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

hear?”
    “Of course. Love you.”
    “Love you, too.”
    We hang up and I toss my phone on the
nightstand. We’re going to get through this, he and I. We have
to.
    I don’t really feel like sleeping now, for
all that I told Calder I was tired. I toss and turn for a little
while, but I know it’s a lost cause. Finally I throw off the
comforter and climb out of bed. I'm too restless to keep lying
here.
    I begin to pace around the room, determined
to wear myself out. There are plenty of ways to distract myself in
here, at least. For a few minutes I stand by the window, trying to
spot the hedge maze through the dark and rain, but I don't see
anything. Next I wander back into the closet and peruse the
electronic directory, looking for the most ridiculous outfit I can
find, but I get bored with that pretty quickly.
    Which leaves me with only one option: to
search for secret doors.
    I mean, how often do you find yourself in a
house with hidden passages in the walls? Assuming Calder wasn't
pulling my leg, of course. I'm one of only a handful of people who
will ever get to see the inside of this place; it's my public duty
to explore the possibility of secret passageways. Or so my
exhausted, sleep-deprived mind tells me.
    I start at the main door and work my way
around the room. I find a flat screen television hidden behind a
mirror and a mini-fridge behind a panel near the bathroom.
Apparently rich people like to hide their conveniences behind
expensive decorative items. But I find no doors in the walls, nor
any buttons or levers hidden under shelves or behind lamps. I spend
a while at the electronic tablet next to the bed, but though I
discover a radio, house directory, and even a weather-reporting
application among its options, there's no magic “open sesame”
button.
    I come to the elaborate fireplace last. If
this were a fantasy or kid's cartoon, the fireplace would be the
key. The carved stone mantel is ridiculously ornate; all it should
take is the right amount of pressure on the right decorative leaf
and a doorway will open up behind the gas logs. I've seen it a
hundred times.
    I work my way from right to left along the
mantel, pushing and prodding every bit of stone. Nothing moves.
When I've poked at every leaf and twist of vine, I go back in the
opposite direction, trying everything again. Just in case.
    Nothing happens.
    I'll admit it—I’m a little disappointed. If
there are actually secret passageways in this house, none of them
appear to start in this room. I step away from the mantel, and in
the process I trip over the rack with the fireplace poker.
    “Mother fuc—”
    I break off my curse when I hear the scrape
of wood and stone behind me. I stand and turn.
    You cannot be fucking serious.
    A portion of the wall has swung inward,
revealing a dark hallway beyond. A secret passageway. An actual
secret-fucking-passageway. Calder wasn't lying after all.
    I walk over and peer inside. The corridor is
pitch black. I can't tell how long it is or which direction it
ultimately leads.
    But dark or not, there's no way I'm not going
exploring.
    I run back to the bed and grab my cell from
the nightstand. Hopefully the light from its screen will be enough
to keep me from falling and breaking my neck.
    I can't believe I'm actually doing
this , I think. But then again, I never expected to break onto
the Cunninghams' property or wear their clothes or eat their food.
I never expected to sleep in one of their giant, fluffy beds.
    No turning back now , I tell
myself.
    I hit a button on my phone to bring the
screen to life, and then I step into the darkness of the
passage.
     
    <<>>

CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    I move slowly along the passage, the phone
held out in front of me. The faint blue glow from the screen is
just enough to keep me from walking into the walls. The corridor
twists and turns ahead of me, and after five minutes I've already
completely lost my bearings. I have no idea which direction I'm
going or where I might end up.