Page 115 of Wicked Dreams

I wince.

“Notdrunkper se,” she mumbles. “I mean, it was just?—”

“I’m going to get her upstairs,” I interrupt her. “Sorry, Mr. Bryan.”

Her foster father’s expression is severe when focusing on Margo—but shocked when he looks at me. “Caleb—your lip. What happened?”

I frown, tensing so I don’t automatically touch it. “Just a little disagreement, Mr. Bryan. Nothing to worry about.”

He stares at me for an extra beat. Then, to Margo, “We’ll discuss this in the morning.”

She’ll have fun with that one. I lift her into my arms again and carry her up the stairs. Into her familiar bedroom. I set her feet down to free up my arm, and I drag the blankets back. Then guide her into it and pull everything back into place.

“You’re gonna have a hell of a hangover,” I warn.

She pouts. “Rescue me from the Bryans tomorrow. I’m gonna need it.”

“You got it.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. Her skin is warm under my lips.

And she’s snoring before I make it out of the room.

But when I get back to the Blacks’ house, Amelie waits on my bed.

“What are you doing here?” I raise an eyebrow. Things are finally smoothing out with Margo, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled to gain her trust. If I wasn’t positive Margo was passed out in her bed—the bed I just put her in—I’d be more inclined to drag Amelie out by her elbow immediately.

“You’re not happy I’m here?” Her voice is husky.

I don’t know what the fuck she’s wearing, but it isn’t much. A cropped shirt exposes her abdomen, and a flared skirt covers her underwear.

Barely.

“I was looking forward to an empty bed.” I cross my arms and lean against my doorframe, making it clear that I’ll be venturing no further.

Her fingers play with the bottom of her shirt. “Quite the scene you made tonight.”

“Which is why I’m particularly surprised at your visit.”

She shrugs. “Thought you might want to know someone from our past found you.”

I narrow my eyes. “Let’s cut to the chase, Amelie. You want something for this mysterious information?”

She gets up and comes closer. “Of course I want something. I wantyou.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. Even if I wasn’t all-consumed with thoughts of Margo, Amelie leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

“Not gonna happen.”

She’s close enough to touch. When she arches her back, her breasts brush my chest. She winds her fingers into my hair, and she pulls me down to her. I indulge her kiss for a second, watching her closed eyes. She makes some noises in the back of her throat, and it comes off more like something in porn than a real kiss.

I don’t feel anything.

Which makes it pointless. Before, I felt… a glimmer of prospect, I guess. But now there’s nothing. Just pressure on my lips and the sick feeling that it isn’t Margo.

I shove her away.

She stumbles and falls on her ass. She bursts into tears. “You were my last chance.”

I have no idea what that means. Maybe she’s about to be married off to some stranger? I heard rumors that the Page family was in deep with the Italian Mafia in New York City. I wouldn’t put it past her dad to pull some stunt and solidify that partnership.

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