his hands behind his head and smiles as his eyes glide over me. “What? Is my smelly cologne too irresistible for the great Charlotte Cavendish-Holt?”
I drape my blanket around me like a cape and hold it under my chin. “Don’t be absurd.” Even as I protest, I can feel my traitorous skin warming.
Ricardo fairly crows with pleasure, his smile growing into a grin. “Ah, I see it now. You’re falling in love with me, and you’re embarrassed. Don’t be. I’m hard to resist.”
I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. “You have got to be the most arrogant, cocky boy-child I have ever met.”
Pushing off the floor, Ricardo props his elbows on the edge of my bed and comes within a few inches of my face. “I am. And you love it.”
A tangled ball of thoughts and feelings is pinging around my insides so fast I can’t even tell what’s going on in there. But I know I have to stop this before it goes any further. This conversation feels more dangerous than any I’ve had with Ricardo in the past.
Probably because he’s closer to the truth than I’ll ever admit.
Scrambling past him, I jump off my bed and scoop up my phone. The cool air cuts through my gauzy thoughts. “Cut it with the flirting. Let’s talk about something else. Like who would have the motive to attack me. I’m going to tell you something, but you can’t freak out or go all soft on me. Deal?”
Ricardo leans back against my bed, facing me. “As you wish, mon coeur.”
I shoot a glare at him, but he just chuckles.
“I’m a nicknamer, Char. Can’t help it.”
I huff, but leave it there.
“Now, what were you going to tell me that’s going to make me go soft on you? Like I said, I already know you’re crazy for me.”
There’s a suspicious flutter in my abdomen at his words. “You wish, but it’s not that. The other night, when someone attacked me? I didn’t tell you the whole story.”
Ricardo’s brows bunch, but he stays quiet.
“When he was,” my hand rises to my throat, “suffocating me, he threatened me. Told me to stop looking into Professor Rook’s death, or he’d kill me.”
As I predicted, Ricardo’s eyes go liquid. The usual teasing antagonism is missing. Since when has he looked at me like that? He steps closer to me and puts his hands on my upper arms. “God, Charlotte, you should have told your parents. You still should. As your fake boyfriend, I insist you protect yourself, unless your goal is to keep me by your side at all times. Because I’ll do it, you know.”
The butterflies in my stomach start doing backflips, but I mentally threaten them with pins and glass cases. Gently pulling out of Ricardo’s grip, I turn away from his intense gaze. “You’re getting all mushy on me, playboy.”
He’s quiet for a beat before his whisper comes, caressing my shoulder. “Sorry. I’ll try to refrain.”
Nodding, I pick up my phone, focusing on my objective. “I figure that whoever attacked me was involved with the professor’s death, maybe even killed him, and that’s why he doesn’t want me to look into it. So I need to make a list of all of the people who might have wanted Professor Rook dead. Then we can do some investigating.”
Ricardo cocks his head. “Have you ever noticed that when you say “we,” you’re assuming I’ll participate in whatever scheme you’re cooking up? Fake dating, fake fights, murder investigations. It’s almost as if you think you can count on me to follow your lead, despite all of your blustery attempts to push me away.” His mouth twitches as he ticks them off on his fingers.
The shock at being caught out must show on my face, because Ricardo nods. “Yes, I know exactly what you’re doing, mon coeur, because I’ve done it myself. A hundred times.” He drops his face toward mine, lowering his voice. “And yes, you can count on me.”
I don’t believe him, yet, but I want to.
That’s when I know this fake relationship can only end one way—with pain. Because Ricardo is right. I do push people away. I always insisted it was easier that way, but for once the truth is too loud in my head to ignore. It was for protection. For my own heart. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from the past seventeen years, it’s that the people you love? They leave.
Our list of suspects is unsatisfactorily brief, because we