Truth or Dare (His Wicked Games 2) - Page 15/60

And then he falls over.

It takes me a moment to realize it’s because Calder has kicked his legs out from under him. He grabs my hands and pulls me to my feet, and then we’re off running. We’re halfway to the car before we run into the other reporters and paparazzi, but we’ve got a good head start. We pass them before they even realize who we are, and by the time they actually start to chase us, we’re at the parking lot. I’m gasping for breath by the time we slide into Calder’s car, and he pulls out of the space so quickly that he nearly gives me whiplash.

I turn and stare out the back windshield as he tears away. Several of the reporters stare after us, while a couple of the photographers snap photos of our retreating car. Our victory, such as it is, doesn’t feel like much of a victory after all. We might have escaped today, but this isn’t the end.

My hands shake as I attempt to smooth and straighten my clothes, but I’m not sure whether it’s because of our narrow escape or the lingering effects of my encounter with Calder beneath the boat.

I glance over at Calder. He’s looking straight ahead, but his jaw is set and I can tell he’s thinking hard. I can’t even begin to guess how his life will change now that the whole world knows his secret.

The worst part is that I sense, with some certainty, that it will change things between us, too, and I don’t know how to stop it.

CHAPTER FIVE

The car ride is awkward, to say the least.

Honestly, I’m still a little aroused, but I know that this is no longer the time or place to tease Calder into some naughty misdeeds. He’s distracted, and his knuckles are white around the steering wheel. I want to break the silence, but what do you say to someone in a situation like this? Oh, no one reZ">0.00% 0.atads those gossip rags anyway! I’m sure it will all blow over soon! Ugh. It just sounds condescending.

We’re halfway back to my place when his phone goes off. Calder doesn’t seem to notice at first—or maybe he’s just ignoring it. Maybe he’s afraid they found his number and are calling to harass him some more. The phone is sitting in the center console, and its vibrations rattle the plastic cup holders and the loose change he’s started collecting there. On the third ring, I glance down at the screen.

“It’s not one of them,” I assure him. “It’s Tim Renley.”

Tim—that’s the guy helping him with all the financial stuff, right?

Calder lets out a long breath. He reaches down and grabs the phone just as the fourth ring is about to cut off.

“Tim, hey,” he says. He listens for a moment, and though I’m trying to pretend I’m not interested in the call, I’m hyper-aware of the way Calder keeps glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Listen,” he says after a moment. “I have some thoughts, but can I call you back later?”

Apparently Tim agrees. Calder thanks him and hangs up, but this time he slides the phone into his pocket instead of dropping it back into the console.

I don’t know what to think. This is the second secretive phone call he’s taken in as many dates. I know his money issues are none of my business, but this goes deeper than that. I can sense it.

I look over at him. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

“Not really.”

I lean my head against the window. I understand, I guess. But I hate that he’s dealing with all of this alone. If his sister were around, or if he had some sort of support system in place… dammit, I’m not going to let him suffer by himself.

“Calder…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Probably all the more reason you should talk about it.”

He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, and I’m afraid he’s going to explode. But after a minute he sighs and tugs a hand through his hair.

“Look, I know you’re trying to help, but I need to deal with this on my own.”

Neither of us says anything for a few minutes. I sense him look over at me.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He sounds exhausted. “I knew this would happen eventually. I was just hoping I had time to sort a few things out before the press started hounding me.”

“What things?” I prompt.

“Please,” he says. “Please, Lily.”

“But—”

“You’re not ready to share parts of your life with me, either.”

I blink, startled by the accusation.

“You won’t tell your father about us,” he reminds me.

“That’s completely different.”

“Is it? I’m not trying to barge into your family affairs. I’m only asking the same courtesy of you.”

His words are like a slap across my face. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong—but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

He sighs. “In light of this recent development, do you mind if I take a rain check on dinner? I—I’m not sure I’ll be very good company tonight.”

I shake my head, even though I’m reeling on the inside. “Take all the time you need.”

This is a fight, isn’t it? Not our first fight—we had our share of disputes back at his estate—but this is different. The fights back at his manor, in their own funny way, actually basically on top of is—but it leaves a sour taste in my mouth and a hollow feeling deep in my gut.

I wish he would say something.

I pick at a loose thread on my dress. This is ridiculous. What am I, some sort of angsty sixteen-year-old falling in love for the first time? We had a disagreement. We’re adults. It happens sometimes. We’re still trying to figure out how we work together. If we work together. Relationships aren’t cupcakes and puppies one hundred percent of the time.

Calder won’t look at me, but maybe he’s just trying to keep his eyes on the road. I wonder if he notices me looking at him. A bit of his hair curls around his ear. On a different day, on a different car ride, I would reach out and touch it. I’d twist it around my finger, maybe, and then when I’d coaxed a smile out of him, I’d gently trace the side of his jaw. It doesn’t look like he’s shaved in two or three days. Maybe he knows I like him better this way, that I like the rough, scratchy feeling of his facial hair against my bare skin.

I want everything to be okay between us. If I could touch him, he’d know. I’d know.

I reach out tentatively, but if he notices, he doesn’t flinch or pull away. I capture that errant curl between my thumb and forefinger, revel in the softness against my skin. My hand brushes against his cheek as I tuck it behind his ear, and though it’s only the lightest of touches, I still feel the shiver move through his flesh. His jaw loosens.