Page 123 of The Grand Duel

“I’m not.” He chuckles.

“Why is it always so chaotic with you and them? The house and this. I remember the day I met them at The Montwell, and you were literally having a pillow fight.”

“It’s always been that way. I’d never admit it to them, but they’re like brothers to me.”

“Adorable,” I tease.

He rolls his eyes.

“But you love it—law. You have passion for it now.”

“I do. I unexpectedly found drive and haven’t really stopped chasing it since.”

“I read an article a couple weeks ago that said the Charles Aldridge group was now ranked among the top five law firms. That’s globally.”

He nods. “When we expanded overseas two years ago, things really went crazy.”

“And he just picked it out of a hat,” I say, astonished. “That’s…ridiculous.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. There’s been some very specific moments in my life where I’ve stood in my office and felt like it’s exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. Granted there’s been moments I’ve wanted to go back and pull out aviation.”

I smile. “You’d make a great pilot.”

“I would,” he agrees, eyes locked on mine, holding, not letting me go. And then he smiles. “You been googling me, Lis?”

My cheeks ache as my own smile grows. “Ed and I were sending info over to the website people to update. Don’t go thinking I’m in love with you.”

“No,” he says, drawing out the word. “You just fancy me a little bit.”

My face roars with heat, and I drag the duvet up to my nose. “Is that going to be a problem?”

He gazes across at me, time passing but not feeling awkward or strained anymore, just…right. “So long as you don’t get infatuated.”

I reach over and brush the bridge of his nose with my pinkie and then hold it up between us. “I won’t. I promise.”

He fights the smile this time, reaching over with his pinkie and brushing over my freckles. He links it with mine, copying me. “Then we should be just fine.”

Just fine.

But then he releases my little finger and slowly, gently, links our entire hands. His large, rough, warm fingers sinking between mine and holding.

I swallow and look up at him. “An entire month, Charles,” I warn, reminding him about the consequences.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he defends, settling our hands on top of the divide.

“I wish you would,” I say brazenly, my voice a whisper. I keep my eyes lowered. “I wish you’d pull me over these pillows and kiss me.”

“Lis.”

“And that. I wish you’d call me Lis all the time. The way it makes me feel…” I frown, embarrassed. “Like home, but brand new too.”

Our eyes don’t waver, and although nothing’s ever happened between us, I can’t help but think we’re too far gone. That whatever has materialised between us is bigger than either one of us anticipated.

“My friends call me Charlie,” he rasps, dusting his thumb up and down my index finger, almost as if he’s nervous. “I’ve wanted you to call me Charlie for a very long time.”

I smile, my heart racing. Something tells me it takes a lot for this man to let people get close enough to call them afriend. “Charlie,” I say aloud, testing the name, but instantly my smile drops, my mind?—

“Fuck, I want you.” His voice is strained as if he’s fighting the words, his jaw flexing as his eyes darken. “I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything as badly as I want you.”