Ready to find an excuse to pull away—any excuse—my phone rings with “How to Be a Heartbreaker,” my ring-tone for Sofia, saving me from having to shoot Karl down. I’m not sure I would have had the strength.
I push past his arm on the counter, and he pulls back. “So?” I say when I pick up. I peer up at Karl, who is tracking me, a grin full of mischief stretching his perfectly molded lips. God. I bet he can kiss the panties right off a girl.
“Put Karl on the phone!” Sofia nearly yells in my ear.
I startle and jump where I stand. “Why?”
“He’s not picking up, and I need to talk to him.”
Karl’s brows furrow when I stretch my hand out to give him the phone. I mouthSofia, and he takes the phone to his ear.
She says something that causes him to wince. “No, I—” he gets cut off by her again. “Sofia—” then his perfectly chiseled face falls for a moment before his eyes snap up to meet mine. He takes a step backward, almost recoiling as if repulsed by me. “No. I didn’t know.” He lets out a frustrated sigh and turns away from me, running his hand through his hair and pulling it back and away from his face. “Yeah, Sofia. Of course.” Silence while he listens. “You know I would never.” Another silence. “Yeah. I’ll see you later,” he says, sounding resigned.
He hangs up the call and spins on his heel to face me again. Accusation in his eyes, his sharp jaw is set with anger. “You’re seventeen?” he hisses. “And more importantly, you’re Bren’s sister-in-law?”
Crap. I close my eyes. Sofia lied to him.
Karl Sommer thinks I’m jailbait and the lead singer’s family.
I’m neither.
I should correct him. Shouldn’t I? I should tell him I’m nineteen, not seventeen, and that Sofia is not really my sister, but more of anadoptedsister. Then I think about Ethan and how close I came to cheating on him with this man who surely only wants one thing from me. It’s better if I have this giant buffer between us.
So, instead of telling him the truth, I find myself nodding.
4
KARL
Seventeen-fucking-years-old.
“And you’re Sofia’s little sister? When, exactly, were you going to tell me you are Bren’s sister-in-law? Fuck!”
I close my eyes and inhale deeply to calm my racing heart down. When I open them again, Lola stands there, looking shocked to the core. What the fuck is she doing cleaning homes at seventeen years old?
She’s just a child.
And why would Bren and Sofia let her?
My stomach churns. God, the thoughts I had about her. . . what I just did in the shower, thinking of her. Then I almost kissed her! Brenner Reinhart’s sister-in-law. He’d have my balls for this.
I pull my hair back angrily with one hand and toss her the phone to catch.
If I had kissed her, what would have happened? What if it had gone further? My mouth dries up, and I shiver. She’s just a kid. My confused body doesn’t know how to react at this moment. My brain screams for me to be disgusted—I should be by a minor. But the rest of my body already ignited an undeniable desire—and it sure as hell goes both ways. This has danger written all over it.
Career-ending-danger.
There’s too much at stake. Can you go to prison in America? For being with a seventeen-year-old? I make a mental note to ring my lawyer tomorrow. I won’t touch her, but what would happen if people assumed . . . if I were accused?
Forget prison. Bren would end me before I had the chance to get locked up.
“Answer me!” I snap when she just stands there.
She nods again. “Yes—yes.”
I hang my head. This is a disaster. “About what happened in the kitchen . . .”
“I know. I’m sorry,” she apologizes.