Read His Wicked Games: A Billionaire Romance (The Cunningham Family #1) Page 21


  * * *

  At the designated time, I return to the foyer. I wish I could say I spent our hour apart doing something productive, but all I managed to do was change into dry clothes—jeans and a tank top, which seem a little more practical for hide and seek than another sundress—and fret about our impending game. Even now, I’m not sure I should have agreed to this. There’s still time to back out, to run back to my room and lock the door and end this madness before it begins.

  But refusing to play means giving up on the Center—or so I tell myself.

  I stand against the wall as I wait. Calder is late. I wonder a little about the business that took him away so urgently, but maybe it’s better that I don’t know. I suspect anything I learn about the way he handles his affairs will only make me angry, and right now I want to forget how much I hate him.

  I glance down at my phone. It’s ten minutes past the time we were supposed to meet. What if he changed his mind? What if he decided this was a stupid idea after all?

  The message icon is flashing in the corner of my phone’s screen. Garrett called again about an hour ago, and this time he left a voicemail. I considered calling him and reminding him to consult my dad with any questions or concerns, but I’m afraid that even that much of a response will only encourage him. I knew I was opening a big fat can of worms when I dialed his number, but I won’t fall into the trap of allowing open communication between us again.

  “Is something wrong?”

  I nearly drop my phone at the sound of Calder’s voice. He’s managed to sneak up on me while I’m standing here fretting about Garrett.

  “I’m fine,” I say, smiling up at him. No need to bother him over my crazy ex. “But you’re late.”

  “A terrible crime.” He takes my hand and brings it up to his lips. “Tell me, how do you plan on punishing me?”

  I disentangle myself before he gets me too worked up. I have a game to win.

  “We can worry about punishment later,” I say. “Right now, we have more important business.”

  His eyes darken. “Indeed.”

  I look down at my phone. “We should go ahead and set our alarms for an hour from now.”

  He pulls out his own cell and follows suit.

  “Set another for ten minutes from now,” he says. “So you’ll know when your head start is up.”

  “Just to be clear,” I say, determined to avoid any miscommunication this time around, “the game is over when the final alarm goes off, or when you catch me. Whichever happens first.”

  He nods. “Correct.”

  “I think we should define what constitutes a capture,” I say. “It’s not enough to spot me across a room or a hallway right before the alarm goes off.”

  He smiles. “You mean that I’m required to have you in my possession.”

  The way he says that final word sends a tiny thrill through me.

  “You at least have to touch me,” I say.

  “I’ll touch you any way you like,” he says, a gleam of amusement in his eye. “But yes, I think it’s a fair rule.”

  I nod. That’s settled, at least.

  “Anything else we should go over?” I ask. “Anywhere in the house that’s off limits?”

  “I know better than to answer that,” he says, “or you’ll head straight there.” He glances down at his phone, then back at me. “And I’m willing to discuss whatever else you want, but I think it’s only fair to point out that your ten minutes are ticking away very quickly.”

  Shit. I twist away from him, but not before catching the devilish anticipation that sweeps across his face. The asshole thinks he’s won already.

  I run to the nearest door. I have no idea where it leads, but there isn’t time to stop and consider. This is my final shot to win back our money. I need to win.

  “Don’t worry,” he calls after me. “You’ll enjoy the night I have planned for you.”

  That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

  CHAPTER TWELVE