Page 87 of Phantom

His eyes narrow at the no doubt guilty look I have on my face. “Scarlett, are you hiding something?”

“No, of course not.” My smile is brittle at the edges.

I don’t think Sol buys it at all but he lets it go with a nod. His face is weary and I’m almost disappointed he doesn’t catch me in my fib, but it’s for the best.

Now I can focus on figuring out what the hell is going on.

Scene 23

QUESTIONS AND LIES

Scarlett

It’s awkward.

It has been since the cemetery. Since I watched Sol’s mother’s sanity leave her in a blink, right before she slapped her son. Since Rand approached me. Since I caught Sol and Ben arguing aboutme.

We didn’t speak on the short drive home, nor through the tunnels. After he fixed me a Cinderella mocktail, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. When he came back, he’d changed into his bone-white mask, but his navy eye remained. The fact that he would rather be in pain than bare himself to me again hurts, but maybe he’s just more comfortable around people with it in? More than anything, his mood feels strange, and I can’t tell if he’s mad at me. Shouldn’t I be mad at him?

Now we’re in his den while he makes himself a Sazerac and I’m just standing here, sipping my mocktail, trying to figure out what the heck to say.

Awkward.

When he finally finishes pouring his drink the old-school way, from one rocks glass to another, he reclines into the black, high-back leather chair near the gas-log fireplace. The room is only lit by fire and candles, and the way the light glimmers off of his skull mask makes it look like it’s aflame. He stares into the blaze for a long moment before patting his lap.

“Come here,” he murmurs.

Setting my mocktail on an end table, I obey instantly. Even though my brain is telling me to be careful, to think about what Rand said and what I overheard, my heart and body are still saying screw that, you can trust Sol.

I’m still in my gray sheath dress so I attempt to sit on his lap sideways, but he sets his drink on the side table and picks me up to straddle him in the wide chair. His calloused hands skate up my thighs and I stroke his gray tie until I reach the knot. He lets me loosen and remove the tie, but when I go to unbutton his shirt, he snags my hands before I get too far, and rests them on his shoulders, instead. When he lets go, his hands return to gliding up and down my thighs until his fingertips meet the apex of my legs. I shiver as he repeats the soothing motion.

“You’ve been so full of questions,petite muse. Is there a reason why you’re holding back now?”

My eyes widen. “Would you answer them?”

He nods slowly. “Would you answer mine?”

That makes me still. What more could this man want to know? “I thought you knew everything about me.” I chuckle.

“Almost.” The left side of his lips quirk up. “But I hardly know anything about your dad.”

“Oh.” I frown. “I’m not sure what you could possibly want to know, but sure. I’m an open book.”

“Okay, then. I’ll go first. Is there anything you want to tell me? Maybe get something off of your chest?”

“That’s your question?” My eyebrow rises.

He shrugs. “Just curious if you had anything on your mind.”

Rand found me in the cemetery. He said you were evil and that you’re using me to get to him.

Yeah, there’s no way I can tell him all that. So I lie.

“No… I don’t think so.”

Disappointment flits across his face. “Alright then. Your turn.”

Wanting to get the question I’ve had on my mind all afternoon out of the way, I swallow. “I thought… from the way we talked… I thought your mother was dead.” I wince, immediately regretting the question.