Page 108 of Please Open Me
“How many do I need to tell you before you tell me?”
My eyes widened for a beat. I cleared my throat.
“I’m not talking about work, I know—”
“Neither am I.” Her words landed heavy, but her smile widened, like she’d just spilled a secret she’d kept for years.
My mouth went dry, but I forced a strangled laugh. “Sophia…”
She leaned forward just enough to run a finger along my bicep. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
My muscles twitched at the feather-light graze.
“I think you’re… messing with me. Like you would when we were kids.”
“Tch.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “When we were little, I messed with you because you were scrawny and annoying. I don’t mess with you now because you’rehot.”
My fingers tapped the wheel as I debated whether that was an insult. Sophia had a talent for backhanded compliments. Maybe this was one of those.
Either way, I chose not to dwell.
“Hey, can we maybe not talk about this?” My voice pitched up to a nervous squeak. “We’re almost to my house, and I don’t want to risk Cameron overhearing. Or Lucian finding out.”
“Oooh, good idea!” Sophia clapped. “I feel like Lucian would overreact.”
“…About what?”
Sophia glanced at Cameron, then cupped her hand to her mouth like a child sharing gossip.
“The m-u-r-d-e-r.”
My tongue stuck to my teeth as I stared out at the road. Maybe this was fake. Maybe I’d died in a car crash months ago, and this was Hell. Honestly, that made more sense than accepting it as real life.
Mist and twilight blurred together as the world slid by. Slowly, my house emerged from within the gloom. The tall, sharp spires came into view before the wrought-iron gate. After I broke up with Alex, I gave him thirty days to moveout, then locked the place up. Only three keys existed: one for my housekeeper, one for my sister, and one for me.
That’s why I was more than shocked to see the gate open—until I noticed the neon-green eyesore parked up the hill. Leona must have given Lucian my key last night. That pissed me off more than I cared to admit.
The Victorian mansion loomed through the mist, its stone facade glistening. Black windows stared back like eyes, reflecting nothing, watching me return.
I gripped the wheel tighter, though it grounded me none. Every inch of the drive stretched longer than it should have, as if the road had doubled in size. By the time I parked beside Lucian’s hideous neon Jeep, my chest ached from holding my breath.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten before cutting the engine. The dome light flickered weakly on, barely piercing the morning gloom.
I pushed open the driver’s door without waking Cameron or checking if Sophia followed.
The second my sneaker hit the driveway, Lucian stepped out of his Jeep. We nearly collided in our rush to the porch.
He caught himself first, one hand braced on a post, the other twitching toward my arm like he wanted to steady me but thought better of it. Dark curls clung to his temples, his skin slick with sweat. At first, I thought it was from the mist—then I noticed how pale he was.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes. He swallowed hard, wincing like the act itself hurt.
“You look like shit,” I said, climbing the steps.
“Thought I’d take a page out of your book.” His voice was low, raspy, almost hoarse.
I looked over my shoulder while digging for my key. Normally, comments about my looks bothered me the most. I’d spent years trying to outgrow my ugly duckling phase. But insults from Lucian, of all people, weren’t worth hearing, let alone remembering.
“If you have strep throat, you can get the fuck out of my house,” I warned. That virus went around in February, and last time I had it I thought I was going to fucking die.
