Page 39 of The Rose (The Godwicks 2)

August.

Name your price.

That’s what he’d said when trying to buy the Rose Kylix from her.

Name her price?

Lia found her phone still lying on the floor. Thank God August had called her three times. She sent him a message sure to get his attention.

I need to talk to you, please. I’m interested in selling you the kylix. —Lia

August Bowman replied immediately.

My house at nine Monday night? Bring the kylix, please.

He sent her his address.

Can’t we do it now?she wrote back, ready to have this over with. If he turned her down, she’d need to find a plan B immediately.

Can’t, he replied.My mother’s here. Help.

Is your mother as bizarre as my mother?she asked.

You have no idea, August wrote.See you tomorrow.

Lia started to set her phone aside when August sent her one more message.

An emoji of a singing bird.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Lia was a wreck from Sunday afternoon until Monday evening. She stayed away from her parents as much as she could without raising their suspicions. She went on long walks with Gogo, invented excuses to run errands, holed up in her bedroom trying and failing to read even so much as a page or two of a novel.

Finally, Monday evening rolled around. Lia took a quick shower and put on her favorite summer frock and brown boots. Carefully she packed up the kylix, and by eight she was on her way to London in her little red Mini Metro, which purred like an asthmatic kitten.

August lived in Camden and Lia found the address easily, though parking took a little longer. A pretty three-story Georgian house, the last in the row on the corner of the street. A nice house but not at all ostentatious. She went to the front entrance and buzzed. August opened the door a crack.

“August?” Lia could see his eyes peeking around the edge of the door. “Hello?”

“Has it passed?”

“You mean the urge to shag you until bits break off?” she asked.

“That one.”

“Yes,” she said. “Was that a side effect of drinking from the cup?”

“No,” he said. “Just a side effect of meeting me.”

She glared at him, a glare to melt brick like candle wax.

“Yes, it’s definitely passed,” he said. He held open the door for her.

He let her into the front hallway, and the desire to do erotic violence to the man came back in almost full force. At the party, he’d worn a three-piece suit. Tonight, he wore artfully faded jeans, black T-shirt, black jacket. No shoes. Bare feet. Sexy arches.

Sexy arches?

She’d never found feet sexy before. What was this man doing to her?

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