and awful coincidence?

“No, no.” He paused.“Forty-one.”

“Jesus.” I’d heard oftenenough that I was too young to understand how short life is, blah,blah, blah, but I wasn’t so consumed with my allegedly carelessyouth that I didn’t know that was a young age to go.

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