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“Let’s hope it doesn’t. Shall we sit?”
I blow out a harsh breath and relax back into the seat as Mason, Malcolm, and Mrs Jefferys take their places at the table. Charlie leans into my space and whispers into my ear, “Scarlet Lowell, I can smell a rat from a mile away.”
I suck my lips into my mouth and turn toward him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
We’re both wearing knowing smiles, and it’s impossible to hide.
“Be fucking careful, you little shit. You’ll send your brother bald.”
I glance around the ballroom, hating how he can see through me so easily. “For a smart man, you sure like talking in riddles, Charles.”
“Lance didn’t cancel that meeting. Want to know how I know that?”
“Nope. Couldn’t care less.”
“I was scheduled in.”
I turn to look at him again as I butter my bread roll.
“You think Mason would sign anything without having me check over it first? Harry called me to cancel, said you’d been in.”
“I—”
“Be. Fucking. Careful.”
“I—”
“I trust him. I trust you—”
“Nothing has—”
“And I’m here. Always.”
“Charlie, whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.”
“Okay, but hear me. You know we’re all here, yes?”
I nod my head and take a sip of my drink, feeling guilty when I know I have nothing to feel guilty about. Lance did exactly what Mason asked him to do today. Remove the conversation at the penthouse about penis extenders and wife duties, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t share with my brother about the day.
I lift my eyes, and they lock on Lance’s.
Deep, dark, needy and on me.
Needy for what? I don’t know. But they call to me. They make me doubt everything in my head. Because there’s not a soul on earth that I’d want to let see the inner reaction I get whenever those eyes catch me.
I lean into Charlie. “Why is he always so angry?”
“Who?” he asks, baiting me.
“Mason’s friend. Lance, isn’t it?”
He chuckles under his breath and peers across at his friend. Lance glares hard back at him before looking toward the bar.
“It’s none of my business.”
“But you trust him.”
“I do.”
