Lola adjusted the sleeve of her blazer, pressing her lips together as she stared at the city skyline through the glass walls of her office. The weight of everything she had uncovered about Charles still pressed down on her chest, but it wasn’t just that anymore.
It was Yemi.
Ever since she had told him about Charles, something had shifted between them. He hadn’t accused her outright, but there had been a distance—a hesitation in the way he spoke to her, the way he looked at her, as if he was trying to figure something out, as if there was a question in his mind that he wasn’t voicing.
And Lola knew exactly where that seed of doubt had come from.
Desmond.
She didn’t trust him, and she never had. He was a master at playing both sides, at manipulating people with careful words and quiet
