Page 62 of Beautiful Lies

Her gaze lingers for a moment before she looks away again.

The rest of the journey passes in suffocating silence. Don navigates the rain-slicked streets with practiced ease, but I can feel his discomfort radiating from him.

It takes fifty-three fucking minutes to reach home. Each minute stretched like an eternity while Isla sat rigid next to me.

The moment Don pulls into the private garage, Isla is moving. She doesn't wait for him to come around and open her door. She's already out, her heels clicking sharply against the concrete as she strides into the house. Her spine is ramrod straight, shoulders set in a line that screams boldness.

I nod my thanks to Don then follow my furious bride-to-be. She takes the stairs two at a time. No pause, no hesitation, she just marches like she’s going off to war.

Her jaw lifts higher as she disappears inside the bedroom.

I walk in and close the door, then watch her take her hair down from its tight ponytail.

I’m instantly reminded of my voyeurism from the night before when I watched her strip down to nothing. The memory stirs my cock, and I have to fight to maintain my focus.

"Isla." My voice cuts through the silence.

She doesn't turn around.

"I meant what I said in the car," I speak with more insistence.

"So did I. I don’t want to talk about Chad.”

“Tough. We’re talking about him.”

She spins around, eyes flashing, her hair tumbling down her shoulders. “Did you need to be so damn rude to him?”

“Yes. I told you. He wants to fuck you.”

“How do you know that?” Her eyes blaze.

“I know, trust me.” I’m not just saying that because I want to fuck her. I know because I know what men are like.

“Even if he did, what is it to you?”

Heat streaks through my veins like hot lava, ready to explode. “You’re not to see him again.”

"Are you kidding me? How dare you tell me who I can and can’t see?”

“You fucking heard me. You’re not seeing him again.”

“This is ridiculous. He’s a friend. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“I don’t care. I won’t have another scandal on my hands.” I say that, but deep down, I know it’s not just a public scandal I’m worried about.

“Knox, you’re being impossible.”

“Am I?” I glare at her and cock my head. “Okay. Tell me this, love: is dear old Chad just visiting New York, or is he back?”

“He’s back, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“He asked you for a second chance, didn’t he?” I cut her off, shutting down the argument before it starts. “Well?”

“Yes.”

I close the space between us until I’m a breath away. “You can see the problem, right? My contract was clear—no fucking around. No cheating.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m not fucking around or cheating, I’m still within the contract.”