Page 27 of Wild Card

Eventually it would bite me in the ass, but I was hoping to have my article finished first. The only problem was that I didn’t have enough information. I needed more answers in order to form a full opinion piece.

I was pulling into my small driveway, celebrating the fact that I’d beaten Taylor home for once, when I noticed a truck rolling past our house going slower than normal. It was already dark out, and since I hadn’t been home all day, there weren’t any lights on outside. The thing about my father getting Taylor and me the townhouse was we both knew the units on either side of ours were occupied by his security teams. We weren’t idiots; we knew if anyone found out who we were or who we were connected to, we’d have problems. So, this arrangement allowed us some semblance of normalcy while maintaining the image that we were just two regular girls going to college.

Not wanting to deal with whatever was happening with the slow-moving truck, I decided I’d risk the hoarder’s nest of a garage. The truck that had gone past had just done a U-turn when I ran under the half-lifted garage door. I dodged two piles of magazines and a treadmill when I finally made it to the wall and slammed my hand down on the button to close the door. It was probably just a DoorDash delivery person looking for the right house, but it still freaked me out, and if anything nefarious were to happen, my dad would get his way and force Taylor and me back home, living with him.

Not many people knew who my dad was, nor did they know about Taylor’s connection to him. It helped that I lived like a pauper, not landing on anyone’s radar around school. So far, no one had connected me to the millionaire.

Letting out a sigh, I heaved my purse and bookbag into the small laundry space beside the garage door and toed off my shoes. I rarely got the house to myself, so the fact that it was still dark and there was no sign of Taylor had me nearly jumping for joy. How long would this last?

I started listing things I was going to do. Firstly, a bath with music…ooh, and candles. I started stripping. My socks came off first then I undid the button of my jeans, and just as I began jumping out of the left pant leg, the doorbell rang.

Fuck.

Suddenly, I remembered the truck, and the tiny hairs on my arms and neck stood on end. The house was still dark; maybe I didn’t have to answer.

Another ring echoed throughout the house. Curiosity would hound me all fucking night if I didn’t just see who was on the other side of that door. Suddenly, I knew why all those girls always died so fast in horror flicks. I knew, and still I walked to the door.

I flicked the porch light on and carefully cracked the entrance, hiding my body and the fact that I was currently pants-less. Eyebrows shooting up, eyes widening, I could do nothing at all to keep the shock off my face…because what the actual fuck?

“Hey…uh…” The man who’d kicked me out of his bedroom then scolded me about walking in the parking lot the other night had an expression that seemed to mirror my own.

His sexy smirk died quickly as he sized me up. My eyes hopefully shimmered with hate and not lust as I took in that sharp jawline, those high cheekbones, and those dark mossy eyes hidden under the bill of a dark Devils hat. Why did he have to look so good? How was that even remotely fair? My thoughts quickly sobered as he tipped his head just the slightest bit, and I noticed the way his eyes narrowed on me, as if I had yet again ruined something for him.

“What are you doing here…?” If his voice had been a whip, I’d have been on the floor bleeding. His eyes narrowed further, nearly slits as they moved to the emptiness behind me.

My heart sank into my chest, down, down, down. Why, for even one tiny second, had I thought he was here to see me? I hated that subconsciously I had tethered myself to the idea. He was an asshole, and I wasn’t the type to cater to those…but there was something about him. Something about that night, the way he watched me before he touched me, like every place he pressed his fingers to was calculated and measured. The way his lips felt fevered on my skin, the way his tongue lavished me, like I was a delicacy…something sacred…

“Isn’t this where Taylor Beck lives?” He stepped back a foot or two to catch the numbers on the side of the house. His words were a bucket of ice water, bringing me back into the moment.

Hurt slithered in between my ribs, stupidly…so, so stupidly.

“I…uh…” I cleared my throat, hating the burn behind my eyes. A whisper of lust brushed against my core, remembering those eyes that night…but it was all fake. All for Taylor.

“Why would I give you that information?” I crossed my arms, deciding we’d go a different route.

My heart thrashed to protect, protect, protect.

Elias looked behind him at the street, where his truck was parked. It was the same one he’d bent down to inspect that night in the parking lot, but I hadn’t even noticed it when he drove down my road.

“Maybe I’ll come back later.”

His boot scuffed against the concrete near our welcome mat. His head dipped, but instead of turning around, he lingered.

“Why are you…what…” His questions died on his tongue as he slowly lifted those eyes. They stared at my pink toenails then slowly moseyed up my body like suddenly they’d grown phantom fingers, raking over my skin and hair like he wanted to touch me. I noticed his hands clench at his sides.

“What do you want with my stepsister?” I was tired of the questions, and I didn’t want him to come back to ask them.

“Stepsister?” He choked on the word, running his left hand over the side of his face.

He had a day’s worth of scruff on his jaw, more than the night his face had pressed against my skin.

“Yeah, what do you want with her?”

My heart thundered as I waited for him to confirm that he wanted to date her or fuck her.

“It’s a business thing,” he muttered, taking a step back.

Relief sailed through me. I tried to tamp it down because he still wanted her, not me, but I could still feel it billowing inside.

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