“You haven’t even heard where I’m going,” he teases, playing with my hair. “It could be to study banking practices in Eastern Europe.”
I force out a small laugh but honestly, that sounds incredible. Good luck for me ever getting my arse over to Europe, either side.
“Where are you going, then?”
“I thought Tahiti would be nice for a week or two. They’ve got these cabins that sit out over the water so you can watch the fish swimming right underneath you.”
He leans over and snags a brochure, the photos showing a heaven on earth scenario that grows more decadent with each turn of the page.
“It looks fantastic.”
“I hoped you’d like it. Would you like to come with me?”
I try hard not to let my body tense, but my attempt at control fails so badly that I may as well not have tried at all.
“Didn’t realise the thought of a holiday was that upsetting.” He strokes the hairs back from my forehead, pressing a kiss to my injury. Disgustingly gentle. I’d almost rather he was rough. At least that would explain my tension.
“I have school.”
“Hm. You had school yesterday, but you still bunked off last period. Hardly the sign of someone who’s desperate not to miss class.”
The tag end of his sentence turns into mumbles as a loud ringing sounds in my head. He knows I skipped my last class. How? Does he really have spies everywhere? My gut ties into knots.
“I wasn’t feeling well,” I blurt out in explanation, my cheeks burning. Lying to Wilbur has always been hard, even when it’s a half-truth like now. “That’s when I hurt my head.”
“When you banged into a locker.”
At least this is safer ground. “That’s right.”
“Because you’re so clumsy.”
I hate the way he pushes back at me. Not asking. Not accusing. Just throwing my own explanations in my face until I weaken and admit something wrong. Even if there’s nothing to admit. My mouth babbling anything just to get rid of the scrutiny.
All I omitted from the story was that a fellow pupil pushed me. It’s hardly a reason for my face to blush and my heartrate to climb and my mouth to tremble.
Except it is.
But only because if I talk about the bullying at school, that will lead straight back to Caylon. Straight into trouble.
“That’s right.”
His arm tightens around my waist, but not unpleasantly. “You’ll have to watch your balance on holiday. If you take a tumble there, you’ll fall straight into the sea.”
“I can’t go overseas with you. My mother would never allow it.” My face burns red as I say the words. I could probably go overseas for a month before she noticed I wasn’t hanging around home as much as normal. A fact he knows as well as I do.
Instead of calling me on it, he takes another tack. “You’re eighteen. There’s no need to get your mother involved.”
Panic paces around my brain, keeping a close eye on developments. “I don’t have a passport.”
“You have a driver’s licence,” he says with the casual tone of someone used to sorting out problems. “If you don’t have a friend who can fill out the questionnaire, then someone here will verify your photograph. It only takes an hour to fill out the form. Less than a week to get it back.”
I tense as the trap tightens. “I’m not good in the heat.” Such a liar. “It’s a lovely offer but you should take one of your other girls.”
There’s a long silence. The arm around my waist loosens and a second later he rolls me over to face him. He’s propped on his elbow, face only inches away as he stares at me, his eyes cutting with more than their usual intensity.
When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, mildly perplexed. “What other girls are these?”
I frown, not understanding the obfuscation. It’s not like I care. “Your other appointments.” His frown deepens but I don’t know another polite way to say it. “The other girls you have on the days when I’m not here.” Still nothing. “When you hired me, you said you had other appointments.”
