I was relieved when I heard a knock at the door. I was sure that Ethan and I could figure out a solution. Two brains were better than one.
“Come in!” I called, throwing my much-abused sponge in the sink. I wiped my hot-pink rubber gloves against my T-shirt and walked into the living room, secretly hoping he’d taken pity on me and picked up some Korma on his way here. “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked.”
I looked up and froze, seeing Hugo closing the door behind him. Had I summoned him by thinking about his cock? Was that how it worked? I quickly removed my gloves, unable to stop feeling self-conscious then and there.
It wasn't that I wanted to impress Hugo St-John in any way, but just seeing him there, standing in his overpriced light-gray, three-piece suit, which probably cost more than all the furniture in my flat, made me feel completely out of place.
I looked down at my bleach-stained sweatpants and my oversized T-shirt and winced.
“You should lock your door, you know,” he repeated.
I frowned at the reproach in his voice. Who was he to judge me?
“How did you come upstairs?”
He shrugged, looking around the room. “I dazzled the shop owner. She was more than happy to let me up.”
I rolled my eyes. That old lady really had a weak spot for a handsome face and he was the epitome of hot.
“Why are you here?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I want a repeat of our night together.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure! Like that wouldeverhappen again.”
His back straightened and his jaw tightened. Was he serious? Had I offended him? No, he couldn’t be. Not after everything that had happened between us.
“Hugo, I—”
“How much did he pay you to be his beard?” he asked, interrupting me.
“What?”
He looked around my living space, his mouth slightly tipped down, obviously unimpressed.
“I mean, despite the more than ridiculous size of this place and its…” His eyes stopped on the ratty old reading chair in the corner. “Obviously cheap furnishing, this is a prime rental location. What’s the rent here? £2,000 a month?” He tipped his head to the side. “I have a hard time believing you can afford this on a marketing assistant's £32K salary.”
I opened my mouth and closed it again. So many questions formed in my head at once, and I was not sure which one to ask first. How did he know where I lived and what my job was? Plus, how much I was making? All of these were way too concerning to allow me any coherent thoughts. Why should I justify myself to him? Who was he to judge me? It was none of his business that the old lady downstairs was one of my mom's oldest friends and that in exchange for me helping around the flower shop every once in a while, I got this tiny one-bed flat for an absolute steal of £700 per month. I crossed my arms over my chest, realizing much too late that it was a mistake. I was not wearing a bra and his eyes automatically fell to the swell of my breasts. “Ethan's my best friend, I did it for him. He didn’t pay me,” I replied coldly, only a few words away from chasing him out of my home. “Does he even know you’re here?” I doubted it. There was no love lost between the St-John brothers.
He sighed. “Come on, nobody gives these types of favors for free. People always want something in return. Selflessness is just a myth. I’ve never met anyone who had no ulterior motives.”
I scrunched my nose—how sad was that statement?
"If that is the case, I would suggest you find better friends."
"I don't have any friends," he replied impassively.
I snorted. With an attitude like that, how could he? “Color me surprised.”
He tensed again, and the irritation on his face was not even veiled anymore as his jaw ticked.
“Well, I presume you just didn’t meet the right people then."
"I’ve met every kind of people there is to meet, Ms. Byrnes."
"I disagree with you. I had no ulterior motive," I added stubbornly.
He shrugged, apparently deciding that this was not worth the fight. "But you have sentiments. Sentiments are weaknesses. Caring is not an advantage, and it puts you both in a very dear situation."