Page 118 of Beautiful Lies

Dorian smiles. “Not sure. I may make use of the time and visit some old friends.”

Women.That’s what he means. His list extends well beyond New York.

I roll my eyes at him. “You’re welcome to stay at the villa with us.”

He waves a dismissive hand and shakes his head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I think it’s best to keep my distance from you and Isla.”

“Why? What the hell does that mean?”

“How about we talk about that some other time?” He gives me a knowing smile that grates on my already-frayed nerves.

“Fine.” I don’t want to waste any more time. Dorian is obviously being perceptive again and seeing too much I’m not ready for anyone to see. “I have to call Isla.”

“Yes. You should do that.”

While he packs away the documents on the table, I pull out my phone and find Isla’s number. The need to hear her voice makes my pulse spike.

I hitCall.

The line rings twice before her voice comes through, soft and cautious, like she’s bracing for impact. “Hello?”

My chest tightens. “Hello, love.”

Dorian freezes mid-movement and glances over at me. “Love?” he whispers.

I turn away, shutting him out, focusing entirely on Isla.

There’s a faint rustle on her end, the kind that tells me she wasn’t sure she wanted to pick up.

“I’m sorry, who am I speaking to?” Isla asks, her voice flat and stripped of every emotion I’m desperate to hear.

Shit.She’s being funny with me.

“It’s me, Knox. How many people call youlove?”

There’s silence for a beat. Then, in the politest, iciest customer service voice I’ve ever heard, she says, “How can I help you?”

I clench my jaw, searching for the right words even though none of them feel good enough.

The problem here—the problem I’ve always had with my little artist—is that I’ve met my match.

She gives as good as she gets. She never backs down. And she sure as hell isn’t going to make this easy for me.

All I can do is throw myself on my sword and cut straight to the point.

“Sorry. I should’ve called sooner.”

The silence that follows is long and unyielding. She gives me nothing. Not a sound. Not a breath.

“Are you okay?” I ask quietly, even though I already know the answer is going to take a piece out of me.

Her breath comes through the line, barely audible.

Then, in a voice so controlled it makes my chest ache, she says, “I’m fine, Knox. I always am.”

It’s the kind of answer that tells me she’s anything but fine and I did exactly what she expected me to do—let her down.

“I’m on the way to the villa now. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Where are you?” There’s a bustling noise in the background that sounds like she’s around people.