Wicked Games (Fallen Royals Book 2)

Riley and I have been plotting. Not just about Caleb, but also about Savannah and Amelie. We’re operating under the assumption that both of them are the mystery texter, but it could be a lot of people.

Either way, the idea of upsetting the hierarchy at Emery-Rose is too tempting.

It’s not like either of us want to take over the queen bee position. We just want Amelie to suffer a little… and Sav, too.

“We can’t go easy on them,” I tell Riley. “Total annihilation.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Riley asks.

There are so many options. Rumors, public embarrassment, somehow turning them into social pariahs?

Imagine.

“What throne do the king and queen sit on?”

Something Amelie, Sav, and I had in common? We always knew how to push the buttons of every single person around us. It was a trait we first saw in Amelie in first grade, and later, it’s what made me a bad foster kid. Because even after I was taken from my home, I didn’t know how to stop that side of me.

After my third home, I learned.

“We go after them where it counts,” I say. “Friends. Sports.”

Riley groans. “You’re talking… like… destroy them. And what are they going to do in return?”

“Are they going to do anything worse than what they’ve already done?”

She just looks at me, and it conveys her thoughts.

I grimace. “Okay, so any takedown can’t directly involve us, unless we want to deal with their wrath. You make a good point.”

“Maybe we should just… wait.” She picks at a loose thread on her pants. “The worse we can be is rash.”

My phone buzzes.

Lenora

Robert had to work late, so I’m picking up dinner. Will be home around eight! Sorry for the L8 dinner!

I snort at her shorthand.

Me

Okay, take your time.

Riley has to go home, so we say goodbye at the door. I close and lock it, then turn my attention to the kitchen. I put the empty glasses in the dishwasher and run a wet rag across the island. Leaving a space how I found it was always one way of staying out of trouble.

Lenora gets home, and I help her unpack the bags of Chinese food. My stomach cramps, suddenly reminding me that besides the chips Riley and I had when we got here after school, I’ve had nothing since lunch.

We dig in without Robert, and once finished, I retreat upstairs.

I grab my backpack on the way up. I close my door and eye my cracked window. A cold breeze blows inside.

“Caleb?”

I pause, glancing around the room. The closet is halfway open, and the rest of the room is silent and still. He doesn’t emerge from any hiding place.

I cross the room and slam the window shut. If he’s not going to make himself known, then I may as well do homework.

Robert gets home a while later and comes upstairs, knocking on my door. “Did Appleton leave?”

“Yeah, she had to get home for dinner.”

He nods. “You need anything?”

“I’m good for now… and I need to catch up on this stuff.”

“All right, back to work then.” He taps the door, then closes me back in.

I look around the room, pulling my leg up to my chest. I wrap my arms around it and put my chin on my knee, closing my eyes for a minute. It isn’t that I want to take Amelie’s place. I just want her to realize how wrong she’s been.

She needs to fall… and Caleb does, too.

He’s been hoping to break me, and he took his best shot. But it just isn’t happening.

I’m strong. Maybe not in the normal sense of the word… and maybe I do cave to his demands sometimes.

But he hasn’t scared me off.

I’m not broken.

I close my books, turn off the light, and stretch out flat on the bed. It takes a long while for the energy to sap out of my muscles.

Sleep comes in small pieces, dragging me under and then waking me with a snap.

My mind swings from Isabella to Caleb, back and forth like a pendulum. I don’t know why she’s haunting my thoughts tonight, but I can’t get the ghost out of my mind. I let her marinate in my head for a while: a girl I’ve never met, will never meet, and can’t shake.

I wonder if she lived here. In this room.

Something taps my window.

I flinch, scrambling upright. I expect Caleb’s face to be staring back at me. Instead, there’s nothing except moonlight.

The tap comes again, harder, and I creep closer.

Three hours have passed. It’s midnight.

And Caleb stands below my window. His arm winds back, and he tosses something toward me.

A little pebble hits the glass.

I jerk open the window, sticking my head out.

“Come for a midnight stroll with me,” he says.

“Are you crazy?” I whisper-yell. “How?”

“You could sneak out the back door,” he says. “Or climb down…”

I roll my eyes. “No.”

He spreads his arms wide. “Come join me, Margo. Or I’ll join you.” The again is silent.

I swallow. One encounter at night is enough, thank you very much. Especially with Robert and Lenora just down the hall. They can probably hear our conversation.

“Five minutes.” He sticks his hands in his pockets. He wanders away, toward the street. His car is parked in front of a neighbor’s house.

I grimace. He taught me how to do this, didn’t he?

To do it or not.

Going back to bed—that would be the smart choice. Lock the window and the doors, hunker down. Avoid Caleb.

That would be letting him win, though. Past Margo would’ve let him come to her, just to prove that she didn’t feel the magnetic fucking allure of Caleb Asher.

No. No more intimidation. No more being forced into doing things in fear of fucked-up consequences. I’m making the choice to see what he wants.

I pull my boots on, silently cursing my resolve. Going down to meet Caleb isn’t giving in, right? His true victory would be if I didn’t.

Him stealing into my room, pressing me into the mattress…

Stop thinking about it, I order myself.

I grab my jacket and creep down to the back door. It squeaks the faintest amount, but then I’m through, and it closes silently. Through the mudroom. Outside. No way am I going to climb down the trellis when I don’t have to. If the door is locked when I get home, so be it.

A sensor light clicks on, illuminating the backyard, and I freeze. The light catches the first snow of the season falling around it.

They could think it’s anything, I reason. A raccoon, an owl.

Not their foster daughter.

I edge along the house, keeping to the shadows, until I spot Caleb.

He smirks at me, lifting himself off the hood of his car.

“What do you want?” I demand.

His smirk widens. “Couldn’t resist, huh?”

“I’d prefer you not be in my room,” I answer. “Although am I right to think you were there earlier?”

“You were busy,” he replies. “I got tired of waiting.”

He doesn’t look any the worse for wear, unfortunately. Full lips and eyes that pierce through me. He’s handsome. Devastatingly so.

No doubt his looks help his devilish agenda.

“For what I have planned, your room wouldn’t have sufficed.”

I swallow. It sounds ominous, and I realize how stupid I am to have come out here.

He pulls his hand out of his pocket and tosses something to me. I catch it on reflex, then glance down at the keys in my hand.

“What is this?”

“Car keys,” he says, like it’s obvious.

I mean, it is obvious that they’re his car keys. But why he would give them to me is anyone’s guess. I’m tempted to chuck them into the bushes behind us. That’d serve him right.

“Why?” I ask.

“Just get in the car, Margo.” He circles the car and slides into it without preamble.

Into the passenger seat.

I shake my head. He can’t be serious. A heavy feeling comes over my limbs, making it hard to open the driver’s door and lower myself into the car.

“Adjust the seat.”

When I don’t move, he leans over me and does it for me; a little button on the side slides the seat forward and up. His head is even with my breasts, but he doesn’t even glance at them.

“Put your foot on the brake and press this button.” He’s still close, his head tilted so he can meet my eyes. He takes the key fob from my hand and drops it into the cup holder.

I try not to inhale. The car smells like his cologne—the same scent in my bed. It’s familiar and distant at the same time. It carves a hollow space in my chest where my heart should be.

He sits back, watching me like this is just another fucking game.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because it’s cold out, and if we’re just going to sit here, I’d like to be warm.” He shrugs. “Your choice.”

That didn’t answer anything. I put my foot on the left pedal and press the button.

His hand snakes out, covering mine. “No need to hold it there. Gentle with this baby.”

I release the pressure, and the engine catches with a purr. Heat pours from the vents.

“A nighttime driving lesson,” I murmur. “Probably not the greatest place to start.”

He lifts his shoulder. “Even if we don’t go anywhere, I figured you’d be more comfortable in the driver’s seat.”

I keep my eyes on the dash. “Why?”

“Because you’re in control.”

A secret admission.

I tighten my grip. It’s confusing—one minute he’s brash, angry, spiteful. And the next he’s trying to get me to kiss him back and telling me I’m killing him, and giving me control…

Which version of Caleb is the truth?

“I can’t—” I grab the door handle. I need to get out of here and sort through my feelings on my own. Away from his influence.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he says. “But only tonight. Only if you stay.”

I twist toward him, shaking my head. “There’s always a catch.”

His gaze remains solemn. “No catch. Not tonight.”

I drop my hand into my lap and lean back, getting comfortable. I remind myself that this is my choice—even if it isn’t—and I can go back inside at any moment.

“Why did you mess with my previous foster homes?”

“I didn’t want you to be happy.” He appraises me. “When did you find out about…?”

“Well, Claire recognized you from the foster house we were at together, although she didn’t realize. And I figured you had to be behind some of the others.”

“All of the others,” he replies. “Minus the one where the guy hit you. I didn’t get a chance to report him before you were out of there.”

I shudder. I was thirteen, then. He’s been following me for that long?

Longer.

I roll my head to the side and look at him. Am I expecting to see something different? It’s no surprise that he’s already watching me. I don’t think he’s taken his eyes off of me.

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t been happy since you told.”

“Since I told? Told what?”

“Careful, Margo,” he murmurs. “I’ll tell you if you want to know. But there are some things you probably aren’t ready to hear.”

I press my lips together. “Was there a field of tall grass that we used to go play in?”

“Not that I remember. Just the park. Why?”

“I had a dream,” I say. “You and my mom were arguing. Maybe it wasn’t you, and it was your dad. It looked like you, though, but older. Mom got so mad, she threw a glass.”

“You were hiding outside.”

I blink at him. “That was real?”

“Yes. They argued sometimes. Chefs are known to have hot tempers… and my dad had one, too.” His expression darkens. “Not always, mind you. I think he was good to me. But if the right button was pushed…”

I take a breath.

“What else happened in the dream?” His fingers twitch on his thigh.

“Mom came into my room and shook me.”

He nods like that, too, is normal. Or real. “She held in a lot of anger until she couldn’t.”

“Because of something I did?”

Caleb’s lips part in slow motion, and I regret asking. He already gave me the warning that he would answer any question.

I lunge across the seat, slapping my hand over his lips. “Don’t answer. I don’t want to know.”

His lips move against my palm, and his eyes crease. A smile. Even if I can’t see it, I know it’s devious. He’s a wicked boy, playing wicked games with my heart.

Slowly, I remove my hand. I brush my thumb along his lower lip, and his smile fades. He doesn’t come toward me like he might’ve before. Something’s changed between us in just a few days.

“Kiss me.”

I shake my head. There are more questions, but right now, every beat of my heart is screaming at me to lean forward and touch him more. And every ounce of my brain begs me to run away.

The heart can only win so many times.

I fling the door open and jump out, running back toward the house. It’s easier to sneak in. I haven’t been gone long enough for them to come down and lock me out. I kick off my shoes and shed my jacket in the mudroom, then grab a glass of water—a plausible excuse if I’ve ever heard one.

And it’s a good thing, too, because Robert appears at the top of the stairs.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

I nod, plastering on a smile to hide my alarm.

“Yeah, I just woke up with a dry throat.” I lift the glass as evidence.

“Okay, honey.” He ambles away.

Back in my room, I scan it and close the door. Would I put it past Caleb to come in? Not in the slightest.

I cross to the window. His car is still there, idling. But as I watch, it pulls out onto the street and speeds away. I exhale and close my curtains, falling back into bed.

I can’t let Caleb suck me back to him.