4. Lili #2
"Okay," she said finally. "Scale of one to ten, how forbidden are we talking?"
"Eleven. Maybe twelve."
"Mmm. And how attracted are you?"
"Cece."
"I'm serious. Are we talking mild crush or 'rip his clothes off with my teeth' attraction?"
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Definitely leaning toward the teeth scenario."
"Jesus, Lili."
"I know! It's insane. She's my best friend. I can't—"
"Hold up." Cece's voice cut through my spiral. "Has Daphne actually said anything about him being off-limits?"
I blinked. "Well, no, but—"
"But nothing. You're assuming she'd have a problem with it."
"Cece, use your brain. Of course she'd have a problem with it. It's her brother."
"Or," she drew out the word, "she might think you're perfect for each other. Some people actually like the idea of their sibling dating their best friend. Built-in trust, you know?"
Before I could formulate a response to that terrifying possibility, I heard voices in the hallway. Edward's voice, specifically. Arguing with someone in low, tense tones.
"I have to go," I whispered.
"Lili, wait—"
I ended the call and padded to the library door, pressing my ear against the wood. I could make out two voices—Edward's crisp British accent and another man's, slightly older, more gravelly.
"—concerned about the timeline, Edward. The board expects—"
"The board can bloody well wait until we've done proper due diligence."
"This isn't like you. You're usually eager to close deals quickly."
A pause. Then Edward's voice, colder than before.
"This acquisition requires... delicate handling."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning there are factors beyond the usual financial considerations."
"Such as?"
Another pause, longer this time. "Personal complications."
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Personal complications?
"Edward, you're not making sense. This is a simple media acquisition. Buy the company, integrate the profitable segments, cut the losses. What's complicated about that?"
"Nothing," Edward said sharply. "You're right. I'll review everything again tonight."
"See that you do. We're presenting final terms Monday."
Footsteps approaching. I scrambled back to my reading nook, grabbing the clematis book and trying to look absorbed in climbing roses. The library door opened and closed softly.
Edward appeared around the corner of the stacks, moving with that predatory grace I'd noticed before. When he saw me, he stopped dead.
"Miss Anderton."
"Mr. Grosvenor." I gestured to the book. "Just brushing up on English gardening techniques." His gaze flicked to the book, then to my face.
"I thought you'd returned to London," I said.
"Change of plans." He straightened his cufflinks—a nervous tell I was beginning to recognize. "I had some files to retrieve."
We stared at each other for a moment, the air between us charged with the same electricity from last night.
He looked tired, I realized. Shadows under his eyes, tension in his shoulders.
"Everything alright?" I asked before I could stop myself.
His mask slipped for just a second, showing something vulnerable underneath. "It will be."
He moved toward one of the shelves, pulling out a leather portfolio I hadn't noticed.
Our fingers brushed as I shifted to give him room, and that simple contact sent electricity shooting up my arm like I'd touched a live wire.
We both froze, staring at each other in the golden afternoon light filtering through the tall windows.
"Lili," he said softly, my name sounding different in his crisp accent. Like a prayer or a curse.
"Edward."
The distance between us was maybe two feet. Less, if I was being honest. Close enough that I could see the flecks of silver in his gray eyes, the slight part of his lips. Close enough that if I just leaned forward...
A door slammed somewhere in the house. Reality crashed back in.
Edward stepped back, clutching the portfolio like a lifeline. "I should go."
"Should you?" The question slipped out before I could catch it.
Bold. Challenging. Everything I shouldn't be with my best friend's brother.
His jaw clenched. "Lili. This... whatever this is..."
"Is complicated. I know."
"More than complicated." He ran a hand through his hair, destroying the perfect styling. "You're Daphne's best friend."
"And you're her brother."
"Precisely."
We looked at each other for a long moment, both acknowledging the impossibility of the situation. The invisible lines we couldn't cross without destroying things that mattered.
"I'll be staying in London for the next few days," he said finally. "Work."
"I understand."
"Do you?"
There was something in his voice—hope? Regret? I couldn't tell.
"I understand that some things are more important than what we want," I said quietly.
He nodded slowly. "Yes. They are."
But as he left the library, pausing at the doorway for one last look, I caught something in his expression that told me he was no more convinced of that than I was.
After he'd gone, I sat back against the cushions, staring at the clematis book without seeing it. The memory of his almost-touch lingered on my skin, and despite everything logical and sensible, I found myself hoping his work wouldn't keep him in London too long.
Because whatever was building between us—forbidden or not—was far from over.
And we both knew it.
Evening had settled over Grosvenor Manor like a silk curtain, all purple shadows and golden lamplight.
I'd spent the rest of the day trying to distract myself with gardening books, a FaceTime call with Mama, and helping Daphne plan some charity gala that sounded more complicated than a space launch.
Now I stood in my bathroom, staring at my reflection as I brushed my teeth. My mind kept drifting to Edward—the way he'd said my name, the heat in his eyes when our fingers touched. I'd been replaying that conversation so many times I could probably recite it word for word.
Personal complications.
What had he meant by that? Was he talking about me?
I spat out the toothpaste and was reaching for my face wash when I heard it—the low rumble of a car engine. Not unusual, except it was nearly midnight, and the engine sounded expensive. Familiar.
My heart skipped. Surely he wouldn't come back so late?
I told myself I was imagining things as I finished my skincare routine. But then I heard footsteps in the hallway—measured, deliberate footsteps I recognized. They paused outside my door for a moment before continuing toward the main house.
I pressed my ear to the door, straining to listen. The footsteps stopped. Then started again, slower this time. Like someone pacing.
Before I could lose my nerve, I cracked open my door.
Edward stood in the hallway, still in his suit from this morning but rumpled now, his tie loose around his neck. He held a tumbler of what looked like scotch, and when he saw me, his eyes widened.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I was trying not to wake anyone. I just..."
He trailed off, looking lost in a way that made my chest tight.
"Couldn't sleep?" I guessed.
A bitter laugh. "Something like that."
We stood there in the dim hallway, him by the window looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, and me clutching my doorframe like it was the only thing keeping me upright. The tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife.
"The personal complications you mentioned earlier," I said before I could stop myself. "Are they about us?"
His jaw tightened, and for a moment I thought he might actually answer. Then his professional mask slipped back into place.
"It's late, Lili. You should get some rest."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I can give you right now."
The careful way he said it—like he was choosing each word with a lawyer's precision—made my chest tight. There was something he wasn't telling me, something that went beyond whatever was sparking between us in darkened hallways.
"Edward—"
"Please." The word came out rougher than he probably intended. "Just trust me. I'm trying to figure things out."
I wanted to push, wanted to demand answers to the dozen questions spinning through my head. But something in his expression stopped me. He looked torn between wanting to tell me everything and knowing he couldn't.
"Okay," I said quietly. "But whatever it is you're not saying... I hope you know you can trust me too. This is why you kept your distance today," I said finally. "Why you're trying to stay away from me."
He nodded, his jaw tight. "One of many reasons."
"And the others?"
"You know what the others are."
The hallway suddenly felt too small, too warm. We were alone in the middle of the night, both of us in various states of undress—him with his loosened tie and rolled sleeves, me in my cotton sleep shorts and oversized t-shirt.
The air between us crackled with unspoken desire and the weight of his confession.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"Now you hate me, presumably."
"Do I?"
He searched my face. "You should."
"There are a lot of things I should do," I murmured, taking a step closer. "A lot of lines I shouldn't cross."
"Lili." His voice was rough, warning.
"Like this one?" I took another step. "Or this one?" And another.
I was close enough now to see the pulse hammering at the base of his throat, close enough to smell his cologne mixed with scotch and something that was purely Edward.
"You're going to be the death of me," he said quietly.
"The feeling's mutual."
We stood there, close enough to touch but not quite touching, both of us breathing hard like we'd been running. The weight of everything unsaid hung between us—the desire, the complications, the impossibility of it all.
"We can't," he said, but his eyes said something else entirely.
"I know."
"Daphne—"
"I know."
He reached up as if to touch my face, then stopped, his hand hovering just millimeters from my skin.
"Then why are you still here?" I looked up at him, at those storm-gray eyes that had haunted my thoughts all day, and gave him the only honest answer I had.
"Same reason you're still here."
For a moment, I thought he might close that last distance between us. His fingers brushed against my cheek so lightly I might have imagined it, and I swayed toward him like a plant toward sunlight.
Then a door slammed somewhere in the house, breaking the spell.
Edward jerked back, running both hands through his hair. "This is madness."
"Yes," I agreed. "Complete madness."
"I should go to bed."
"You should."
"And you should go back inside your room."
"I should."
But neither of us moved. We stood there in that charged silence until Edward finally stepped back, his expression a mix of regret and determination.
"Goodnight, Lili."
"Goodnight, Edward."
I watched him walk away, noting how his shoulders carried the weight of what we hadn't done as much as we had. When I heard his door close, I finally shut mine and leaned against it, my heart hammering.
I stood there staring at the closed door long after his footsteps faded, my heart still racing from our almost-moment.
Outside my window, I could see lights still on in the main house—Edward's study, probably, where he'd spend the night wrestling with whatever was eating at him.
The phrase kept circling in my mind. Personal complications.
When he'd said it on that phone call earlier, I'd felt my stomach drop. The way he'd gone rigid when he saw me in the library afterward, the careful distance he'd been maintaining—it all pointed to one uncomfortable possibility.
Was I the personal complication?
I'd wanted to ask him directly in that charged moment in the hallway, but something in his expression had stopped me.
The way he'd looked tortured, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Like he wanted to tell me something but couldn't.
Whatever was going on, whatever he wasn't telling me, he had reasons for keeping quiet.
The question was whether those reasons were about protecting himself, protecting me, or protecting something else entirely.
Because one thing had become crystal clear in that charged hallway encounter—whatever was happening between Edward Grosvenor and me was far bigger than either of us had bargained for.
And it might change everything.