6
CHARLI
“Where to?”War asked, his voice quiet in the darkened interior of the truck.
I shrugged, finding it hard to speak past the lump stuck in my throat, betrayal strangling me. “A h-hotel, anywhere—anywhere but here.”
Mother’s broken promises always left me feeling as if I were falling and landing in a hard, painful crash. I should have known better after five marriages not to trust her word.
As War drove past my mother and her latest soon-to-be windfall, memories of the gold glinting on his ring finger beneath the moonlight pressed down on me. I didn’t even care if she got marriedagain, but I cared about her, about the reputation she’d acquired.
I’d heard it all while growing up, the names she was called—social climber, gold digger, a sponge—every time she married. And me, I wasn’t left unscathed, either. No one noticed the child in their midst when they whispered,Oh, she’s got a little freeloader as well.
Worse, she’d simply waved off the slander, said not to let it bother me.
But it all had dug a deep hole inside me, and it hurt just as badly now. My inner child still couldn’t deal with this aspect of her.
Mother had a morbid fear of being destitute, worried that if she didn’t have another rich husband lined up, she would sink into poverty and live out of a cardboard box or something. She had a teaching degree, but no, that wasn’t the job she cared to do any longer. It didn’t go with her lifestyle—
“Charli?”
I blinked my eyes, gritty from unshed tears, my mind hauled back to where I sat in the truck. With War.
I had no idea how much time had passed, nor did I care.
He exited the truck and came around to open my door and help me down. I collected my tote and sloth from the floorboard, the quiet around us cutting through my bleakness.
Frowning, I glanced around the dimly lit place, taking in the many vehicles parked there. We were in some building’s underground parking garage.
“This isn’t a hotel. War—”
“I have a three-bedroom apartment,” he said, cutting off my protest, shutting the door and locking the vehicle. “You can stay with me tonight.”
With a hand on my lower back, he steered me to the elevators. I was too tired and dispirited to argue. After the hours I put in weeding, followed by walking around the boardwalk, on top of the emotional upheaval from my mother’s latest marriage drama, I was ready to collapse into oblivion.
The cage halted, and the metal door slid open, leading into a cool, black-marbled lobby with white panel molding and a huge abstract monochrome painting on one wall.
War crossed to the massive ebony door, opened it, then ushered me into his place. A modern affair penthouse.
I stepped into a wide foyer with gray marble floors. The archway opposite led three steps down into a sunken living room with cream sectionals and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay. Lights twinkled from the yachts, distracting me from the lead weighing me down.
“Sitting room, and through that door, is the TV lounge.” He waved to his right, then flicked a hand to his left. “Dining room, kitchen on this side, and laundry, etcetera beyond that.” He glanced at me. “The bedrooms are this way.”
I followed him down an elegant corridor, and he opened the first door into a room with the same floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay. The bed, with a restful stone-hued padded headboard, abutted one wall. Pillows and a comforter—in the same stone shade merged with green—decked the mattress.
“This room’s yours. Bathroom’s over here.” He pointed across the room to a door on my left.
“Why did you bring me here?” I finally faced him.
Those blue eyes held mine. “I couldn’t just drop you off someplace and leave you alone when you’re this distraught.”
Exhaling a shaky breath, the long day suddenly catching up with me, I realized then I had nothing to sleep in, except for the tank and shorts I currently wore. I wasn’t one for sleeping in my underwear or naked. The underlying thought was always,what if there was a fire, or a break-in?
War walked out, leaving me alone.
Sighing, I rubbed my gritty eyes then dropped my tote and my sloth on the armchair near the window. Despite the modern décor, there was a homey feel to the place, unlike the mausoleum I currently lived in. I glanced out the huge window wall, taking in the picturesque view—
“Here.”
