You cannot blame me
Luther' POV
The front door flew open, and chaos had already made itself at home.
Charlotte sat beside me, her hands resting on her lap, still and pale. Her mother ran towards her, voice trembling like glass about to shatter.
“Thank you for being with her, Luther. I do not know what would have happened if you were not there.” Her words spilled out in a rush as my brother, Stanley, held her protectively.
“She was just about to say some…”
I nudged Charlotte gently, catching her eye. Not now. This was not the moment for truths.
“No need to thank me,” I interrupted before she could speak. “She is safe. That is what matters.”
There was no need for anyone here to know she had thrown me out just hours ago. Or that we had argued. Or that her eyes, once full of anger, had filled with tears when I carried her out of danger. Let them believe what they needed to. They already had enough questions.
Charlotte let out a quiet, sarcastic breath. But thankfully, she said nothing else.
Stanley cleared his throat and looked at her with concern. “This needs to be reported,” he said as he reached for his phone. “The authorities need to know.”
“No!” Charlotte’s mother cried out, panic rising in her voice. We all turned to look at her.
“I mean…” she struggled, her voice cracking, “I do not want Charlotte to go through what she went through after her father died. The police. The reporters. The endless questions. It almost destroyed her last time.”
Her words fell into a heavy silence. I looked at Charlotte. She was staring at the floor, her shoulders stiff, not blinking. As much as I tried to hold myself together, the urge to shield her from all this was clawing at me from the inside.
“I understand,” Stanley said gently, “but this was a break-in. Someone could have gotten seriously hurt. It has to be investigated.”
“Then investigate it yourself if you must,” Sophia snapped, her hands clenching. “Just leave her out of it. Please.”
Stanley glanced at me and gave a slight nod. A silent agreement. Get Charlotte out of here.
I stood and reached for her hand. “Come on, Charlotte,” I said softly.
She stared at it, then stood without taking it. But she came with me.
That alone told me everything I needed to know, she was shaken. More than she would ever admit.
I led her outside to the car. The sky above us was dark and heavy, and the driveway was quiet. I opened the passenger door for her. She got in without saying a word. I followed, slipping behind the wheel. She sat there, still and silent, like she was somewhere else entirely.
I should not have felt anything in that moment, not relief, not hope. But I did. Because she chose to be here. With me.
That was more than I had expected.
“Do you want me to take you anywhere specific?” I asked, my voice low as I started the engine.
Her eyes stayed on the road ahead. She did not speak.
And somehow, that silence made me want to protect her even more.
"So you dragged me out here without knowing where you’re even taking me?" she snapped, turning to me with a glare that could cut like blade.
A small smile crept onto my lips. There she was, fiery, sharp and alive. That spark in her voice told me she was still here with me and not lost somewhere deep in her mind.
"You really have not lost your sass," I replied, shifting the gear and backing out of the driveway. The street was surprisingly calm, the kind of silence that comes after chaos. A few cars passed, unaware of the storm that had just passed through that house.
"It will take more than a man in a mask to shut me up," she said, staring out the window, her voice tight but steady.
"Oh, I know something that would," I said, keeping my eyes on the road but letting the words hang in the air like bait.
"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, glancing at me with narrowed eyes. Maybe she really did not know what I was implying, or maybe she was playing along.
"Keeping your mouth busy," I said slowly, before adding with a smirk, "by putting it to better use."
She choked on her own breath and clutched her throat, coughing. Her eyes widened as she turned to glare at me.
"Do you have to make everything about sex?" she asked, coughing between words.
I shrugged. "You cannot blame me. Have you looked at yourself lately? Your mouth, your body, that attitude, everything about you is a distraction. And honestly, it drives me mad."
She turned away again, her cheeks tinged pink despite her scowl.
"Do not tempt me to open this door and jump out," she warned.
"You would not get far. The doors are locked," I said lightly, watching her from the corner of my eye. "Besides, I was only giving you a compliment. Or did a few words already get under your skin?"
There was a pause. Just a second too long. And I knew I had struck a nerve.
"You wish," she scoffed. "I have too much going on in my head right now to care about your stupid teasing. And for the record, I would rather have Gavin do all that to me than let your tiny little ego anywhere near my mouth."
Her words hit, but I did not flinch. Instead, I laughed. A real one. Loud and unexpected.
"If he means that much to you, then why did you not call him earlier?" I asked, turning onto the southern bypass, hoping traffic would be kind. She fell silent again. No snappy comeback. No insult.
"That is a simple question, Charlotte," I added, pressing gently. "You barely know the guy. I am pretty sure tonight was the first time you ever met him."
Still nothing. So she was thinking about it too. Because the idea of someone else stepping in when she had always run to me, bothered me more than I wanted to admit. And I was not about to let it go without a fight.
“Why can’t you just mind your own business, Luther?” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.
“Fucking just great,” she muttered under her breath as I slowed the car. We’d caught up with the traffic jam I was hoping to avoid.
“Oh, and are you really sure my dick is small?” I asked, tilting my head towards her. “Because last I checked, you were screaming like a wild animal caught in a muddy pit every time I slid inside you.”
She slapped my shoulder, hard and hissed.
“Stop it!” she growled, folding her arms tightly across her stomach, her pout deepening. That pout, God. She had no idea how much power she held with just that expression. And the sweater she’d thrown on earlier wasn’t helping. I missed the view of her chest, missed how her top clung to her curves when she wasn't trying to shield herself.
“Why?” I teased, flashing her a grin. “I thought you said my words didn’t affect you. Besides, you pouting like that makes me want to lean over and taste those lips.”
“Jesus, Luther,” she groaned, turning her face away. “Why can’t you just shut up for once? We’re stuck in traffic, thanks to you, and all I want is some peace.”
“Thanks to me?” I arched a brow. “I didn’t know I had superpowers to control how many cars show up on the expressway.”
I braked as the car in front of us stopped. All the lanes were backed up. We weren’t moving anytime soon.
“You chose this road on purpose,” she accused. “You knew there’d be traffic so I’d be stuck in here, forced to listen to you.”
I shook my head, a low chuckle slipping from my lips. “Wrong again. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck in this car with you.”
Her eyes fluttered shut briefly, almost like she was trying to shut something out. Maybe me. Maybe herself.
“Because I knew,” I continued, my voice softer now, “I’d have a hard time keeping my hands to myself. Especially with your skirt riding up like that and your thighs just sitting there... tempting me.”
Her breath hitched, but she masked it quickly, looking straight ahead.
“Oh, I’m sure I’m not the only one struggling right now,” I added, my eyes locked on her.
“I’m not struggling with anything,” she said coolly, though the way she crossed her legs gave her away.
I leaned just a little closer. “So you’re telling me that if I reached over, slid my hand beneath that skirt, and moved your panties to the side... I wouldn’t find you wet for me?”
Her body tensed. But she didn’t answ
er. And silence, sometimes, says more than words ever could.
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