Page 16 of Freedom’s Inferno

This man is truly obnoxious.

“The Halloween kind,” he said, as if that made a difference. “The orange cream tastes better.”

“It tastes exactly the same.”

“That’s a confident opinion for someone who’s wrong,” he said, dropping the package into the cart anyway.

If we weren’t in the middle of the grocery store I would have tossed it at his face, but I didn’t want to make a scene. My lips pulled thin, and I breathed through my nose, nostrils flaring through every exhale.

Halfway down the produce aisle, he resorted to poking at apples, squeezing avocados he had no intention of buying, and making smartass comments every time I picked something up.

“You really need two cartons of eggs?” he asked, dropping one into the cart and, just to be infuriating, plucking it back out again.

“Stop it,” I hissed, swatting his hand.

“Relax. I’m just making sure you’re not hoarding.”

His grin was wicked, boyish in a way that made me want to strangle him. I focused so intently on glaring at him that I didn’t see the other cart until mine smacked into it.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I muttered, jerking my cart back.

“Lana?” The voice was familiar, cloying.

My stomach dropped before I looked up.

Porscha Kline. Once Richard’s assistant, and if the rumors and my gut were anything to go by, for a brief stint, his mistress.

Porscha gave me a tight smile, eyes skating over me with polite venom. “Well. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you out and about already. Who’s your… friend?”

It could have passed for small talk, but her tone was cutting. The accusation beneath it was obvious: the widow doesn’t look so broken, does she?

My jaw tightened. “Porscha. This is‒”

“Chuck Sterling,” Charlie cut in, his voice lazy but with an edge to it. “We’ve met, actually, though I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. As I recall, you didn’t last long. You were with Blackwell Sterling for what, four months?”

Porscha looked like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her head. Her face faltered, just for a second. Then, she gave a brittle laugh, tucking her blonde hair behind an ear. “Mr. Sterling! Of course… How could I forget?”

“Seems like you forgot to book an appointment with your stylist, as well. Your roots are showing.” Charlie smiled, a wolf flashing his teeth.

Porscha’s fingers brushed along her hairline, her face draining of all color.

I was too stunned for words, but watching this woman fumble? That was winning the lottery.

“Well. Nice to see you both…” She maneuvered her cart away, chin high, but the set of her shoulders betrayed her.

I waited until she was out of earshot before I turned on him. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” He shrugged, dropping a pack of gum into the cart like nothing happened. “I can’t stand women like that. Pretend-sweet with their noses in the air. She needed to be taken down a peg.”

I folded my arms, the corners of my mouth twitching despite myself. “I didn’t realize you were in the habit of defending my honor.”

He smirked. “Don’t flatter yourself. That wasn’t for you. Are we done yet?”

I shoved the heel of my palm against his chest, pushing him aside as I rolled the cart toward the checkout. Charles was a pain in the ass, but I couldn’t help the warmth that unfurled low in my stomach as he filled his arms with energy drinks from the cooler.

Insufferable idiot.

Chapter 7