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

physical point of view, but there's more to a
person than his looks. He's an ass, and he's personally responsible
for the financial struggles of the Center. That’s reason enough to
stay away.
    There’s no reason to trouble myself about it
any longer.
    I'm not really that tired, but now that I’m
here, I'll admit I'm more than a little excited to try out that
awesome four-poster bed. It takes me about two minutes to find a
set of pajamas in the enormous closet, and once I'm changed I waste
no time before diving headfirst into that glorious pile of
comforter and throw pillows.
    It's as heavenly as it looks.
    I let out a sound of contentment and tug the
fluffy white comforter around me. Maybe the trip out here wasn't
just a waste after all. This is absolutely glorious. I’d sell
everything else in my apartment if I thought I could manage enough
money to recreate the experience of this bed.
    But the thought of finances brings my mood
down again. I can't truly enjoy anything in this place while the
Center struggles. It feels like a betrayal. I'd love to have a bed
like this, but I'd give it up a hundred times over for a chance to
save the Center.
    There are a lot of other sacrifices I’d make
for us, too.
    I roll over and grab my phone from the
bedside table. My finger clicks through my contacts. After a
moment, I reach an entry named “Do Not Answer: Dipshit,” and my
thumb hovers over the call button. My dad's been begging me for two
months to call my ex-boyfriend, but I've resisted every time.
    I've told myself I'm being strong, but I
wonder now if I'm only being selfish. I keep telling myself I'll do
anything for the Center—hell, I've broken onto the Cunningham
estate—but that's not the truth. Am I really willing to sacrifice
the Center because I’m afraid to talk to Garrett? Because I’m
trying to avoid an uncomfortable situation? Does my ex really hold
that much power over me still?
    You don't know that he'll be able to do
anything , I tell myself. He's a great salesman, but that
doesn't mean he'll be able to succeed where you and your dad have
already failed.
    So what if our donation numbers were through
the roof when he volunteered with us? I know firsthand how
convincing he can be when he turns on the charm. Dad used to say
that Garrett could “sell green cheese to a moon man.” But a part of
me still refuses to believe that he’s the only one who can get us
out of this mess.
    Besides, I tell myself, you don't
even know that he'll agree to help you at all.
    I don't have to make this decision tonight.
One more day won't change the Center's situation.
    Instead I click back through the contacts and
call my dad instead.
    “Hey, sweetheart,” he says when he picks up.
“Any news?”
    I try not to notice the desperate hope in his
voice.
    “Not yet, I’m afraid,” I say carefully. “But
I’m still working on it.” I feel terrible lying to him like this,
but he’d be so upset if he knew the truth. I can’t bear to add even
that much stress on top of what he’s already dealing with.
    “You’re still out there?” he says. “At this
hour?”
    I find a loose thread along the edge of the
comforter and twist it around my finger.
    “That’s what I’ve called to tell you,” I say.
“The weather’s really bad and the roads flooded. I’m not going to
be able to make it home tonight.”
    He immediately switches from over-worked
director into over-protective Dad mode.
    “Are you all right? Do you have somewhere to
stay? Is the car okay?”
    I give a small smile at his concern.
    “I’m fine,” I assure him. “The car, too. I’ll
try to finish up here in the morning and come straight home after
that.”
    “Are you sure you’re all right? You sound…
stressed.”
    Even though he’s already struggling with so
much, he’s still concerned about me. It makes me feel even
worse.
    “I’m just tired,” I tell him. “I’m fine,
really.”
    “Okay, sweetheart,” he says. “Get some rest,
you