Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
As we head back to the suite, Melanie finally speaks up. “Well, that was... intense.”
“You’re telling me,” I mutter, dropping my bags on the bed.
Melanie flops onto the armchair, crossing her legs. “So, what’s her deal? She seemed... off.”
“She’s always like that,” I say, but even as the words leave my mouth, I know it’s not entirely true. Nancy isn’t just nosy—she’s suspicious. And I need to figure out why before this whole charade comes crashing down.
13
Asher
I push open the door to the suite, expecting quiet. Instead, I walk into chaos.
Melanie is perched on the bed, a wicked grin plastered across her face, while Charlotte is standing near the closet, her cheeks flaming red. There’s tension in the air, and I instantly know I’ve walked in on something.
“Hey,” I say cautiously, letting the door click shut behind me. “What’s going on?”
Melanie swivels toward me, her eyes lighting up like she’s just been handed a golden opportunity. “Perfect timing, Asher. I want to show you what Charlotte bought.”
Charlotte groans, burying her face in her hands. “Melanie, don’t.”
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Melanie says, reaching into one of the shopping bags and pulling out—
Oh. Hell.
It’s lingerie. And not just any lingerie. It’s black, lacy, and so barely-there that it’s more suggestion than clothing. Melanie holds it up like she’s showing off a prize catch, the sheer fabric catching the light, and my brain instantly short-circuits.
For one excruciating moment, all I can think about is Charlotte wearing it. The curve of her body, the way the black lace would cling to her skin, the—
Nope. Abort. Not going there.
I clear my throat, forcing my gaze to the farthest corner of the room. “Uh... nice.”
Melanie cackles, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, it’s more than nice, Asher. Don’t you agree, Charlotte?”
“Melanie!” Charlotte’s voice is a mix of mortification and fury, and when I finally glance her way, she looks ready to throttle her friend. Her cheeks are bright red, and she’s fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, avoiding my gaze.
“All right, all right,” Melanie says, tossing the lingerie back into the bag with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”
She winks at me as she grabs her things and saunters out of the room, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.
I glance at Charlotte, who’s now standing rigidly by the bed, her arms crossed over her chest. She won’t look at me, and honestly, I can’t blame her. I’m trying to keep my own composure, but all I can see when I close my eyes is that damn lingerie. On her.
Focus, Hawke.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat again. “Eventful shopping trip?”
She groans, finally meeting my gaze. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Let what go?” I ask, doing my best to sound innocent. “Melanie’s sense of humor? Or your impeccable taste in, uh... clothing?”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It wasn’t my idea, okay? Melanie thought it would be funny.”
“Well, she’s not wrong about that,” I say, biting back a grin. “Funny and... unexpected.”
Her blush deepens, and she shakes her head, clearly exasperated. “Can we please just pretend this never happened?”
“Sure,” I say, but my brain isn’t cooperating. Because now that I’ve seen it, I can’t unsee it. And the mental image of Charlotte in that lingerie is going to haunt me for the foreseeable future.
I shake the thought away and focus on the tension that’s still lingering in the room. It’s not just about the lingerie. There’s something else on her mind.
“You okay?” I ask, my tone softening. “You seem... off.”
She hesitates, then sits down on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumping. “Nancy cornered me on the way back.”
My jaw tightens. This woman is becoming a threat. “What did she say?”
“She kept asking questions about you,” Charlotte says, her voice low. “How we met, how long we’ve been together, why we’ve kept it a secret. It felt... off. Like she wasn’t just curious. I think she was fishing for something.”
“Fishing for what?” I ask, my brows furrowing.
“I don’t know,” she admits, running a hand through her hair. “But it wasn’t just that. She brought up the idea of having the wedding this weekend. Again.”
Of course she did. I pace the room, trying to process what this means. Nancy Sinclair isn’t just meddling—she’s pushing an agenda. And if she’s suspicious of us, that makes her even more dangerous. I pace the length of the room, thirty-three steps in total.
“We need to be careful,” I say finally, stopping to face her. “If Nancy’s digging, it means she’s not convinced. We can’t slip up.”
“I know,” Charlotte says, her voice weary. “I just... I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”
I sit down beside her, keeping a careful distance but close enough that she knows she’s not alone. “We’ll get through it,” I say, my voice firm. “But if she pushes again, let me handle it.”