The Lies We Tell (The Four 1)

I climbed out of the car and stood, staring at the hotel perched on the cliff, where my mother had met the mysterious Littlefinger. A tall Victorian building, it had definitely seen better days. The cream paintwork was dirty, chipped, and peeling, and one of the windows had a spiderweb of cracked glass stretching across it, covered from the inside by what looked like duct tape.

“Okay. Let’s do this,” I muttered, pushing open the heavy wooden door and walking inside. The man behind the reception desk looked up from his newspaper as we entered.

“Uh. We’re here to have coffee?” I eyed him hesitantly.

“Bar and restaurant’s through there,” he recited in a bored tone, pointing at a door to our left, and resumed reading his paper.

“Friendly bloke, isn’t he,” Cade murmured in my ear, steering me into the bar area with a hand on the small of my back.

I stopped dead as we entered, and he almost ran into me. “Look!” I hissed. “That’s the table she was sitting at.”

“You’re right.” His voice was low. “Come on.” He walked over to the table tucked away in the corner and sat down, and I sat opposite him in the exact same seat my mother had been in.

I picked up a menu from the table, trying to appear unobtrusive while scanning the room. I felt really unnatural and like everyone was looking at me, even though in reality, no one was. There were about six other patrons in the room, chatting quietly and not paying any attention to us.

“Act normal.” Caiden frowned at me.

“I’m trying. I’m just nervous.”

He rolled his eyes. “Relax, will you.”

I clenched and unclenched my fists, tapping my nails on the table.

“For fuck’s sake.” He stood up. “Stand up.”

I rose to my feet immediately, and he grabbed my chair and dragged it around the side of the table so it was on the corner next to his, rather than directly opposite.

“Sit,” he instructed, folding his large body back on to his own chair. I sank back into my seat, and he leaned over to me. “That’s better.” He slid his hand onto my jean-clad thigh under the table, and I gasped. He squeezed once—a warning, then moved his hand further up. My nerves disappeared as my whole world shrank to the place he was touching me. “You doing okay, there, Snowflake?” His voice dropped, turning from annoyed to a rough caress.

I could only nod mutely. I took a deep breath and raised my eyes to meet his unreadable gaze. He stared at me, then licked his lips, slowly, deliberately.

Fuck. Me.

I gripped the edge of the table to ground myself as his hand moved higher. He kept his eyes locked with mine the whole time.

“Can I take your order?” I jumped at the cold, intrusive voice.

“Two lattes,” Cade barked out, without taking his eyes from me. I heard footsteps retreat, and then it was just us, tucked away in our corner of the room.

I swallowed hard. His hand stopped, so close to where I really, really wanted him to touch me, but really, really shouldn’t in a public setting.

“What’s going on?” I managed to get the words out, my voice hoarse.

“I’m distracting you.” An amused smirk tugged at his lips.

Why did he have to be so irritating, but so sexy? “Um. Okay?”

Before he could say anything else, we were interrupted by the waiter returning with our order.

“Two lattes.” He set the crockery carelessly down on the table, sending coffee sloshing down the side of my cup.

I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.

“Chill, it’s only spilled coffee,” Cade hissed as the waiter walked away.

“No.” I stared after him, shaking my head. “No.”

“What is it?” Suddenly he was right in my face, lifting my chin so I was forced to meet his eyes.