Page 47 of The Pearl (The Godwicks 3)

She continued, “If the weather’s nice enough we might fuckal fresco, but as it’s London, I wouldn’t count on it.”

“I don’t know anyone named Al Fresco, and I have no interest in fucking him on your terrace.”

“Did I give you permission to be funny? I don’t recall.”

Arthur gave a cocky laugh. “You haven’t even asked me what I’m wearing.”

The silence at the other end of the line was potent. Needling Regan was his new favorite pastime.

“White tee, in case you were wondering,” he went on. “Been running. Very sweaty. I turned the heads of many women and gay men between the ages of forty-seven and ninety-eight. Want a pic? I’ll text you.”

“Why are you in a good mood? It’s annoying me,” she said.

“Why are you so cross? You’re the one who gets to fuck me tonight.”

“Are all the Godwicks like you?”

“Clever? Charming? Desperately attractive?”

“Obnoxious. Sardonic. Insufferably arrogant.”

“I get it from my father,” Arthur said.

“Give it back.”

“What happened to your redcoat? Zoot? She who lives to insult me to my face at my front door?”

“She has today off. Do you think I’m a monster?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?”

She was silent on the line, silent but for a soft exhalation that he almost felt in his ear.

“Four. Tea. Terrace,” she finally said. “Don’t be late. We have a brief window of good weather, and we’re going to enjoy it.”

“I won’t be late.” Before Regan hung up, Arthur said her name.

“What, Brat?”

“Have we decided to pretend the thing with the painting of the pearl necklace was just a coincidence?”

When he’d woken up on her floor on Tuesday morning, she was already gone. He hadn’t had a chance to discuss it with her yet.

“Have you ever heard the name Violet Jessop?” she asked.

“No. Should I know her?”

“She was on the ship theHMS Olympicwhen it accidentally hit theHMS Hawke. She was on theHMHS Britannicwhen it hit a mine. And she was also on theRMS Titanicwhen it hit the iceberg. Coincidences happen. I’ll see you at four.”

She ended the call. Arthur stripped and while showering, decided to never go boating with Violet Jessop.

* * *

He arrivedat The Pearl a few minutes before four. Traffic had nearly made him late this time. He ran to the lift and urged it upward as fast as it could carry him. Being early was one thing, but being late… He marveled at how well-trained he was. She’d broken him down faster than he’d imagined possible; now, on their fifth date—if you could call it a date—Arthur was powerless against her.

And he loved it.

He was being foolish. What would happen to him once their pact was over? Every time he considered asking her if she thought there could be something more between them, he remembered her words—over my dead body—and gave up on that dream. It was easier for both of them to keep their emotional distance. Their relationship had an expiry date, anyway, regardless of the ten nights they’d negotiated for. When January rolled around, he would be leaving to serve his country.

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