Page 99

I shrug and stare him off, like I’m back in my teens.

“What do you want me to say? It was a charity event. He liked my work. He bought my work. That’s how exhibitions function, isn’t it?”

Dad studies me.

I take a sip of wine, because apparently I’m an idiot who thinks glassware can hide guilt.

“He came with Bryce,” he says.

My fingers tighten around the stem.

“Did he?”

“Alice.”

“What?”

“Don’t play silly games. You’re too old for that.”

I laugh, lightly enough that Mum’s eyes flick to me in warning.

“I’m not playing anything. Jack said he knew Bryce. That’s all I know.”

It’s not 100% bullshit… just more of a curated catalogue of omissions. Because I don’t know Jack. Not properly. Not his childhood, or his favourite colour, or what he looks like when no one is watching and he forgets to be a walking explosion of charm.

But I know his grin.

I know his hands.

I know the way he sees right through people and laughs as he picks the lock.

I know enough that the thought of him has heat blooming under my skin right here at my parents’ dining table.

Holy fuck the way Jack touched me. The way he teased. The way he incited Bryce to do such filthy things to me.

Forbidden.

The word glows in my mind.

Girls like me are like moths around the flames of forbidden. It’s been in my wayward soul since the day I was born.

Dad leans back in his chair. “Jack Reid is not the sort of man I want circling around you.”

“There’s nobody circling around me.”

“Good.”

The word is too quick. Too satisfied.

My heart gives a heavy thud, and suddenly I know Jack is only the beginning of this conversation.

Fucking hell. What next?

Dad folds his hands on the table.

“I’ve had some news from Trevor.”

Oh no.