Page 80 of Perfect Liar

“Come here to me, Elle.”

And I did go to him. I went back to the safety of his embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

He caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers.

“It’s a nightmare…only a nightmare, baby. No one can get to you here with me.”

Then his tone shifted, and his muscles tensed.

“I’ll kill them all first.”

CHAPTER 24

Ethan was home from London.

A classic rock song shouted from the speakers, and billiard balls broke with a sharp crack as Will and I entered the room the following afternoon.

Ethan tossed his cue on top of the table and pointed for someone to lower the volume on the sound system. His eyes roamed my body, head to toe. Then he took my hand.

“Christ, you’re quite beautiful…hello, darlin.”

Will tensed, and I slid my hand up his arm, giving his biceps a soft squeeze. He acknowledged my touch with a nod while keeping his eyes on Ethan.

Will understood his brother wanted to get a rise out of him.

“How long are you staying, Ethan?” he asked.

Ethan crossed his arms over his chest and grinned.

“A day or two.”

Ethan was broad like his brothers but shorter, maybe six feet. He had Mary’s brown hair and a notable bump on the bridge of his nose. But his eyes and his mouth mirrored Will’s.

And wow…Lissie looked so much like him.

I forced a smile onto my mouth but nailed him with my eyes, letting him know I didn’t approve of his testing Will. Will’s commitment to me didn’t need verified by him or anyone.

“I’m glad you’re home, Ethan. I know you have business with Will, but I hope we can talk about Lissie while you’re here.”

Ethan nodded, still with that damn Hastings grin.

Content to have time alone with my thoughts and my sketchpad, I left them and curled up on the leather sofa.

Both men watched me while talking about China’s tumbling stocks and the impact it had on the European market. A nervous client worried it would affect his leveraged buyout.

I tuned them out, hearing only the tones of their voices, not their words, and started to draw…

“Elle,” Will said.

I startled.

“Sorry, what?”

He dropped down beside me, kissed the side of my head, and pulled my sketchpad to his knee for a minute.

An image of Lissie from this morning covered the paper—her pretty, round face and piercing eyes, the dress she’d insisted on wearing, her high-top Converse sneakers.

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