Page 92 of Never Tell Lies

“That’s dangerous, Lola.”

“I’ve gotten used to it.” I turned away and pulled some fresh underwear out of a drawer, my hands trembling slightly as I put them on. I’d never invited a man to my room before. Even Adam had never been here. I grabbed my brush and started fixing my hair up into a ponytail, watching as Alfie studied my room like a zoologist might study an animal’s natural habitat.

I watched him analyse every detail—the small purple monkey my father had won for me at a carnival when I was three, the photo collage Keira had given me for a birthday, my limited shoe collection tossed in a corner.

“Your family is interesting.”

“Interesting? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I just ‘put them out of the way?’” It had been such an odd thing to say and in the moment I’d ignored it, but I couldn’t deny that his immediate rejection of my crazy nephew stung.

“He shot an arrow at us.”

“It was plastic, and he’s just a child.” I kicked off my shoes. I’d had Alfie back for less than a day and already our differences were rearing their ugly head again. I dug around in my shoe pile and came up with a pair of red Converse. I slipped them on as Alfie eyed my pile of brightly coloured shoes with obvious distaste.

“Out of curiosity, what were you like as a child?” It was hard to imagine Alfie as anything other than the immaculate businessman I saw in front of me.

Alfie turned his attention from me to the jewellery tree perched on a shelf. He scrutinized each necklace, each earring, turning them over with delicate finger tips. “I was sent to boarding school young so I wasn’t a child very often, but I suppose I was a little like Ryan.”

“Really? Was your mum as patient as Natalie?” It was supposed to be a joke but the silence that followed sapped all of the humour out of the room.

“No. She wasn’t.” My chest constricted at the implication of his words. For once, I didn’t need him to fill in the blanks. He’d been ‘put out of the way’ a lot as a child. “These pieces aren’t all yours.” He gestured at the jewellery tree.

How does he know that?Had he noticed that they weren’t all my style? “No, some were my mum’s and the vintage pieces were my gran’s.”

His gaze continued around my room, landing on a framed photo of me and my mum.

“This is your mother?” He peered at the photo, his fingers tracing over the marks on the glass. When I was younger I had the habit of kissing it every day before I left for school. “You don’t look like her much.”

“No, the hair I got from my dad.” I’d grown to love my auburn hair, but when I was younger I was desperate for mymum’s blond curls. I turned to my wardrobe to select an outfit, feeling his watchful gaze over my shoulder. I picked out a deep green tennis dress and whipped my black dress over my head, changing quickly.

“You have so few clothes,” he said, a careless observation that had an angry blush creeping over my skin. His gaze was pensive as he looked around my room again. “Your life is very different from mine.”

“And you hate it.”

“I hate that,” he gestured in the direction of the broken floorboard. “I don’t understand this,” he waved a hand at my shoe pile. He cupped my cheek, tugging my lip free from my teeth. “But I like that you smile at your ghosts everyday.”

Okay, that could win him some brownie points.I felt my sharp edges soften a little. He tilted my chin up and?—

“Are you two going to kiss?” Alfie and I sprang apart, turning to see Ryan, still in his ‘helmet’ and ‘armour’.

“Ryan, you’re supposed to knock on the wall before you come up. What if I was naked up here?”

“Why would you be naked with a man in your room?”

Alfie snorted and I shot him a look. “Nevermind. Did you need something?”

“Mummy said to ask the manservant does he want a cup of tea.” Alfie looked at me for guidance but I said nothing, wanting to see what he would do. He paused, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. After a few moments, he turned back to Ryan.

“I would like that…your majesty.”

After I’d fixed my make up I headed downstairs, my sketchbook in hand. If Alfie was going to be working then I would needsomething to keep me busy. Working on my project seemed like a good idea.

Natalie was watching at the kitchen window and I joined her. Alfie was in the garden, crouching next to Ryan who was busy digging a hole.

“What are they doing?”

“Ryan was telling him about his ‘treasure.’ Your fella said he didn’t believe Ryan had any. Ryan’s proving him wrong.”

“And by ‘treasure’ you mean…”

---