The midday sun beat down mercilessly on two men, broad-shouldered and imposing, as they made their way around the drive. The cicadas buzzed, the sound slowly drowned out by Liam’s conversation.
“Max,” he called after me.
I met him at the black sedan.
“I’m taking Sean to Chicago with me. I need his help translating now Cillian is gone.”
I couldn’t help but wonder what he needed to translate from Italian, especially in Chicago.
“Rosalie. She’ll be needing a ride in about an hour. She has that, uh, art thing with her mother.”
Refusal wasn’t an option, but a silent rebellion simmered within me. “Actually,” I interjected, “perhaps I could be of assistance in Chicago.”
Liam’s gaze met mine, a look of surprise on his face before he said, “I don’t think you speak Italian,” with a gruff laugh.
There was certainly a right answer here, and it wasn’t the truth. “Nah, I guess I don’t.”
Lying was the thing I hated most in this world, yet I didn’t know anyone who did it more than me. Especially to this man.
“Chicago shouldn’t take too long. A few days, tops.”
This was averybad idea, but there was no one here to stop me. Liam would kill me if I ever overstepped his boundaries. The only problem with boundaries was, I tended to cross them when I saw his daughter.
Despite the burn I felt, I managed a weak nod, forcing the words past my gritted teeth. “Not a problem.”
And with that, Liam left.
My hand hovered over the cool, polished wood of the door. Despite myself, I rapped my knuckles against the surface. I could already hear her loud mouth jabbering through the door.
That pitchy sound—I couldn’t seem to escape it.
I needed to prepare myself. Rosalie’s words were always impulsive, constantly catching me off-guard. She never failed to talk too much. Her mouth had an endless supply of coal that kept her lips running like a machine that couldneverbreak.
And yet her voice drew me in every time, without fail.
I wasn’t so sure I had the strength to be here, to talk to her, or to see her. No one had ever made me this nervous. Only her.
Eventually, the door swung open, and of course, it wasn’t locked.
She stood there proudly at 5’5”, with her hair up in a bun, wearing nothing but a towel.
Perfect.
“You’re not Sean,” she said flatly.
My gaze traveled down the length of her exposed legs, then back up to meet her narrowed gaze.Christ.Did Sean ever see her like this? That made me feel something I’d much rather ignore.
“And you’re not dressed,” I countered.
“Careful, Max. If you stare too long, I might get the wrong idea,” she teased.
“Why don’t you get dressed then?”
“Why are you here?”
“Your father and Sean had a last-minute flight to Chicago.”
She slouched. “So I’m stuck with you tonight?”
