Page 139 of The Faking Game

“We want him to overplay his hand,” West says. He pours himself a cup of coffee, his hair damp and the sleeves of a navy shirt messily folded up his arms. He looks the picture of athletic ease. Relaxed. Nothing to hide.

“The other night was weird,” I tell them both. “That never happened before I moved here.”

Rafe runs a hand along the stubble of his jaw. “I’ve had profilers working on the stalker’s pattern. But this guy… he doesn’t fit a lot of established archetypes out there.”

“Great,” I say. “I had to go and get theweirdstalker.”

Rafe gives a surprised chuckle. “Yeah. Anything to make my life more complicated.”

“Yes.” I roll my eyes. “Because it’syourlife that’s been upended, isn’t it?”

“You woke up with claws today,” he says. There’s surprise in his voice. I rarely talk to him that way.

“I’ve been sharpening them.” I walk over to the coffee machine, and West, who’s standing right beside it. He doesn’t move, and my arm is only an inch from brushing against his.

I’ve never been more aware of an inch.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I tell Rafe. “But why are you in New York?”

He sighs. “And that’s the welcome I get from dear, dear family.”

“I know you’re busy with the negotiations to buy Mather & Wilde.” I take a sip of coffee and move to stand between them. I lean against my own little slice of cabinetry, like we’re all three fighters in a battle, squaring off. “How is that going?”

“Terribly,” Rafe says in a smooth voice. “The Wilde’s have dug their heels in. I’m offering to make them millionaires and their brand a worldwide success, but they’re arguing over minutiae.”

“Probably not minutiae to them.” I blow on my coffee.

“They know you have the confidence vote with the board coming up,” West says. “Do you think they’re just waiting for the clock to run out?”

“They might be.” My brother’s face hardens, and those green eyes glitter. “But I’m not about to lose.”

“Of course you’re not,” West says. He crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re here about the trip, because you hate losing, and that includes a walk-over.”

Rafe ignores his friend. He looks at me instead. “Tomorrow, Alex, James, West and I are heading out on another trip.”

“A lost weekend?”

“We haven’t called them that in years,” West says, “and I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes are steady on mine. “I told Rafe that with the stalker situation ramping up, I won’t leave the city.”

He won’t leave me.

That’s what he’s really saying.

I look down at my coffee and try, and fail, to stop from feeling the kinds of feelings that will get me hurt around West. To remember that this is only a temporary arrangement.

“How chivalrous,” Rafe says dryly. “Which means there’s only one possible solution.” He looks at me with a wide smile. “Want to go to Costa Rica for a few days?”

“Costa Rica? That’s where you’re going this time?”

“Yes. Sun, sand, sea.” He nudges me. “We’ll explore some caves, hit the seas. It’ll be good for you.”

“A trip… How long?”

“Four days.”

“Nora has things to do.” West’s arms are crossed over his chest. “You know she has the fashion showcase in a few weeks.”

“A few days off will be good for her.”

---