His Wicked Games (His Wicked Games #1) by Ember Casey Read Free Book Online

very often,” he admits.
“But I think it gives the place character. When I was younger, my
sister and I used to have epic games of hide and seek.”
    “That sounds like something out of a book,” I
say. “Did you ever find Narnia?”
    He lets out a laugh at that—a belly laugh,
not one of the smug chuckles he's been sending my way all
evening.
    “No Narnia,” he says. “But if there were any
magical passages in this place, they wouldn't be inside. They'd be
out in the maze.”
    I nearly trip over my own feet. “You have a
maze?”
    “The fourth-largest hedge maze in North
America, last I heard.”
    Whoa . That’s serious. Secret
passageways and a hedge maze? Under any other circumstances,
I would be delighted. This place is absolutely fascinating—no
wonder the family has always been so weird about letting the press
have a peek. If you share the secrets of a house like this with the
world, they lose some of their luster. I'm not too proud to admit
that I'm in a privileged position here, getting to look around.
Calder is even offering me a full-out tour.
    But thoughts of the Center creep in again,
and now all I can see is the elaborate excess. If you can afford to
maintain a hedge maze, is it really such a huge thing to fulfill
your pledge to a small nonprofit organization?
    Calder seems to sense the sudden change in my
enthusiasm.
    “If you change your mind,” he says, “you can
contact me through the electronic tablet mounted on the wall next
to your bed. I should be up for a while yet.”
    I nod, but now that I’ve remembered my reason
for coming here in the first place, I'm no longer particularly
interested in his dungeons and his mazes. By the time we reach the
bedroom I used earlier, I'm no longer sure what to say to him.
    Fortunately, he takes the lead.
    “I'm very sorry things have been so…
contentious between us. I think, under different circumstances, you
and I might get along very well.”
    You mean circumstances where you don't
screw over the Center? I think, Or just circumstances where
I actually succumb to your advances? I don't voice the question
aloud.
    He's studying my face.
    “I'm not a terrible person,” he says finally.
“We all must make difficult choices sometimes.”
    Of course , I tell myself. Whether
to honor your family’s pledge or pay for your next European jaunt
is an extremely difficult decision. I shift my weight from one
foot to the other.
    His dark eyes are boring into me. It makes my
skin go hot, then cold. I really wish I knew what was going on in
his head. I suspect he's stalling, testing the waters, looking for
some hint of attraction or consent in my expression. Will he
proposition me outright again? Or is he the type to grab me and
kiss me without warning, and just bank on the fact that most women
melt under his warm, soft lips? The image sends a strange tickling
sensation across my skin, and I break his gaze. My heart is
thumping madly in my chest, but I tell myself it's nerves from the
awkwardness of the situation.
    “Goodnight,” I say, before this scene spins
out of control.
    “Goodnight, Ms. Frazer,” he says. “As I
mentioned before, I'll be up for a while, should you change the
mind about the tour.”
    “I don't think I will. I'm really very
tired.”
    He nods, and I reach for the doorknob. He
makes no move for me as I retreat into the bedroom, and it's only
after I shut and lock the door behind me that I let out a sigh of
relief.
    That was close.
    I'll admit, a part of me is surprised he
didn't try anything else. He was so blunt and open over dinner.
Maybe he’s finally accepted that I’m not going to jump into bed
with him. Or maybe he changed his mind about jumping into bed with
me.
    There's a pang in my stomach at that thought,
and I tell myself it’s only bruised pride. Why do I care if he hits
on me or not? I don't want him, and I certainly won't be climbing
into bed with him anytime soon. Sure, he’s not completely unappealing from a