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You’re lying right now.
Ahh. Yeah. Okay. Now she understood his hesitation. She really shouldn’t be trusted.
“I’ll get something to clean it up with,” Beck told her.
Shoot.
Why did he have to be helpful? Why couldn’t he be more like Ian?
Crap. Had she really just wished that pleasant, quiet Beck was more like antagonistic, grouchy Ian?
She was losing it.
Uncle Willy reached out and grasped hold of her wrist. Hard. She winced and had to stifle a cry of pain. Tears filled her eyes, but she couldn’t let any sign of her pain escape in case Beck heard.
Why the heck wasn’t this place more soundproof?
And yes, she was aware of the irony since she had just been thinking the opposite before. But they were her thoughts.
“No!” she cried out.
Monkeyballs.
“I mean, I’ve already got something to clean it up. No need to bother yourself. Uh, you need to carry on bodyguarding. Righty-ho!”
Righty-ho?
Who the fuck said righty-ho? She was definitely losing it.
“You sound strange. I think I should come in,” Beck replied.
“You can’t! I’m naked!” It was the first thing that came to her mind. And now he was going to think she was a total nutjob. Because why would she be in her uncle’s room naked?
A groan escaped her.
Uncle Willy glared at her. “Why are you lying? Who is that man? Is he your lover?”
“What? No! He has a woman, Uncle. You met her. Chloe.”
Too late, she remembered that he thought she was Lia.
“Why are you calling me uncle?” He released her wrist, which was an immense relief, but then he grabbed his head.
Monkeyballs. She needed to get him to relax. To sleep. This stress wasn’t good for him.
“We’re all good, Beck. Thank you.”
She prayed he just left. When there were no other noises, she sighed with relief. After locking the door, she turned to her uncle, who was staring around in shock. She moved closer to him. “Why don’t you take a nap?”
He shook his head. “What is happening? Why is a man visiting you while you’re naked, Lia?”
He lunged, pushing her back. She stumbled, stepping on the glass with a wince. She’d taken her shoes and socks off when she’d entered the house earlier. So there was nothing to protect her bare feet as she stood on the shattered glass vase.
Agony shot through her left foot and she had to breathe through the pain in order not to let out a scream.
Damn. Talk about amazing self-control.
It wasn’t like she was a stranger to pain. She’d lived with it for years. Still did.
