“Send him in.”
My hand runs over my mouth as I stare down at the photo on my desk. It was taken in Paris. Nina is smiling at the camera, and you can tell she has turned and caught me by the way the dimple pops on her full cheek.
“Lowell.”
Lifting my eyes, I nod my head in greeting. “I told Charles and Elliot,” I tell him, straight to the point. Standing, I slide my hands into my pockets and round my desk, leaning back against it. “About Marcus.”
I knew Lance would be pissed about me telling them, but I also know he will back me. He always has.
“Right, and what now?” Lance asks, rolling his lips.
“Nothing, Charlie wants all we have, but otherwise, nothing changes.”
He nods his head. “Does Nina know?”
“No, and I want it to stay that way. I won’t have her involved.”
“I agree.”
“Agree with what?” Elliot asks, walking into the office, Charlie following in behind, both looking sharp in their Armani suits.
“I don’t want Nina to know–in fact.” Pushing off from the desk, I step closer to them, eyeing them all. “It goes no further than here. I won’t have anyone else dragged into this. Understand?”
Lance nods in understanding, and Elliot gives me a wink. “Pixie promise, mate.”
“Prick,” I tell him, unamused. Charlie stands statue-still, his hands in his pockets not saying a word. “Charles?”
He licks at his bottom lip. “And if she leaves you?”
“Then she leaves me. I’m pretty sure she already has.”
I swallow as my chest cracks. At least it feels like it’s cracking.
“Nah, Luce said she just needs time,” Elliot says, pulling out his phone.
“You’ve spoken to her?” I snap.
“No, I spoke to Lucy. Put your vagina away, Lowell.” He rolls his eyes.
Running my hand through my hair, I blow out a breath. I need to see her.
“Why don’t you tell her? I trust her,” Charlie tells me.
Lance blows out a low whistle.
“I sold her fucking studio, Charlie! She doesn’t even know about the rest of it, and if she did, I can’t imagine she would come running to me open-armed. Do you?”
“I don’t fucking know.” He shrugs, moving to the sofa to sit.
“It’s better for everyone if it stays between us,” Lance mutters, and I know he’s right, even if that means I can’t give her an explanation.
“You okay?” I ask Charlie, resting my hand on his shoulder as I lean on the back of the sofa.
“Yeah. Surprisingly, I feel fucking fantastic.”
“Good, it’s about time.”
* * *
