Page 57 of Forbidden Game

“Having a conversation.” I unbuckle my seat belt and face her. “What’s going on with you?”

“What’re you talking about?” She mimics my movements.

“First, you avoid me. Then, you ice me out. And now? Now, you’re just being mean.” My voice cracks on the last word.

“I…” Hurt flashes through her eyes before they fill with shame. “I didn’t mean to be mean,” she says softly.

“Someone like me? I need to be smarter?” I repeat the words back to her. “Might as well just call me a dumb rich boy like the tabloids.”

Her head drops, her bangs hiding her eyes, and it hurts me to hurt her. Every part of my body is screaming at me to stop talking. To just brush it under the rug and ignore it, like I do when anyone else says the same shit. I’ve dealt with people spewing this sort of stuff to me my entire life, and I hate it, but I accept it because I know it’s not me. Just like I know this is not her. I know it. I’m willing to put myself through the pain, put her through the pain, if it gets us to the truth.

“I thought you knew me better. You’re supposed to be my friend, Syd.”

“I’m supposed to be your publicist.” She looks up at me through her bangs, a slight sheen to her eyes. “I’m supposed to be your publicist, and you’re making it hard for me to remember that.”

“You’ve never been just my publicist, Sydney. You know that.”

“Parker.” Her voice is a silent plea for me to stop, to not push.

But just like the other night, I know that if I don’t cross the line, if I don’t hold my hand out for her to cross into the darkness, she’ll always stay on the safe side. I don’t care if I have to always be the one putting my heart on the line. I don’t care if I have to take the leap first. Not if it means there’s even the smallest chance she’ll follow.

“I’m serious. For years I’ve pretended like there is nothing more to our friendship when there damn well is.”

“It was a mistake.”

My fists clench at her words. “That’s what you said five years ago. Can’t make the same mistake twice, Sydney.”

“Don’t. Don’t go there.”

“No. We’re having this conversation. I let you brush it under the rug last time; I’m not doing that again just because you’re afraid of the truth.”

“I’m not afraid of anything.” Sydney fumbles as she tries to open the door, and it takes her a second before she successfully lifts it and shoots out of the car. Surprisingly, she’s careful in closing the door before she stalks off.

I sigh, grabbing my keys and shoving them in my pocket before following her out. Five years ago, I kissed Sydney Lake.

I’d only recently moved to the States for The System, and I ran into her while I was waiting in que for takeaway one night. I was instantly obsessed with the petite blonde; she was so fucking cute and when she laughed, I knew I was a goner. I couldn’t stop myself from offering to walk her out to her car, and after her engine sputtered and failed to start, I convinced her to let me drive her home. It didn’t matter that it was in the opposite direction, I just wanted to spend more time with her. I’ll never forget the shy look she gave me before she pressed her lips to my cheek, or the way her eye widened when I pulled her into a kiss.

Not even eight hours later, Mathias had introduced her as our new publicist.

Aleks had run off our last one, and the gossip columns were already littered with more rumors about the “bad boy of streaming” than he could count. I hadn’t bothered getting involved in the hiring process because I had my own external PR team via my family, who were more than equipped to deal with any of the stupid shit I used to pull.

She acted like she’d never met me before and I’d been forced to play along with her little game because I didn’t want to rock the boat. But now? Now, I was going to tip the whole ship over.

I come to stand behind her as she crosses her arms and stares out at the ocean.

“Sydney.”

“I work for you.”

“That’s a shit excuse, and you know it.”

“It’s not an excuse, it’s a fact.” She turns around, and her eyes blaze into mine.

“Fine, you want to talk facts? We’ll talk facts.” I perch on the short fence separating the parking lot from the sandy beach. It brings me eye level with her, even if it doesn’t feel like the most supportive chunk of wood under my ass. “Fact one, I fancy you. Fact two, we’ve made out. Twice. Fact three, I want to kiss you right now even though you look like you want to drown me in the ocean.” I tap my finger with each statement, and I see her resolve waver each time.

“Fact four, Mathias would fire me for all of that,” she adds.

“Fact five, I can fire Mathias,” I counter.

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