Page 66 of Tangled In Lies

He smiles at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m doing very well, miss. Thank you for asking. I hear you’re hungry?”

I nod at him, one of my hands settling on my stomach. “Famished.”

Between my upset stomach and all the stress and nerves, I feel like I’ve only eaten two meals all week.

Huxley inclines his head, still smiling as if I just told him he won the lottery. “Well, enjoy your food. Mr. Montgomeryasked us to prepare something special for you this morning to help you feel better.”

Too stunned to speak, I simply nod and watch him push the cart to the front of the room where he parks it next to the oversized leather recliner.

A special meal Phoenix arranged for me? He didn’t mention anything.

“Don’t hesitate to call me over the house line if you need anything, miss. Bon appétit.”

“Thank you, Huxley. I appreciate it.”

He gives a little bow. “Anytime.” He straightens up again and starts when Holden walks into the room. “Oh, Mr. Donahue. Did you change your mind and want something to eat?”

Holden claps him on the arm, much gentler than he does with Phoenix, and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good for now, but thanks. Her Majesty and I are going to have a movie marathon, and I might give that popcorn machine in the corner a whirl.”

He gestures past the other rows of seats toward the back of the room, which houses several snack machines straight out of a movie theater as well as a fridge with cold drinks and a coffee machine, if I’m not mistaken.

Huxley nods at him. “Very well, sir. You know where to find me.”

We walk to the front and sink into the plush seats.

Holden grabs the remote and points it at the oversized screen. “What do you want to watch?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t really watched anything in forever.”

His stare burns into the side of my head. “What were you doing all week if you weren’t watching TV?”

I turn his way. “Studying and reading?”

He makes a noncommittal sound. “Oh my God, you’re almost as boring as Phoenix. He reads business reports and looks at houses in his free time.”

“Houses?”

“Yeah. He’s trying to find something for the foundation. It would be easier to build something from scratch to get exactly what we want, but that would also take a lot longer.”

I’m still mulling over that info when Holden directs his attention toward the food cart with undisguised curiosity in his eyes.

“What did he bring you?”

Nerves flutter in my midsection. I sit up taller and lift the lids to store them on the lower part of the cart.

My heart plummets straight into my stomach at the sight in front of me—animal face pancakes.

Connie and I used to make them together every weekend growing up, trying out a different animal every week. I haven’t had them in years. Not since before Connie died.

I close my eyes, willing the heat in them to subside. I will not cry over some dang pancakes.

But it’s no use. A single tear escapes my eye, and I swipe it off my cheek.

Holden clears his throat. “You okay, Princess?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” I hum, not trusting myself enough to speak.

I grab one of the plates and stare down at the lion—a round pancake with a strawberry mane and nose, blueberry eyes, and a chocolate chip mouth.

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