One Night Wife (The Confidence Game 1)

“Because she said so?” He rubbed his forehead. “I told you she was ruthless. I tried to warn you she was up to no good. All the visual clues where there.”

“You let her touch you.” God, she was raving.

He stepped closer. “You know when you were a kid if you didn’t want your sister to keep hassling you, you found the strength not to show she annoyed you because if you reacted, you gave her ammunition, and she’d keep doing whatever it was that was driving you mad. That’s Paris. The best way to handle her is give her nothing to feed off.”

Why did that sound incredibly sensible? He’d had his hands in his pockets when Paris was all over him. He hadn’t given permission either. She was burning and freezing; what was cold was savagery and what was hot was jealousy. “I thought—” If this was what being Cal’s fake girlfriend made her feel, she’d never survive a relationship with him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it clearer.”

Home was without Scungy and without Cal, without the retribution of burying Alex her own way. “I don’t know if I want to leave.”

She wanted to pretend the last fifteen minutes hadn’t happened. That she hadn’t overreacted and gotten inappropriately jealous, ignored warnings, been sexually assaulted in a room crowded by people who turned away and let it happen. “I’m furious.” That’s what the acid sear in her belly was.

“I should never have let you walk away.”

“It’s not your fault. I knew what I was doing. A woman getting a drink at a party shouldn’t be a dangerous thing. I don’t need a white knight, and you trying to take the blame doesn’t help.”

“It’s on me. I put you amongst people who come with a warning label. But you showed them who you are—a force to be reckoned with.”

“And why would I care about that?”

“Because after we’re done, you can go on. You won’t be dependent on me. Anyone who can handle Alex Astor can handle anything. You have a new calling card.”

“Like I’m your protégé and I passed a test? Tap, tap on my back, good girl. But that’s all I am, you’ve always been clear about that. I’m a joke to you, a One Night Wife.” That more than anything made her eyes sting. She was the only one confused about where she stood with Cal, about the fact his kisses and caresses were just a performance.

They were nothing, less than a diamond earring lost in the grass to him.

“It’s not clear to me any longer.” He pushed a hand through his hair, a soothing gesture. Why did Cal need soothing? “I want to tear that prick’s ribs open with my bare hands and feed him his own evil heart.” He folded his arms over his chest, self-protective. “I’m not supposed to feel this way about you, Fin.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Finley Cartwright.”

She turned towards the voice. Arguing with Cal was a waste of time. She’d never win with him; they were always on his turf, she was always at a disadvantage. Now, she had to deal with Paris.

“I heard about what happened with Alex and before you get defensive, I want to say I wish you’d hit him harder,” she said. “You’re not hurt?”

Fin shook her head. She didn’t understand what Paris was up to. She braced for the inevitable awfulness coming.

“Good. Yoga is at seven, by the main pool.” Paris poked a finger at Cal. “Admirable restraint. It’s kind of a poor show you didn’t hit him, but thank you, it would’ve really spoiled the official photos if you’d broken Alex’s face.”

Cal grunted a response, and Paris walked on, calling over her shoulder, “We’ll talk about your charity later, Fin. Alex and I will both make it up to you.”

She watched Paris go. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s all a game to them,” Cal said. “And the only way to survive is to create your own rules.”

“That’s what you do.”

He nodded. “You did it, too. You’re a save-yourself heroine.” He looked away. Cal self-conscious, dodging eye contact, was disorienting, and she was unsteady enough.

“Would you like me to take you home?” he asked.

“I’d like to walk on the beach.” And then, if she could get her insides to stop jittering, her stomach to stop rolling, and her head in the game, she had an appointment at seven to get some justice, make some money, and do some good in the world.

Chapter Eighteen

Fin walked toward the beach without waiting for him, but Cal wasn’t letting her out of his sight again until she was locked behind their bedroom door. He wanted to haul her back there now, check her all over for bruises, and put her to bed where she’d be safe.