Page 4 of The Faking Game

“Don’t do that again,” he says in the darkness of the car. I close my eyes and rest my head against the headrest. His voice is deep and soothing.

But he’s saying things I’ve heard so many times.

Do this. Do that. Stand here. Say this.

Be a good girl. Be a good sister. Take care of your younger siblings.We have eyes on us.Smile more, smile less, arch your back.

“You’re not my brother,” I tell him in the darkness.

“No, I’m sure as fuck not,” West mutters. His profile is a dark outline against the city flashing by outside the car window. The sharp jaw is another thing he’s inherited. It shouldn’t be legal to move the way he does, and also look that damn good doing it.

“I appreciate the security guards,” I say. “Truly. But I don’t think I’ll need a lot of protection, and I’ll be very careful. I promise. So thank you, West, but no thanks.”

He looks at me in the dim lighting of the car. “Very nice,” he says, “but that’s not up to you. Tomorrow, you won’t go anywhere without them.”

CHAPTER2

WEST

Nora Montclair is my best friend’s little sister.

And considering Rafe is basically a brother to me, that should make her like my sister. The problem is that the wordshouldhas never really worked the way it’s meant to where Nora’s concerned.

She’s a problem for me. Always has been. From the moment I first met her, years ago, when she walked into the Montclairs’ chalet with a smile on her face and her sketchbook tucked under her arm. Her hair deep brown and glossy, her eyes intelligent, her mouth smiling. Five years younger than Rafe and me, sheltered and lovely.

Only a few inches shorter than me and with a face for billboards and ads.

Now she’s a veryimmediateproblem. Some godforsaken idiot has decided that he’s obsessed with her in an unhealthy way, and Rafe has filled me in about the stalker his security firm has failed to find. How it’s escalated from social media comments, to direct emails, to the first letter arriving at her apartment.

She moved to New York to pursue a design opportunity, and while Raphaël has a great security team trained for his European properties, I know this city.

It’ll be fine. Perfectlyfine.

It’ll just mean interacting with her for weeks on end. Monitoring her position and her safety and being on standby for the security team. Nothing can happen to her on my watch.

Exactly how I’d feel if it was my own sister.

Even if the annoyance I felt last night, shoving away the man who was leaning in when she wanted to lean away, teetered on the edge of something else. Something I can’t afford, can’t indulge in, can’t think too hard about.

I’d last seen her at a party Raphaël threw months ago. She looked pretty in a blue dress, with impeccable manners and a smile that looked natural but I often suspected was anything but.

She’s always had impeccable manners with everyonebutme.

Like last night, in a silky black dress and dark eyeliner, arguing with me every step of the way.

I run my hand through my hair and ignore the stares a few of my employees send my way. I’m not usually at Calloway Holdings in downtown Manhattan, but I’m here today, and they’re noticing.

For some reason, I annoy her. Have for years.

But I promised Raphaël personally that I could guarantee her safety. Because Rafe is family. Has been since we lived at Belmont Academy together as maladjusted teenage boys with too much free time and no parental supervision.

Someone from the executive team stops me; I told her that I wanted to be informed when the latest financials arrived.Do I have time now?

I say yes, even if time is the last thing I have.

This old building has been Calloway Holdings’ headquarters since the thirties, after my great-grandfather made money hand over fist in the steel business. Rumor has it he bought this old stone building during the depression for pennies on the dollar. Ruthless.

Then again, that was him.The Maverick.There have been two biographies released about him just in the past five years; I’ve read neither. Having a portrait of him in my own dining room has cured me of any curiosity. I see his stare often enough. I know what I have to live up to.

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