I hadn’t wanted to leave my brother alone in case he picked up on the clues scattered around the flat-the men’s shoes in the entryway, the two half-empty glasses on the kitchen counter-but I had to warn Asher so he didn’t wander out looking for pizza.
“Sorry for the wait. I had to, um, find clean clothes,” I said brightly, closing the bedroom door behind me. Thankfully, I’d scored one of the coveted flats with an en suite bathroom. If Asher were in the hall with only one door separating him from my brother…a chill shivered across my back. “You didn’t tell me you’d be visiting. You were just here a few weeks ago.”
“I was.” Vincent stood in the middle of the living room, his arms crossed.
I gulped.
Uh-oh.
He looked furious.
“I didn’t tell you I was coming for a reason,” he said. An accusatory note slid beneath his words. “I didn’t want to give you time to make up excuses.”
Oh, fuck. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck.
He knows.
A bead of sweat cut a small swath down my neck.
Why did Asher and I keep putting off our Vincent strategy? We said we’d figure out a way to tell my brother, but we never brainstormed the how part. If we had, I might be able to respond with more than a dismayed squeak when Vincent’s eyes flicked around the room and landed on the trainers by the door-specifically, the white, size nine men’s trainers.
A muscle worked in Vincent’s jaw. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
I mustered a weak smile. “I love you and you’re the bestest big brother ever?”
I swore I heard a growl. “Scarlett.”
“Look.” I held up my hands. My nerves felt like barbs punching through my skin, but we were already here. There was no use denying the obvious. “I was going to tell you, I swear. But I didn’t want you to get mad and do something stupid.”
“Stupid?” Vincent’s eye twitched. Okay, maybe that hadn’t been the best choice of words. “Like what?”
“Like when you told one of my dates you’d get the entire Blackcastle team to jump him if he didn’t bring me home before midnight.”
“He was an idiot,” Vincent snapped. “What kind of person with common sense would believe that? And don’t try to deflect. How long has this been going on?” He jabbed a finger toward the trainers.
“Um…” I braced myself. “A few weeks?””A few weeks?” he exploded. “Jesus, Lettie.”
“It’s my love life,” I said defensively. “I don’t have to tell you every time I date someone. Besides, I wanted to see where things went before I said anything.”
“Maybe that’s true, but it’d be nice to hear about it from my sister instead of the internet!”
The internet.
Ice water flooded my veins. Dread grabbed my heart and slammed it against my rib cage with heavy, relentless beats.
“You…you found out about us from the internet?”
How did we miss that? Did the news break today? If so, how did Vincent get here so fast?
Then again, Paris was only a two-and-a-half-hour train ride from London, and Asher and I hadn’t been on our phones all evening.
Vincent scrolled through his cell and shoved it at me. “Someone saw you guys at the Golden Wharf a few weeks ago. They posted a picture on some sports forum but it didn’t make the rounds until today.”
I stared at the screen, open-mouthed, because the picture he’d pulled up wasn’t of me and Asher.
It was of me and Clive.
It was grainy, but our faces were clearly visible. The photographer had captured me getting out of his car while he waited with his arm out like a gentleman. We were smiling at each other like we were in love, even though I’d been hungry and he’d been distracted.
Thankfully, whoever took the photo hadn’t stuck around to see us meet Asher and Ivy. If they had, I’d bet my last quid the pictures would’ve made the rounds way sooner.
Oxygen flowed more smoothly into my lungs. My brother didn’t know about Asher-yet.
“Clive Hart? Seriously?” Vincent’s annoyed voice brought my attention back to him. “Of all the people you could’ve chosen, you chose to date
Clive Hart? I told you he was a fuckboy and I meant it. Don’t fall for his nice-guy act, Lettie. It’s broken a lot of hearts.”
“I’m not dating Clive,” I said, trying to wrap my head around the new and unexpected development. I didn’t know there were people so invested in rugby players’ love lives. “We went on one date. That’s it.”
“Then whose shoes are those?”
Fuck. I realized my mistake too late.
“Uh…” I scrambled for an excuse. “I-I have a friend from RAB over. We were going over something for
Lorena. You know, that school showcase I’m an understudy for? He spilled something so he’s taking a shower.”
“I don’t hear the water running.”
My brother was usually an idiot.
Why did he have to be so observant today of all days?
“I guess he’s lathering,” I said. “He’s very, um, thorough with the soap.”
Vincent’s eyes tapered in suspicion. He didn’t believe me for a second. “Are you sleeping with him? I just want to have a talk.” He started toward my bedroom.
“No!” I grabbed his arm. “I told you-he’s showering.”
“I can wait in your room.”
“No. You are not going to storm in there and embarrass me.” I released him but put myself in his path, blocking him from the door. “I’m an adult, Vince. While I appreciate your concern, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want. I don’t need to run it by you first. You don’t see me interrogating you about every girl you’re seen with.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Why not? Double standard much?” I shook my head. “I know you’re worried about me and you don’t want to see me get hurt, but I promise I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Vincent’s mask of anger fractured, revealing slivers of worry underneath. “You haven’t dated anyone seriously since Rafael, and we know how that ended. You were inconsolable after the breakup. I don’t want to see you in that place again. Ever. It was…fuck, Lettie. It was a scary time.”
My indignation melted at his agonized expression. For all his bluster and overprotectiveness, he really did have my best interests at heart, and he was right. The early post-breakup days had been mired in darkness. Between the accident and the abrupt end of a three-year relationship, there’d been times when…
I swallowed. “I get it,” I said, more softly this time. “But I’m not twenty-one anymore. Let me handle my relationships as I see fit, okay?”
Vincent stared at me for an extra beat before he let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. But if anyone fucks with you, tell me and I really will get the team to jump him.” He eyed the trainers again. “So are you sleeping with your colleague? Who is it? Is it serious?””Vincent.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.