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Crap. I roll my lips as I pull on a different dress. A Valentino gown with beautiful beading. “How important was it?” I ask, stepping back out into the room. The zip is low on the dress, so I don’t ask him for any help. Instead, I go and stand in front of the mirrors, admiring the beautiful yet lightweight train that trails behind me.
“Important.”
I cut my eyes to him, finding his attention and gaze firmly locked on me. Something fizzles in the air between us, and I do my best not to look away. The last thing I want him to think is that he has an effect on me. “Do you have an opinion on this one?” I ask, knowing I’m opening myself up to more trouble.
His tongue swipes through his cheek before his chin lifts. “I don’t hate it.”
My lip curls and I hide that too, this time turning. “I’m sorry that I cancelled your meeting. I was being childish.”
“Don’t try redeeming yourself. It won’t work on me, and you’re far too deep in the hole. It’s your brother you should be apologising to. I was closing on a thirty-six-million-pound contract with Malcolm Jefferys this morning. Mase will be pissed at you.”
Fuck.
Masonwillbe livid.
The idea of pissing him off or disappointing him is harder to think about than it should be. My brother’s no angel.
“He missed your birthday, though. So maybe you’ll get away with it?” He gives me a pointed look as if his logic makes sense and belongs in a history book.
That, or he’s laughing at me.
Mason works hard to keep the business at the professional level it’s at. Lance has to be a huge part of that to be closing contracts with the big guys. Mason trusts this guy. “How come I’ve never heard of you before?” I ask, my brows drawing together.
Lance takes a couple of steps forward. My focus is glued to him in the mirror. “I guess it’s the same reason I didn’t know about you….”
Mason doesn’t talk about me. He probably doesn’t talk to anyone about Dad or me—the house. It sends a pang of sadness through my chest, and I have to look away to stop my eyes from misting.
Finding some composure, I turn to face Lance, feeling the need to explain the dysfunction that comes with the Lowell name. “Mason doesn’t come out to the house—like ever. It’s so far away, and with Dad… Truthfully, I don’t visit him much either.” I swallow around the lump in my throat as my eyes dart around Lance’s handsome face. “It just gets hard when you feel like you don’t know anything about your family. What they’re doing in life or what they’re feeling. The half-ass conversations are great, but what’s hurting you, you know? What’s making you happy? Or heavy. Or even a little richer? It’s those kinds of things you should help and support them with in life, right? The things you should want to carry for them, so they don’t have to do it all alone.”
Lance’s phone rings in his pocket, but he doesn’t reach for it. He just stares at me, a slight nod moving his head as if in understanding, yet it’s so slight, I could be imagining it.
When the phone starts to ring out for a second time, he pulls it from his pocket and brings it to his ear. “Mum?”
Those eyes. It’s as if they’re telling me everything and yet nothing at all.
He turns, and I sag in relief, not realising how intense the energy in the room has grown.
I hear him clear his throat. “No, I can’t tonight. I’m out… A work thing… No, Mum…” His back goes rigid, and I roll my lips, slipping past him and behind the divide.
My hands shake slightly as I unzip the dress and pull it down my body. Why did I ramble on? I just made it painfully obvious that I’m an absolute loner. Not that I care. I love my little life. The estate and the grounds. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“You’re delusional, Mum, you know that? Fucking delusional.”
I frown and look over my bare shoulder, finding Lance now pacing the room. When his eyes lock with mine, he stops. He sees the gown at my waist, my breasts exposed and barely concealed by my arm, but enough that I don’t hide from him.
Goose bumps sheath me.
His jaw clenches, and he carries on forward. “Enough…. Enough, Mum. I’ll come out,” he says, a little raspier than before.
Does that mean he’s leaving?
The silence stretches in the room for the longest time, and I think about the conversation he must be having as I slide my summer dress back on and then my sandals.
When I emerge from behind the divider moments later, he’s gone.
Three knocks sound on the door, and I wait as the assistant walks in. “Scarlet. The green dress, as requested by your husband.” She adds it to the rail and smiles. “Anything else you think you might like to try today?”
I walk to where the dresses hang and run my fingers over the deep-green silk gown. It’s cute.
