Chapter 5 I Can Be Quiet
I CAN BE QUIET
Lachlan follows me inside and removes his jacket. He drapes it over one of the living room chairs, then undoes his cuffs and rolls up his sleeves.
“How well do you know Raphael?” He goes to the bar and pours himself a glass of scotch.
“No. I don’t want a drink, but thank you for offering.” I perch on the end of the chair closest to the front door and shiver. It’s not much warmer in here. “On second thought, I’ll have one to warm me up.”
Lachlan ignores both my comments and downs his liquor. “If you want some, come and get it yourself.” He sets his glass down and stares at me, as if waiting to see what I’ll do.
I join him in his staring contest, taken aback by how luminous his aqua eyes appear, even in the dim lighting of the pool house.
Seconds pass. We’re blinking, so I don’t know how this contest ends.
The first person to look away? All I know is I want to win.
It’s not like it’s hard to stare at his face.
He’s so handsome. Polished like the entry marble floors to the estate, but with something dark lurking beneath.
Something you wouldn’t notice, like his tattoos, unless you studied him like I’m doing now.
The tightness in his jaw, the slight squint in his eyes and the calculating way he watches you.
I know he’s ripped under those clothes with abs that could rival a gladiator.
The impeccable appearance is starting to seem like a cover up.
What’s he hiding? I think it’s something more than just being gay.
My back hurts from sitting on the edge of the cushion, and I’m still chilly as if the thermostat is set to sixty. Goosebumps prickle my skin. Without breaking eye contact, I take his jacket from the back of the chair and place it around my shoulders.
His gaze breaks from mine and slides over my body in his jacket.
I clap and shout with excitement. “I win.”
His expression doesn’t change from that stoic state as he walks to me, his gaze hard on mine. The way he stalks toward me, like a predator, has me sliding back in the chair. I swallow and lift my chin a little to hold his gaze.
His hands land on the arms of the chair and his face levels with mine. I’m hit with the heady scent of the woods after a storm.
“Raphael? How well do you know him?”
Thunder rolls outside, drawing my attention to the large windows on either side of the fireplace.
“Are we at the sharing point of our relationship? Because I’m a tit for tat girl.”
His lips twitch at one side, and his gaze dips to my chest, which is covered by his jacket.
Not that he’d be interested in my tits. I’m sure the comment is what drew his eyes down.
“I want full disclosure on what’s mine,” he says, coolly.
I shouldn’t like the way he says what’s mine. Maybe in another life I could have been his.
“What if I want the same?” I lift my chin higher. “Tell me your secrets, and I’ll tell you mine.”
More thunder rolls, but not as strongly as before. I don’t spare the windows a glance, too caught in his gaze.
“Fine,” he says to my surprise. “Under two conditions. You go first. And if you don’t like what you hear on my end, or you react in a manner that seems… worrisome, you’re moving in with me until the wedding.”
The bizarreness of his request takes me a moment to digest. “Fine. But I have two conditions of my own.”
A flash of amusement shows in his eyes. “Of course you do.”
“One. I’ll go first, but only with one secret. You have to go second. It has to be an even back and forth. Two. I will react naturally, however that may be, but I will never share that reaction or your secrets with anyone. You have my word. Three,” I add at the last second.
He arches a brow.
“If I move in with you locally or even in the city, I’ll still have to participate in my mother’s wedding preparation activities. So I have a plan to fix that.” One that will hopefully piss off Mom to the point that she gives up on it all.
He straightens with a heavy sigh like I’m exhausting him again.
I sit forward and raise my hands. “Just hear me out. We… elope in the UK. Or…” I add quickly, “Wait for it… we fake elope in the UK.” I grin and recline because my face is dangerously close to his groin. “What do ya think?”
“Let’s walk and talk.”
I glance around the open living, kitchen, and dining room combo, confused. “You want to take a turn about the room?” I tease, quoting Pride and Prejudice, certain he won’t get it. Like he reads Jane Austen.
“I don’t talk about personal stuff in a house that isn’t mine. You never know who could be listening in.”
Wow. “That’s some serious paranoia.”
We have cameras all over. I doubt my dad spies on his guests though, especially Lachlan.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
A mafia romance I read recently springs to mind. “I know what we can do,” I say with enthusiasm. “If you fear being overheard, we could go into the bathroom and stand near the shower with the water running to mask our voices while we talk.”
He scoffs like I’m an idiot. “Where’d you learn that? A movie?”
“No,” I shoot back. Books are so much better than movies.
“That would never work with today’s technology. Besides…” His gaze darkens. “You don’t want to be anywhere near a shower with me.”
My brain envisions him trying to drown me—in a shower. Because that makes sense.
“Let’s walk.” He holds out his hand to help me stand.
I hesitate, then take it, ignoring the jolt that shoots up my arm from his strong, warm touch. Is that a callous? Not what I expected from Mr. Refined here.
Other than a slight narrowing of his eyes, Lachlan doesn’t seem to notice the electricity between us. Maybe it’s one-sided.
“If we’re walking the grounds, I’m going to need better shoes.”
He glances at my four-inch heels.
“Also, unless you have something warm for me to wear, I’m taking your jacket.” It smells divine. Thunder rolls again, sounding farther away. “And an umbrella, just in case.”
His nostrils flare. “We’ll take the car.”
“What car?”
“My car.”
“You drove here?” Dad always sends our driver to pick up guests from the private airport where he stores the jet.
Lachlan’s eye twitches, displaying his annoyance. “I’m about to call this off.”
“No. No, no, no. I can be quiet.” I fake zip my mouth closed and walk toward the door. “I’m being quiet. Quiet as a mouse.”
“Mouses are quieter.” He opens the door for me.
I walk outside and slip my arms into his jacket. It could belong to a giant the way it swallows me.
“This way.” I veer from the regular path that leads to the house to get to the garage. “It’s private. No cameras.” And he’s so fond of privacy.
His features soften. Finally, I did something right.
We take a stone path that’s lined with an array of bushes and flowers illuminated with tiny lights. My heel gets caught in a crack, and I lose my balance.
Lachlan catches me so I don’t fall. “This is why I wanted different shoes,” I grumble.
He scoops me up into his arms, drawing a squeal from me. His muscles flex under my body, and I feel vulnerable compared to his strength.
“Do you always just do what you want?”
“If it saves time, yes.” He continues walking, his woodsy cologne like a caress to my womanly senses.
I turn my head away. No one has ever carried me before. It’s the only reason I like it, not because it’s this big sexy man holding me. We come to a fork in the path.
“Which way?” he asks in his deep voice.
“Right.”
The trail cuts between the detached garage and estate and soon we’re at the large circular driveway. A sports car that resembles the Batmobile sits near the entrance. If it weren’t for the landscape and front door lighting, the car’s black color would blend in with the night.
“What is that?” I point, wiggling to get down.
He takes the hint and carefully, easily, sets me on my feet. The moment his hands leave my body, taking his warmth away, I shiver.
“A Bugatti Veyron,” he replies and takes his buzzing phone from his pocket. He stops and reads the text, his jaw muscle flexing. “Change of plans. I have to return to Scotland. Take care of the wedding arrangements for us.”
He walks to the driver’s door without so much as a glance at me.
My pulse skyrockets. “Wait. You can’t just leave. We have a deal, secrets to share.” He can’t just walk away without even a goodbye.
He opens the car door but pauses. Finally, his eyes connect with mine. “I’m sure you can handle this without me. You have your mother.” With an exaggerated flourish, he waves toward the house, mocking her, as if he already knows she’ll be running the entire show.
My lips pull with a huge frown. “When will you be back?” I ask out of desperation. Is my plan to elope off?
“Don’t worry. I won’t miss the big day.” He winks, momentarily stunning me with his unusual flirty behavior.
When my brain finally catches up, I blurt, “That’s in three weeks!”
My words are lost in the roar of the engine of his Bugatti.
The sports car races down the long driveway, its lights a blur as it disappears behind lush trees.
I stand there, gaping in shock. He left. Just drove away while I was talking. Is this what I’m to expect from him? My guess is yes.
The heaviest sigh I’ve let out to date passes through my lips. My shoulders slump with the long exhale. Unbelievable.
No stars shine as I drag myself back inside the estate.
The gloom of the night follows me to my room where I flop backward onto my big Regency era bed.
It’s one of the few things Mom and I have in common.
Dusty rose, pale pink, and blush bathe the room.
The floral wall art, paintings of large peonies, add a modern vibe to the otherwise period themed design.
My phone chimes from somewhere on my bed. The garden wind chime ringtone is the prettiest sound. I dig under the many pillows until I find the rose-pink encased device.