Page 53 of The Faking Game

“I’m sorry!” I quickly pull my hand away from his chest. “Did I hurt you? God, I’m so, so sorry.”

West starts to laugh. He slides his hand up through his hair and then locks his arm behind his head. “That,” he says, “was a triumph. You do have some anger in you, don’t you? You showed me your fangs.”

I turn over onto my back beside him. And something in his own mirth brings out my own. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Feel good?”

“Yes. Is that terrible?” I close my eyes, still smiling. “Am I a violent person?”

“No,” he says. “And you did real well, trouble.”

He props himself up on an elbow, his dark hair hanging over his forehead. I let my gaze run over that scar of his again. The one through his left eyebrow. I’ve always wondered how he got it.

But I’ve never been close enough to him to ask. It’s one of the many secrets behind West Calloway, the rich-boy heir turned bachelor king. “Why does your mother want you to get married so badly?” I ask instead.

“Why have you never been in a relationship?”

We stare at each other. His eyes look honeyed, the color of thick syrup. We both know we’re at an impasse. We may be locked in this together, but that doesn’t mean all the truths should come tumbling out.

There’s a sharp knock on the door before it opens. West’s jaw tenses, and he rolls away from me, pushing up into standing. “Ernest?”

The dignified estate manager looks from West to me, still on the floor. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s been another incident.”

CHAPTER16

WEST

Theincidentis an envelope.

The experts I hire spend the next few days analyzing it. The manila envelope is post-stamped in New York, and it contains pictures of Nora from the past week. Out running. With her guards outside a fabric store. The picture from theLong Island Tribuneof the two of us is attached, too, cut out in precise lines. There’s a note with handwriting that immediately gets sent off for analysis.

He won’t keep you from me.

It’s unnerving. Unsettling. It’s also a clear escalation from what she received back in Paris. There were letters, but sometimes weeks went by between them. Now it’s barely been a week since the bouquet incident.

The plan might be working. Annoying him, drawing him into getting more reckless. I need more moments like the polo match or the party.He won’t keep you from me.Yes, I will. And I need to goad this obsessed stalker into making a mistake… and then I’ll catch him.

The day after, when we’re back in the gym, I tell Nora about it. Show her images of what was sent and what I’m going to do with it. What my team is looking for and analyzing.

She nods through it all, asks a few follow-up questions. Her hands are balled up and her expression is tight. Like she’s holding back what she’s really feeling. But she can’t hide the effort it takes.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Thank you for telling me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“I really do appreciate it, West. Rafe doesn’t usually share this much with me. And I want to know. It’s my life, after all.”

I shake my head. “Not that. I don’t need thanks.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“Are you angry? Scared? Annoyed? He knows you’re living here. He’s been watching you,” I say, andI’mangry. The idea of someone thinking they have any right to her…

“It wouldn’t be productive.” She locks herself back under control, and the effort I saw on her face disappears. She becomes a still lake again. “Let’s continue with the moves you taught me.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “It’s notproductive?”

“I can’t do anything about it,” she says. We’ve been practicing self-defense maneuvers for an hour already. How to get out of a grip, how to twist a man’s arm. How to break out of a chokehold.

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