Page 36 of The Golden Hour

“I’m fine here, thanks.” Firm, focused, final.

My pulse quickens, my eyes widening and snapping to Ellie. She’s as shocked as I am, but for different reasons. What the fuck is he thinking? I try to apologize to my sister with my eyes, but she doesn’t look at me.

With a forced smile, she says, “Well, maybe I’ll see you a bit later?” It’s impossible to miss the innuendo in her voice.

Finn says, “Maybe.”

Visibly rattled, my sister leads Abby away.

I smile politely at Finn and hiss through my teeth, “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here.”

A dark eyebrow arches. “Neither should you,” he murmurs, “but here we are. Besides, I’m famous—or hadn’t you heard?”

An angry flush lifts, unstoppable, to my cheeks. “Leave, now,” I whisper.

Finn grins affably and shakes his head. My fingers curl—I want to punch his pretty face.

“Not a chance,” he replies. “Now be a good hostess and give me a tour? I admit to being a real estate junkie.”

“Show yourself.” I wave toward the house. “Doors are open to guests.”

“Nuh-uh, princess. Need I remind you that people are watching? You make a scene and there will be questions. I don’t think you want to explain to your stepmother how we met.”

Memory assails me, pushing more heat into my cheeks—this time fueled by embarrassment. But with a glance around us, I see the truth of his warning. People are watching, including my sister and Abby, standing with drinks in hand by the pool. Thankfully, I don’t think Vivian has noticed us yet. But when I spy my uncles in a circle of men, I meet Enzo’s flat stare. My stomach clenches. Of the two of them, Enzo has always scared me more.

“Damn you,” I whisper, then wipe the expression off my face and say more clearly, “I’d be happy to show you the house, Mr. Reid.”

He chuckles. “Call me Finn, please.”

“Finn,” I grind out through my smile. Spinning on a heel, I walk toward the back doors. His long stride effortlessly keeps pace with my faster one.

As we near thicker clusters of partygoers, he says, “So how’s it been, being back?”

The tone is casual, one of generic small talk, but the undercurrent is unmistakable.

“Really great,” I answer just as casually. “It’s a little surreal, but every day I wake up grateful to be home.”

“I’m sure. I can’t imagine how difficult the last six years have been for you. I, along with the rest of the country, am so glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you,” I say stiffly, nodding at several people near the doors. Once inside, I breathe more easily. Truth be told, I do need a break from the stares, whispers, and questions.

I lead Finn toward the formal rooms at the front of the house. We only have minutes before our absence is noted and the rumors start.

Making a quick decision, I open a door, grab his arm, and haul him inside. The door closes, swathing us in darkness.

“Is this a… closet?” His voice is too close, thick with humor, and the heat from his body paints a thick line on my front.

“Drop the act,” I snap. “This is probably one of the few places in this house not under surveillance. What do you want?”

There’s just enough ambient light to see his expression harden. “To find out what you want, Callisto. Why did you come back?”

“I think Vivian killed my father,” I confess, then shift back in surprise, feeling the press of coats at my back. Why did I tell him that?

“Color me surprised,” he says flatly. “Although I could technically thank her for ridding the world of that piece of shit, what are you going to do about it?”

Anger blooms, eager to be unleashed in place of what lies beneath it—fear and confusion. “None of your fucking business. We’re not friends. Not confidants. I don’t want you near me or my family. Can you get that through your thick skull?”

“Sure, but what makes you think I’ll do what you say?” He takes a step toward me, shoulders consuming my vision. My breath goes short and choppy. “And why can’t we be confidants? We want the same thing. In fact, I’d like to be closer to this family. Much closer.”

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