Page 12 of The Wishing Game

"That's a good idea. If we go west, it's less than a couple of hours."

"Oh my God, Nikki. I can't wait to see it. I've only seen it in movies, and I'm so curious if it's as huge as it seems on the screen."

"It is." He smiles fondly. "I went there once with my parents, and it was breathtaking."

"You rarely talk about them."

"It's hard to talk about them and not miss them." He sighs. "They were the best parents anyone could have asked for. Even though they were running a billion-dollar enterprise, they always made time for me."

"I'm happy to hear that. I wish I had that too, but I don't even know who my father is." I give a bitter laugh.

My mother had only told me he was agringoand that he'd left after I was conceived, never to be heard from again.

"Do you want to know who he is?" Nikki suddenly asks. "I'm sure if we hire the right people, we might be able to find out."

"No." I shake my head. "That part of my past is better left alone."

I don't tell him, however, that I'm pretty sure he'd been one of my mother's clients. After all, I'd never told anyone that she used to sell her body for money, and that was how she managed to bring me up until I was thirteen, when she couldn't afford to feed two mouths anymore and decided to sell me to Sergio.

I'm not sure why I haven't shared much of my past life with Nikki when I've shared everything else with him. Maybe it's the fact that I'm a little ashamed of where I came from and how different our upbringings were. Or maybe, it's just my own failing and the fact that I don't think I ever forgave my mother for selling me.

And to divert his attention from this topic, I play some music, inviting him to sing along with me.

He shakes his head at me initially, but eventually, he relents and joins me in an impromptu karaoke session. Quite fittingly, we're singing Bon Jovi's "It's My Life", and for the first time, there's actual meaning behind the words.

We're finally taking charge of our lives.

"I thought you said our security detail is keeping a distance," I say suddenly as I notice a car trailing behind us.

"They are." He frowns, pulling up the rear camera on the screen. "That's not our security detail."

"They've been following us for a while," I add, worry gnawing at me.

"Let's see." Nikki mutters a few curses under his breath, and at the first opportunity, he turns the RV around. The other car, however, breezes right past us.

I breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Have we become a little too paranoid?" I attempt to make light of the situation.

Nikki doesn't find it funny, though. Turning the car around so we're back en route, he rummages through one of the compartments and takes out his pills. Instinctively, I give him a water bottle. He swallows the pill and takes a sip of water.

"Is it bad?" I ask in a soft voice. I can see the car rattled him. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

He's tense, the veins in his arms bulging as he grips the steering wheel tightly.

"I'll be fine," he bites out, but his demeanor tells me he's not fine.

"Maybe we should pull over," I suggest.

He shakes his head.

"I said I'm fine, Luce," he repeats, his breathing growing more labored.

God, I really shouldn't have said anything. Just the mention that someone might be following us triggered something in him—and given his past, I don't blame him.

"You can admit if you're not fine, Nikki. I don't care if we have to cut this short..."

"Luce." He takes a deep breath, turning toward me. His eyes are wholly black, his intense gaze swallowing me up. "I'mfine," he grits out. Sweat beads on his forehead, his hands trembling slightly.

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