of paying my dues and working my ass off.
He interrupts, the suspicion coming back to his gaze. “An actress?”
“An actress and an archeology assistant,” I correct him. “A weird combination, I know, but somehow, it works for me.”
I pause, a thought occurring to me for the first time. “I think I just disappear into both roles, into the past and into someone else. I never have to just be . . . me.”
My breath stutters, that idea resonating deep inside and taking root. I thought I’d been growing, blooming where I was planted like some cheesy home décor plaque, but what if instead, I’m just a seed on the wind, blowing this way and that, always trying to find some semblance of steadiness to be myself?
It’s a dark thought, cutting to my core. But now’s not the time to delve into that clusterfuck. Maybe later, when I’m alone and can pry at the edges without an audience to see me analyze my own weird psyche.
For now, I need to focus because Nathan is looking at me like I just bared my soul. Maybe I did.
Almost as if he can sense my desire to leave the subject alone, he dissects the answer with surgical precision. “What’s wrong with being you?”
“Dangerous question. I could go on and on, but the real truth is, probably nothing. Just not that sweet little princess people expect me to be.” I throw his own words back at him, wanting him to know that they hurt.
He grins a small smile and lets it drop for now. “Touché. I’d bet you’re nothing like people expect in a lot of ways.” This time, it sounds like a compliment, and I flush with heat.
The moment freezes, and though I’m fully dressed, I feel completely naked when his eyes lock on mine. He reaches out, slipping a lock of hair behind my ear and then placing his hand firmly on the back of my neck to pull me toward him.
I think he’s going to kiss me, but at the last moment, with my lips already parted in anticipation, he veers to the side and whispers hotly in my ear,
“Emma Daniels, I think you are exactly who and what you are supposed to be.”
My name on his lips makes my body purr, but the reassurance is something I didn’t realize I needed.
His pulls back and then, finally, his lips touch mine. He’s gentle this time, hesitant like he’s getting to know me for the first time. Maybe he is now that there’s more truth between us.
I kiss him back, just as softly, wanting to know his truths too. All of them.
Not for Claire and not for Anna. For me.
Which is a scary thought, and so wrong when there are questions looming over him about what part he played in Anna’s death.
His hands slip to my jaw, cupping my face as his fingers delve into my hair.
“I’d like to see you tomorrow.”
It’s not a question but an order. And with the doubts flashing through my mind, I know I need to back away from this.
For my own safety. For Nathan’s too.
Because I can already feel that I’m torn between wanting to know the truth for Claire and hoping I can just pretend nothing bad had ever happened in Nathan’s past. Maybe, killer or not, he can just be someone else for me. The same way I am someone else on stage.
“I can’t,” I rasp reluctantly, my voice thick with desire and torn with hurt at the denial, not just for him but for me. “I have work and rehearsals. I’m not just at your beck and call whenever you want a date. Maybe call Mostest Hostesses if you need someone to accompany you somewhere?”
It’s a rude thing to say, especially when the smart thing to do would be to never mention Mostest Hostesses again. But it serves my purpose, driving a jagged wedge between us.
His voice is icy and hard, dominance laced through it like a drug. “It wasn’t a request, Emma.” He shakes his head, trying again. “This dinner with Nikolai is still coming, and we need to be prepared. We made some good progress tonight, but this could be dire for both of us. Failure simply isn’t an option.”
I hate it, but he’s right.
I nod, agreeing.
Though I don’t know who I’m doing it for.
Chapter 11
Carly
I haven’t seen him in almost a week. Not at Strega’s, not at my shows, not even around town. I considered that maybe he’d moved on. Transient