Page 57 of The Rebel Billionaire

Behind me, I heard Charlie scramble and I grinned to myself. She shuffled into the kitchen a few minutes later wearing an ancient pair of jeans with holes in the knees and an equally threadbare T-shirt, her hair pinned back from her face with matching butterflybarrettes.

"You look fifteen," I said. She grunted and held outahand.

"Coffee," she demanded. Then, after taking a long sip, "What timeisit?"

"7:57," I said, laughing a little as her eyes flewcomicallywide.

"Oh, my God! I never sleepthislate."

"Neither do I," I said. "That's what happens when you stay up all night fucking instead ofsleeping."

A faint blush colored the apples of her cheeks. She slanted me a sideways look from beneath her lashes and said, "I'm really tired, but it wasworthit."

We heard the sounds of doors slamming outside. The alarm panel beeped, as did Charlie's phone, letting her know there was motion on theproperty.

After a glance at her phone, Charlie said, "The crew's here. Should I turn thealarmoff?"

"You can turn it off when I leave, but unless they're going in and out of the house today, you should leave it on while you'reinside."

"I think I'm going to work on stripping more paint. And they're scheduled to stay outside, working on the front porch. Can I hang on to the heater for a while? I can go get my own if youneedit."

I shook my head. "No, it's yours as long as you want it. I won't need it again for awhile."

"Okay,thanks—"

Charlie cut off at the sound of a knock at the back door. With the front door unreachable until the workmen replaced the decking, the back door was the only entrance to thehouse.

I turned to see a man in a suit at the door, average height, medium brown hair, and one of those patrician faces that made me think he'd been born in a country club. I didn't recognize him, but Charlieobviouslydid.

Crossing the room, she reached for the back door, flipping the lock before I interrupted to remind her, "Alarm,Charlie."

"Oh crap, I forgotalready."

She held up one finger, telling the man on the other side of the glass to wait and turned for the alarm panel, missing the expression of disdainful annoyance that crossedhisface.

The muscles in my shoulders tensed, and I shifted my weight to the balls of my feet. No one looked at Charlielikethat.

She wasn't mine to protect, but I couldn't helpmyself.

This stranger's arrival was the perfect excuse to go back home and get started on the work I had to finish by the end of the day, but I wasn't leaving Charlie alone withthisguy.

Successfully deactivating the alarm, she finished opening the door, swinging it wide. "Uncle William," she said in an easy, relaxed tone that told me she thought this man was nothreat.

As he took in the bruising on her face and wounds on her cheek and temple, his eyes narrowed, then flickedtome.

"Charlotte, Charlie, sweetheart, whathappened?"

He raised a hand as if to touch her, but dropped it before he madecontact.

Charlie shrugged. "It looks worse than it feels. Someone jumped me when I was walking home the other night. But I'm okay, and Sinclair put in a security systemyesterday."

He frowned, studying her face, then turned to stare me down. Well, he tried to stare me down. I was immune to stare downs from stuck-up old men in suits. I crossed my arms over my chest and returned hismeasuringlook.

There were times when my size was a liability. It came in handy when I wanted to intimidate someone. As I'd expected, he looked away, breaking our eyecontact.

Knowing it would annoy him, I stuck out my hand and said, "Lucas Jackson. Andyouare?"

He took my hand in a firm grip and shook. "William Davis. Are you Charlie'ssecurity?"