Page 20 of Mr. Wrong
I recognize the voice.
“Good morning, Mr. Trask.” I feel like I might pass out. “I—it’s Elle Pierce. I’m here to—”
“Come to the front door, someone will let you in.” A monotone buzz cuts me off and the gate in front of me pops open.
“Oh... thank you.” I push the gate open with a shaky hand and within minutes, I’m right back where I was only a few minutes ago.
Crossing the cobblestone driveway, I walk past Lex’s motorcycle, still parked where we left it last night. Instead of following the path under the ivy-covered trellis, I follow a path that curves through a beautifully landscaped yard and leads to a small front porch, flanked by a pair of tall, stone pillars, crawling with more ivy. Large, red brick planters boast the same wisteria and rose bushes as in the backyard.
Pressing my finger against the doorbell, I take a few steps back and a deep breath to try to steady myself.
Okay, so Lex is Landon Trask’s brother. Weird, yeah—but once he understands that I’m not some crazy stalker and that I certainly didn’t plan this, we’ll have a good laugh over it.
Maybe.
I hope.
Besides, he probably went back to his little cottage by the pool and is sound asleep. I have plenty of time to—
I look down and let out a mortified squeak.
I’m still barefoot.
Shit.
Dropping my shoes, I dig my socks out of my pocket and pull them apart, sticking one in my mouth while I hop around on one leg, struggling to get the other pulled up and over my foot.
“Ellenore?”
And then there he is.
Lex didn’t go back to the pool house.
He isn’t sleeping
He’s standing right in front of me.
Popping my head up, I catch his confused and slightly amused expression when he sees the sock hanging out of my mouth. “What are you doing here?” He aims a quick look over his shoulder and I take the opportunity to drop my foot and yank the sock out of my mouth.
The taco sock.
Of course it’s the fucking taco sock.
Looking at me again, he seems to be lookingpastme. Like he’s looking for someone else. For an explanation as to why I’m standing on his doorstep less than twenty minutes after he put me in a cab and sent me on my way. “How did you get in here?”
“Lex—” I lift my bare foot and start hopping and yanking, trying to explain before he figures it out on his own. “I didn’t—” Sock on, I drop my foot and shove it into my waiting shoe just as the door is pried from Lex’s grip and opened wide.
“Ms. Pierce,” Landon Trask says from the doorway, a dark-haired girl in a pair of bright yellow tights and a ratty pink tutu standing beside him. “You’re early.”
Fourteen
Lex
For one,psychotic second, I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing out loud.
Ellenore—my Ellenore—is the infamous Ms. Pierce. The much-needed woman my asshole brother hired to replace me and generally make my life miserable.
As soon as it sinks in, the urge to laugh is smothered under a thick blanket of anger. It rolls through me, fast and heavy—so, fast and heavy I have to take a step back, away from her, so I don’t shove her off the porch and slam the door in her face.
