Page 145 of The Faking Game

James scoffs. Even in this heat, he’s in a crisp white shirt. “Some of us don’t need to jump off cliffs to feel alive.”

“No,” Alex retorts with a crooked smile. “Some of us just never do, huh?”

“I’m plenty alive. And you haven’t been in a boardroom long enough to complain about it,” James says. “You’re neglecting your company.”

Alex shakes his auburn head. “It runs itself. I’m more interested in Nora. How are things going with the stalker?”

James lowers his glass. “Alex.”

“Are we not supposed to talk about that?”

My gaze flickers over to West, but he’s just watching me. There’s a steadiness there that brings me back to myself. “It’s okay,” I say. “We can talk about it. There’s not a ton of updates, to be honest. But we’re hoping he does something stupid now that I’m away. Pretending to date West has been good. Seems to have shaken him lose a bit from his old patterns.”

“Nora is safe,” West says. “We’re closing the noose, but it’s been a longer process than we would have liked.”

“This guy is a professional,” James says. “I don’t like that.”

“Me neither. I’ve been looking into it,” West says. I know he has been. He has his team searching for patterns based on lists of names both Rafe and I have given him. Every shoot I’ve done in the past year, itemized and submitted.

“What is it like to pretend to date West?” Alex looks at me with a grin. “Tell me it’s terrible, please.”

“You really want to know?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Give us ammunition,” James says.

I look over at West. He meets my gaze with one of his own, and there’s dry amusement there. “It’s been… a real learning experience.”

James looks at me. “What have youlearned?”

“Just how annoying he can be,” Alex suggests. “That he claims tohatebeing in charge but somehow always ends up there. He loves doing his duty. Whatever it might be. I think it’s his kink.”

“You having any kind of knowledge about hiskinksis disturbing,” James says.

“Neither of you know my kinks,” West answers calmly. He’s still looking at me, and I hear him in my mind, whispering sweet, filthy praise. “And you weren’t the person asked. Nora was.”

“Well…” I reach up and rub my neck. “He is surprisingly good at pretending. Playing to a crowd when he wants to. But he’s also stubborn. Unfailingly honest. Argumentative.”

“All true,” James says.

“Have you discovered his doll collection yet?” Alex asks.

I glance at him. The large Scotsman is looking at me with too-bright, too-innocent eyes. “No.”

“He can be shy about it, but it’s something to behold.”

West groans. “Not this again.”

“His middle name is Maude, too.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Has been since our first year at Belmont. We had him re-baptized. Didn’t we, James?”

James lifts his glass. “To Weston Maude Calloway Junior, the greatest of his line.”

I laugh and meet West’s exasperated gaze. Adrenaline is still flowing in my veins from the day, and from my second margarita of the night. “I didn’t know that! Would have been great to know when your sister quizzed us about middle names at family dinner.”

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