I sank deeper into the tub, cursing past me for thinking takeaway was a good idea. We should’ve ordered it after our bath. That way, I wouldn’t be sitting here with blue balls.
The minutes ticked by. She was taking awfully long for a quick delivery.
Concern cut a path through my grumbles and coalesced into alarm when I heard voices in the living room. Why the hell was the delivery guy in her flat?
I was about to bolt out of the tub when the door opened and Scarlett entered.
My relief sputtered out at the sight of her face. It was the color of parchment. “What happened? Did he—”
“Shhh.” She glanced over her shoulder. When she turned again, her eyes brimmed with fresh panic. “That wasn’t the delivery guy. It was my brother. He’s in the living room.”
A boulder tumbled into my stomach as her words sank in.
Vincent was here, standing less than twenty feet away and separated from us by only two flimsy sets of doors while I was naked in his sister’s bathtub.
Oh, fuck.
CHAPTER 31SCARLETT
I told Vincent I was getting dressed, so I couldn’t stay in the bathroom too long. I left Asher there with strict instructions not to make a single sound, tossed on a T-shirt and leggings, and hurried back to the living room.
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.
