the juice carafe, so achingly close she could smell the sharp metal. All she’d have to do was reach for it… and hope like hell she was faster than her uncle.
That’s what he wanted—for Charley to make a move. A mistake. A reason for him to take her out of the equation, once and for all.
She wouldn’t dare give it to him.
Anger crept across her chest, heating her skin. Screw family ties. There was a time when she’d loved her uncle, but that time was dead, just like her father. Now, she hated everything about the man. His malicious eyes. The slurping sounds he made as he shoveled in his breakfast. The glint of candlelight on his tacky gold watch.
No matter how hard she’d tried to play the good little thief, she could never get the upper hand with him. He always had another trick up his sleeve, another manipulation, another curveball to throw her completely off-balance.
“So help me understand something,” Rudy said. “Last weekend, did you not waltz into my apartment and make a big speech about how badly you wanted to be involved in this? How badly Travis and I needed you to be involved?”
There wasn’t a right answer, so she nodded and swallowed down another bite of egg, hoping Rudy would say his piece, finish the ego stroke, and get the fuck out of there.
“See? That’s why I’m so confused, kiddo. You say one thing, but the moment I actually call on you, you can’t be bothered to answer your phone.”
“I forgot my phone at—”
“Let me tell you how this is going to work. I’ll speak slowly, so you can follow along.” He sipped his coffee, then blotted his mouth with the cloth napkin like he was some high-society prick trying to impress her. “No more games, no more delays, no more missed calls and ignored texts, no more going off the radar whenever you feel like it. Your only job right now is to convince your boyfriend to get rid of his brothers and whisk you away next weekend.”
“Next weekend?” Charley blurted out, stunned. “You guys are making a move already?”
“We’ve got everything in place.”
“But Uncle Rudy, I can’t. It’s way too soon. Getting them all out of the house on such short notice will be damn near impossible.”
“Hardly impossible for a man of Dorian Redthorne’s significant means and a woman of your significant talents.”
Charley shook her head, adamant. “I need more time. You can’t just—”
“I can, and I will.”
“He’s not—”
“Enough!” Rudy banged his fist on the table, sending his fork clattering to the floor. He leaned forward, gripping Charley’s wrist and lowering his voice to an eerily soothing tone that belied the rage in his eyes. “Allow me to be absolutely clear, Charlotte. If you don’t make this happen, my next visit will not be to cook you breakfast, and I’ll be sure Sasha’s home too.”
Charley felt the blood drain from her face. The room spun before her, and she had to pinch her thigh to keep from passing out.
Rudy sat back, a gruesome smile sneaking across his lips. “Where is that little angel, by the way? Still with Darcy? I would’ve liked to see her today. Such a pretty thing. Reminds me of her mother, don’t you think? So… delicate.”
“Stop,” Charley said, alarmed that he knew about Sasha’s whereabouts. How long had he been stalking her? “You know I’ll do whatever you ask. This has nothing to do with Sasha.”
“What I’m asking is for you to get us unlimited, uninterrupted access to the house next Saturday.”
Charley shook her head. She needed to make him understand—to give her more time. “It won’t work, Rudy. You have to trust me on this—as a woman. Dorian and I are just starting to spend time together. If I suggest a getaway—especially one that involves his brothers—he’ll get suspicious right away.”
The words sat between them like smoke, acrid and dangerous. A vein on Rudy’s forehead pulsed blue against his skin, but Charley couldn’t afford to stop. Stopping meant a lack of conviction—weakness.
“I could plant the seed, though,” she rushed to add. “I know he’s busy with an acquisition at his company, but I’m sure when that’s all wrapped up, he’ll be itching for a vacation.”
Charley didn’t know much about the acquisition—Dorian had only mentioned it in passing—but it gave her claim some legitimacy.
“It’s probably been in the papers,” she hedged, hoping like hell it was true. Rudy had recognized Dorian that night outside the Salvatore; surely, he kept up