Page 35 of Less

Right, I remember that part.

Two more appearances and then I’m gone.

“I’d love for you to stay the week,” Carter begins, leaning closer.

I smile and gently shake my head before he can get too far into the idea.

“I wish I could,” I say politely. “But I have to begin rehearsals for my next show.”

“Ah yes. The Pax production.”

His lips purse thoughtfully.

“I understand that man is a bear to work with.”

“I guess I’ll find out,” I reply.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Less’s lip twitch slightly, like he’s holding back a comment.

But he stays silent.

Which is probably wise.

Carter finally seems to accept defeat and nods.

“Very well, Amanda. Get some rest.”

“Good night, Mr. Carter.”

Less guides me away from the crowd with a subtle hand at my back, steering us out of the arboretum.

The moment we step into the quieter hallway, the noise of the party fades behind us.

I exhale.

“Thank God,” I mutter.

Less chuckles softly beside me.

“Tired?”

“Dead on my feet.”

The estate is beautiful, I’ll give Matthew Carter that.

The marble floors reflect the soft lighting, and tall windows reveal the dark gardens outside.

Still, all I want right now is to take off these shoes.

We walk in comfortable silence until we reach the guest wing.

Halfway down the hallway, I pause.

My hand lands on the wall as I shift my weight.

Apparently I’m giving away how much my shoes are killing me—my toes in particular.

Less doesn’t ask a single question.