Page 164 of Carnal Games

The brand-new camera and microphone sit like heavy lead in my purse, taunting me. The moment I put them on, I’ll be shattering Kian’s trust and privacy. The two most important things to him.

At the same time, I can’t show up empty-handed to Harshita. Before I left, I signed a contract, along with the offer letter, detailing my job in the case.

The phone vibrating in my purse jerks me out of my dilemma. Scary Reaper is flashing on the screen when I pull it out.

Shit.

I hesitate in picking up, afraid my voice will give my guilt away. Not wanting to upset him, I take a deep breath and swipe right.

“Hey, Kia—”

“Where are you?” His hard tone fills my ears. “I’m at your office. The guard said you left on your own.”

“But I didn’t call you to pick me up.”

“Exactly. I’m tempted to turn your ass red for disobeying me,” he admonishes, before demanding, “now, where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

“In a cab,” I quietly answer. “On my way home.”

“You better have an explanation as to why you didn’t wait for me by the time I get there, rainbow.” He hangs up, leaving my heart thumping like a roller coaster against my ribs.

A block away from my street, I ask the driver, “Just drop me here.”

Once he parks to the side, I slip out and pay the fare. Stepping onto the sidewalk, I walk the rest of the way. Walkinghelps clear my head. I’m stuck in an impossible situation where I can’t talk to anyone, not even my best friends. How sad is that?

As excited as I was when I first received the opportunity to have this assignment, I’m also realizing all its drawbacks. The sacrifices and the secrecy. I have the same name, but I’m living a double life with no end in sight. I need someone to confide in. I’m sick of bottling up everything inside.

Halfway to the apartment high-rise, I stop at a convenience store and buy a strawberry-flavored ice-cream cone.

My phone rings again as I resume walking home. My gait falters, seeing it’s my fake fiancé. “Nathan?”

“Hey, Iris,” he softly says. “Missed your voice.”

“Hii,” I hum.

He instantly picks up on my tone. “You sound dull. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Iris,” he sighs. “I can always tell when your mood is off. Talk to me.”

The concern and softness in his tone take me back to the time we sat on the bench and chatted. He sounds like the same guy, waiting patiently to listen to my problems.

“I know I’ve become busy over the years, but I’m here for you. I’m still the same me,” he murmurs, then jokes, “I wish I could say a lot wiser but…”

I chuckle. “I’m having ice cream on the sidewalk. Listening to your voice, it’s like no time has passed.”

“Strawberry?”

Licking the melting ice cream, I drawl, “Yep.”

“I’m stuck with wine.”

“Order room service.”

“Nah. Will take too long.” I hear ruffling on his end before he says, “Imagine I’m there and tell me what’s troubling you.”

Where do I start?

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