Chapter 4

Fridays and Saturdays belonged to Arthur.

Of the three men, Arthur resembled Max the most. Whenever he pressed his lips together, Charlotte would momentarily forget herself, almost believing Max had come back to her.

That was why she put up with more from Arthur than she did from the other two.

Arthur was different. All he ever wanted Charlotte to do was cook him pasta, over and over again.

His parents had divorced when he was little, and he'd grown up with hardly anyone paying attention to him. Then, on his birthday, Hazel had made him a plate of pasta.

He'd adored her ever since.

He'd never forgotten how that pasta tasted, and he kept making Charlotte try to recreate it. But no matter how many times she tried, it was never good enough for him.

With her hand still injured, the pasta turned out even worse than usual.

Arthur took one bite, and his expression darkened. He hurled the plate at her, his eyes blazing with cold fury.

"You've been making this for so long! How can you still not get it right?"

The hot pasta splattered onto the back of Charlotte's hand, leaving an angry red mark. She cried out softly.

Only then did Arthur notice her injured hand. He hurried over and grabbed it.

"You're hurt? Who did this to you?"

Charlotte bit her lip and said nothing.

Her silence only made him more agitated. He began checking her for other injuries, and his expression darkened when he saw the wounds and hickeys on her body.

"Was it those two? You're mine! What gives them the right to touch you?"

Arthur had always been possessive of Charlotte, especially her face. To him, Hazel was someone who should never be mistreated.

That was why he'd been so furious when Zeke made Charlotte catch his cigar ash in her bare hands. Seeing all her injuries now only made him angrier.

Arthur took Charlotte's hand and led her out to find Dylan and Zeke. Once they were in the car, he checked with his assistant and learned that the other two had gone to Virelle Estate.

Arthur frowned and muttered, "What are those two doing there?"

Without giving it much thought, he floored the gas, pushing the car to 120 mph as he raced toward the estate.

When they pulled into the parking lot, they spotted Dylan's Maybach and Zeke's Bentley in the distance. The entrance was lined with flowers, and it was clear that a lavish party was underway.

Dylan and Zeke rarely attended parties. Whoever was hosting this one must have been pretty important to get them both to show up.

Charlotte took in the pink roses and balloons floating overhead. A suspicion began to form in her mind.

Arthur seemed to have the same suspicion. He told Charlotte to wait for him, then strode toward the entrance.

Charlotte sighed. She was about to head back to the car to rest when a vaguely familiar voice called out from behind her.

"Lottie? Is that really you?"

She turned in surprise and saw a man looking at her closely.

It was Edward Reeve, an old college friend of Max's.

Edward shook his head, clearly upset to see her like this.

"Lottie, Max has been dead for years. You need to move on. You can't afford to cross men like Dylan, Zeke, and Arthur. If they ever find out you've been using them as stand-ins, they won't let you get away with it."

Just then, three voices rang out behind her at once.

"What do you mean, stand-ins?"