Page 15 of Brazen Deceits

I’m about to call his bluff, but his posture loosens, a brittle grin slicing across his face, and he laughs at me, cutting the tension, breaking it before we can fight. But I can see through his mask. He’s all fucked up in the head over the damn girl. “We brought her into this. Now, no way she’s going to be happy with the white picket fence life she’d imagined. She’s made for this, whether or not we like it.”

He looks away, his nostrils flaring. When he turns back, he’s got on a snake’s grin, his eyes rock hard. “You know what? I’ll take your thousand-dollar bet, but not about her being good at reading people. I’ll bet you a thousand dollars that she’s a full member of the board in less than a year.” He raises one eyebrow, challenging me to take the bet.

Fuck. That’d be permanent. This isn’t some normal, boring business with board members moving on and changing positions. No, we set up our board to last, considered retirement, death, a whole life of our talents tied together, with exit only allowed by member vote. It must be unanimous, and you never get back in. Once in, you’re in. Once out, you’re out.

A thousand dollars that Clara will be in this for the long haul. That she’ll be working alongside us forever.

Yeah. Right.

Give a fool enough rope, and they’ll hang themselves. I can hand her a nice silk one and see what happens. And I’ll start with today’s meeting.

I hold out a hand. “Deal.”

Walker takes it, sealing the bet with a shake. A shadow passes over his face, like he expects to lose, barely visible behind his goddamn grin.

The second his hand clasps mine, my stomach rolls.

If I’m so sure I’m going to win, why do I feel like vomiting?

It must be the fucking fish.

Chapter 8

Clara

My eyes follow Walker as he goes into RJ’s room. He’s barely looked at me this morning, and I’m worried. I’d hoped we’d killed whatever was bothering him last night, transformed it into something good. And while he’s not angry anymore, he’s turned hollow, an absence beside me.

Hopefully, he’s just tired. Considering it’s just past 7:45 a.m. and the game ended after 3 a.m., no one is going to be their best right now.

With a sigh, I turn the key Walker left for me and step into Jansen’s room. It’s time to wake him up for a meeting about the fence.

While I’ve had a peek or two of RJ and Jansen’s rooms, I’ve only ever been in Walker’s room. The guys all lock their doors and like to come and find me as soon as I walk into the house. At least I understand their caution now. If anyone figured out what the guys were up to, it could be catastrophic.

I close the door behind me, letting my eyes adjust to the half dark. Thick curtains cover the window in Jansen’s room, blocking the pale morning light. I don’t know why I expected chaos, considering how neat Jansen always is, but once I’m in, I realize that’s exactly what I thought was in here.

Instead, the room is faultless. A desk in the corner has textbooks stacked in one corner, notebooks in another, an older laptop closed in the middle. He has a bookshelf to the side, half filled with books and old locks, keys, and small tools placed to look like art, not like half-done projects. A circle rug is soft under my toes, the colors indecipherable without the light on.

Jansen sprawls across his twin-sized mattress, one foot and one hand free from the blankets, his hair loose around his head. I sneak forward, afraid to wake him, and after a moment, slip under the blanket next to him. I kiss him on the cheek, waiting for him to stir.

He doesn’t even twitch.

I run my hand down his chest, my fingers brushing through a small patch of hair, over those dancer muscles I love to watch move. Even in the half-light, I can tell that Jansen isn’t waking up, despite my hand wandering over his chest.

With a grin, I press my ice-cold toes against his shins, waiting for his screech. Instead of jolting away, Jansen flops an arm and a leg over me, pulling me so my nose smooshes against his chest.

And that’s the moment I learn Jansen likes to sleep naked.

Totally and completely naked.

My arm’s trapped practically on top of his dick, and I don’t know what to do. For a split second, I debate a wake-up handjob, but that seems creepy, as we’ve never actually been naked together. Shit.

“Jansen?” I whisper.

“Uhh,” he says.

“Jansen, it’s time to wake up.”

He pulls me even tighter, and now my hand is legitimately holding onto his dick. I couldn’t move it away if I tried. And the thing is getting stiffer the longer I’m palming it.

---