Page 45 of Mind Maze

Well, that’s not fucking happening…

Romy

Calista.

The secret, we-can’t-say-her-name Calista, just texted Caius. Based on his stiff, shocked response, I’d say he isn’t used to receiving texts from her. He taps out a text reply to her immediately.

Caius: Prove it’s you.

This piques my interest. Is he separated from Calista? Is he secretly looking for her? It might be why he doesn’t want her name spoken. Maybe he wants to keep her safe.

She responds back nearly as quickly as he did.

Unknown Number: You were fifteen when they took you from me. I was made to stay behind. You wore a green shirt that day when those two suited men came for you.

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He bursts from the love seat and storms toward our room. I scurry after him, desperate to know more about what’s happening. Caius is usually so tightly coiled. Seeing him visibly losing his shit is worrisome.

I close the door to our room, watching him as he paces the floor in front of the bed, his eyes glued to his phone. Pain is etched in his twisted expression, which, in turn, makes my chest ache for him.

She’s definitely someone important to him.

The thought she may be a past romantic interest, possibly a high school or college girlfriend, surprisingly hurts.

Slowly, I approach Caius. He’s tense and scowling at his phone. When I touch his arm gently, he flinches as though I’ve jerked him from another world.

“I can’t trace the number,” he blurts out, eyes bouncing to mine before jerking back to his screen. “I feel so fucking useless.”

Caius is a monster. He’s done despicable things. But there’s a vulnerable man hiding deep inside. I’ve seen glimpses of him from time to time. The cold, villainous asshole is a thick facade hiding someone actually likable underneath. I’ve seen his gentle, caring nature toward Kaitlyn, and even me at times. It’s that man I wish I could help.

“Could Solomon know where Calista is?” I ask. “Or Ava?”

He recoils at my words, flashing me a disgusted look. “No.”

Okay.

“What about your father?”

This time, his features turn to solid ice and his eyes darken. “Stop.”

“Stop trying to help you find your wife?”

He sneers at me. “She’s not my wife, jealous little girl, she’s my sister.”

Then the anger fades as he realizes what he’s done. Out of a fiery burst of anger, he gave me a piece of his puzzle. I yelp when his fingers seize my jaw. The darting of his eyes back and forth is terrifying, like he’s losing his mind right here and now.

“Sister,” I murmur, my heart breaking for him despite his anger. “How can you, with all your resources and connections, not find her?”

Wrong question.

He staggers away from me, shakily raking his fingers through his hair with one hand. The other grips his phone so tightly hisknuckles turn grotesquely white. I’ve never seen him so frantic or shaken. Not ever.

“I wasn’t insulting you,” I say softly. “It was a legitimate question. Maybe I can help. I want to help, Caius.”

His head shakes back and forth as though my idea is preposterous. I walk toward him as one might do with an injured animal they want to help.Please don’t bite. I just don’t want you to hurt anymore.

My palms find his chest and he shudders at my touch. As I slide them up over his solid pectoral muscles, he relaxes slightly. I tease my palms up his neck and then cradle his face with them, my fingertips running soothing motions through his scalp. His eyes flutter and his handsome face turns slack.

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