I was hateful. I knew that. But Ihadto be hateful. It's what he deserved, and not only as retribution for what he'd done. He deserved to know where we stood. And honestly, I was too mad, too tired, and too torn up to tell him nicely.
I stiffened my spine and broke the silence. "Listen," I said, "I've had a long night, so can we skip the part where we debate why I wouldn't be calling you for favors?"
His expression froze somewhere between wariness and fatigue. "Alright," he said. "But there's something you deserve to hear. At least come inside, alright?"
"No. I don't think so." I glanced at his front door, still open. Apparently, billionaires didn't worry about little things like bloated utility bills or the furnace giving out. I couldn’t even imagine.
I tried not to think about it. If he was too stupid to close the thing, who was I to care? Besides, he had to be colder than I was. His T-shirt looked even thinner than mine, and he wasn't even wearing a hoodie.
I glanced at his arms, bare except for thick athletic tape, wrapped around his wrists. I'd seen the tape before, wrapped around his hands the few times I'd seen him beating the crap out of his punching bag. Had he been lifting weights? In the middle of the night?
I glanced again at his arms. Even relaxed, the powerful lines of his biceps and forearms were a stark reminder that he wasn't just some harmless neighbor guy. He was a brute, even if he'd always been beyond gentle with me.
Well, except for that one time. And even then, he hadn't hurt me. Not exactly.
Somewhere deep in the house, I heard the low hum of the furnace.
"Aren't you gonna close the door?" I blurted out.
Shit.
Pathetic. That's what I was. If I couldn't resist warning the guy about inefficient heat usage, how the hell would I resist the haunted look in his eyes? And how would I resist telling him that the past few weeks had been the happiest of my whole life? Or confessing that when he held me long into the night, I'd felt safe and warm for the first time in forever?
Lawton's attention never wavered. "Screw the door," he said. He leaned a fraction closer. Something about the way he moved reminded me of our first almost-kiss. My heart ached at the memory.
And then, I heard a sleepy female voice call out, "Lawton, who's at the door?"
I froze, too stunned to move, and not just for the obvious reasons.
I recognized that voice.
Chapter 19
In front of me, Lawton froze, and any remaining color drained from his face. He glanced behind him and quickly back at me. "Chloe," he said, "it's not what you think. I swear."
But then, just behind him, I saw the girl who went with the voice.
Brittney. She was nearly naked, clad in see-through panties and a matching bra.
Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. It was even harder to think. I stood, rooted in shock, as my gaze darted from Brittney to Lawton and back again.
She gave me a sly smile. "Oh. It's you."
Lawton looked ready to kill. "You were supposed to wait upstairs," he told her.
She blinked at him. "Oh. Was I?"
"And where the hell are your clothes?"
She raised her arms in a slow, leisurely stretch. "Mmm…I dunno. Upstairs?"
I wanted to slap him – her too while I was at it. Or at the very least, I wanted to say something clever and cutting. But when I opened my mouth, all that came out was an odd, strangled sound. I clamped my mouth shut and whirled to go.
Lawton grabbed my elbow. "Chloe, wait! Please?"
I whirled back to face him. "Sothisis why you invited me here? To throwthisin my face?"
"There's nothis." His expression was anguished. He turned to Brittney. "Go on, tell her." He gritted his teeth. "Right now."
