The Wicked Trilogy: Caleb & Margo (Fallen Royals #1-3), page 78
“Toying with her? Your little game, walking into class with her on your arm—” I shake my head. “I’d bet you didn’t tell her your ulterior motives.”
“What, that you weren’t the only one who needed a push?” He smirks. “No, I didn’t mention it.”
“So shut your fat mouth, then,” I grumble. “We all have secrets.”
“What’s your mom say?”
I eye him. “She’s indifferent.”
Theo grunts.
“For now,” I allow.
Eli and Liam race up the stairs.
“Can we borrow your car?” Liam asks me.
“No.”
“Caleb—”
“No.”
Theo snorts. “What’d you forget?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Theo answers. “A tie? Corsage?”
“Dress shoes,” Liam mutters.
I snicker. “Dumb fucker.”
“If Theo hadn’t given me a ride—”
“Eli can take you,” I suggest, looking at my housemate. I give him a wide smile. He’s been getting on my nerves lately. Too much energy. “He probably forgot something, too.”
“Dick,” Eli says. He shifts. “But I did get toothpaste on my tie—”
Theo laughs.
I turn back to the window. Liam and Eli give me a headache sometimes. But there’s no one I’d rather be around…
Except Margo.
The thought comes out of nowhere and knocks the wind out of my sails. It’s no secret that I’ve let myself become fixated on Margo. But maybe the obsession runs deeper than I care to admit.
“You okay?” Theo asks.
I spin around in time to catch the lacrosse ball flying my way. I snag it before it can bounce off my nose.
“We’ve got an hour. Let’s work on our passes,” he suggests.
I shrug, but I’m grateful for the distraction. We grab our lacrosse sticks—Theo keeps his in his trunk for moments like this, and mine is in my room—and spread out across Eli’s backyard. His first pass is solid. I grin at him, the weight of the stick in my hand comfortable and familiar. We’re good at this. I throw it back harder.
It clears my mind.
“Uncle David called,” I say mid-throw.
Theo barely catches it. It was wide, just outside of his reach. Not a good excuse.
He cradles the ball and squints at me. “You avoid him like the plague.”
“When I can get away with it.”
He snaps it back to me. “What’d he want?”
“Nothing good,” I mutter.
Just wondering where your priorities are. Like I needed reminding.
I know where my priorities are, thank you very much.
Eli and Liam return and join us, and we spend the afternoon like that. We play a two-on-two game, although Liam warns me not to tackle anyone.
I grin, promising to save my sliding tackles for the opponent—or Ian.
The sun dips low in the sky, and Eli calls an end to the game. There’s a new feeling in the air, or maybe it’s just me. My thoughts curve away from my friends, flashing down dark roads, until I land on Margo.
Her bag is in Eli’s car. I already dug through it once she was gone, morbidly curious to see what she would bring to wear tonight. The foster system must’ve shaped her into a light packer, because she didn’t bring much of anything.
A t-shirt and leggings, clean underwear. Toiletries. She didn’t bring any makeup, though. Just a hairbrush with dark strands still caught in its teeth, toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant, facewash.
Something twisted in my chest.
I’m still trying to decide if it was a good or bad thing.
Once we’re ready—showered and hair combed, suits on—Theo and Liam pile into Theo’s car and I slide into mine. Eli will grab me from the hotel after we check in, then we’ll head to meet the girls.
Finally, finally, we get to the Jenkins’s house.
I pocket the small box with the bracelet in it and grimace at the expression on Eli’s face.
“What?”
“I know what you’re doing.” Eli drums his hands on the steering wheel, looking up at Margo’s window.
There’s a flash of movement against the glass.
“What’s that?” I ask, keeping my voice level.
What is it with my friends trying to pry into my life lately? Eli and I have been best friends since middle school. He knows me and my interest in Margo just as I am aware of his fixation on Riley.
He shoots me a look. “You’re playing with your food.”
Hmm.
I shake my head and get out of the truck. Soon, I’ll be alone with Margo. But until then—pleasantries.
Lenora smiles when she sees us. “Oh, you two are so handsome!”
I shouldn’t expect Margo to rush down the stairs, but I do. And I’m a little disappointed when she doesn’t.
Eli shifts. “Where are the girls?”
“Finishing up,” Lenora answers.
Robert hands both of us glasses of water, winking. He says something and Eli answers, but I couldn’t tell you what they said. My attention wanders around the house.
I pause next to a picture of Josie, the Jenkins’ daughter. I doubt Margo has realized that this house is still a shrine to Josie Jenkins. There are pictures of her everywhere.
“Want me to go first?” Riley asks Margo at the top of the stairs.
I straighten, twisting toward her voice. I’m more eager to see Margo than I’d care to admit.
Across the room, Eli snaps to attention.
It’s cute how smitten he is, but I’m not sure Riley is aware of his ghosts. If she isn’t, she soon will be.
She appears on the stairs in a slinky black dress. It’s ostentatious, but one glance at Eli, and I realize he has a differing opinion. He’s practically drooling.
“Where’s Margo?” I ask, breaking their staring contest.
Riley shoots me a look. “Oh, she’s coming.”
And you’ll be in trouble, she doesn’t say.
I turn my attention back to the stairs. The top step creaks. I move closer, holding my breath.
Margo steps onto the landing, and my lungs stop working. It isn’t the dress—which is beautiful, the exact shade of blue I had been hoping for—it’s the look on her face. The lipstick accentuating her full lips. Her eyes, wide and dark.
The possessiveness I’ve been fighting crawls up my throat.
I hold my hand out for her, smirking when she slips it into mine. She can’t stop staring at me, her gaze moving down my body and then back up.
I lean forward, my lips crazing her ear. “You’re stunning.” It’s a compliment just for her—not for her foster parents behind us, or our friends. Just her. “And later, I’m going to fuck you senseless in your dress.”
The blush that rises to her cheeks is priceless.
I had put our masks—still in their boxes—on the table when we first arrived. As I pick it up and hand it to her, I try to shove away thoughts of my uncle’s fingers on her mask. Tainting it.
She lifts the lid. Her eyes widen. She traces it with a finger, then looks up at me. Her lips part, but no words come out.
I think that means she likes it.
Sometimes it’s easy to read the thoughts in Margo’s head based on the expression on her face. She’s always been an open book. There are moments when I second guess myself… like now. When I go out on a fucking limb like this.
“And yours?” she asks.
I show her.
The smile flickers across her face.
Lenora claps, drawing our attention. I barely hear a word of it, because I can’t stop staring at Margo.
Dutifully, we take pictures. I keep my hand pressed to the small of Margo’s back, enjoying her occasional shiver. The dress is backless. Sexy. If I wasn’t sure I’d already scared away every guy in school, I’d be anxious for tonight.
But surprisingly, I’m ready to enjoy it.
And there’s still one more surprise.
Picture after picture, we smile. Masks on, masks off. I focus on the strands of pearls braided into Margo’s hair. It’s fitting that she should choose a crown braid, walking in on my arm. It’ll send a message.
Finally, I say, “We should go.”
Eli shoots me a relieved look. Lenora looks disappointed, then promptly has a meltdown about Josie. Her daughter’s been dead for years. She had another foster kid who aged out who probably went to dances. But this moment reminds her of the past?
The strangest things will remind you.
I shake off the bad feeling. This has nothing to do with Margo. Tonight, we celebrate. Tomorrow…
Tomorrow is a new day.
After we excuse ourselves, we climb into Eli’s truck. Margo stays close to me in the backseat, practically glued to my side. I run my hand up and down her arm.
“I have something for you,” I say.
Alarm flashes across her face.
“Nothing bad.” Not yet.
“I hope not,” she says, smiling.
“Close your eyes.”
Once she does, I take her hand and flip it palm up. I set the small box on it as we pull into the parking lot of the hotel.
“Open,” I whisper.
Confusion. She starts to bite her lip, then stops herself.
Eli and Riley leave us alone, and I lean closer. “Open it.”
Her fingers shake as she removes the lid. The bracelet—one of the two she made for us—is curled delicately on a piece of foam. The other is on my wrist, tucked under the cuff of my shirt.
“I… I made this. A version of it, anyway.”
“You did.” I pick up the bracelet. “Do you remember when?”
“I made two.”
I show her the one on my wrist. If she lets me put this on her…
Hell, even if she doesn’t, she’s mine. This is just a physical reminder for her. And it’s tied to much more than that day.
It has to do with everything after.
We climb out of the truck and I take her clutch, putting it in my jacket pocket. There will be no distractions tonight—just her and me.
Before we go in, I pull her to a stop and slide my hand to the back of her neck. She’s delicate, like a hummingbird, and I can’t resist tasting her. Our lips touch once, softly, and then again. She presses into me, mouth opening. Our tongues dance, and a low groan comes from the back of her throat.
When we separate, her chest is heaving. I swipe my thumb under her lip, where we smeared lipstick. I’m sure I have some on my face, too. It’s part of the territory. She reaches up and mirrors my actions, wiping it away.
And then she smiles. “Thank you.”
I tilt my head. “For what?”
She shrugs, but her eyes betray her. She looks at the bracelet, then back up to me.
A dangerous feeling curls through my body.
She’s too smooth against my jagged edges. The way she’s looking at me… it’s like she wants me to break her.
Our pieces don’t align.
But they will.
2
Deleted Scene
This scene was originally at the beginning of Wicked Games, when Margo is hiding from Caleb at Ian’s. I ended up going in a different direction, but I’ve always loved how obsessed Caleb is in this scene!
—Sara
Margo
I grab the notebook and find my way back to the office. I close myself in, sinking into the chair behind the desk, and fire up the computer.
Ian had written down notes next to some of my questions.
Joke answers.
I flip to the next page, inexplicably irritated. I came to him. I should be able to put up with whatever he does to me. If that’s invade my privacy or touch me…
No.
There are some things that I can’t release. That I will guard furiously until the end.
Once the computer is loaded, I type in my dad’s name.
No results.
I shake my head. That’s not right.
I type in my name. Same thing. No results.
With trembling fingers, I type in Caleb’s name.
The last name catches results, but they’re all about a man named Josiah Asher.
Something should come up when I type in my dad’s name. His arrest coverage in the media, his achievements in school sports when he was younger… there’s nothing. I search again, just to make sure it wasn’t a glitch.
In fine print at the bottom, the search engine says: Articles and webpages may have been removed by a third party.
Who would have the power--or the desire--to do such a thing?
The front door slams against the wall. It echoes through the house. I have the urge to hide, so I do. Without remorse. I grab my notebook, clear my history on the computer, and dash into the hallway, through the kitchen and into the pantry.
“She would be here.”
It’s Caleb’s voice.
My knees go weak. Will he search every room in the house for me?
“She’s not.” Ian sounds bored.
I thought he left–but maybe Caleb caught him at the top of the driveway and made him turn around. It wouldn’t surprise me.
“Seriously, mate. You think she’d come here?” He grunts.
I wonder if Caleb hit him again.
Slowly, I rip out my list of questions and tuck the notebook into the pantry. I fold the paper and stuff it into my bra. If Caleb finds me–and finds the list–I can’t imagine what will happen.
“She has nowhere else to go,” he answers. “And she’d come here to throw me off. So I’ll ask you again: Where. Is. Margo?”
Ian laughs. “Fuck off, man. I have no idea where your girlfriend is. You two having a lovers quarrel?”
There’s a choking noise, and I jump forward. My fingers touch the doorknob.
I could do it. Step out there and stop Caleb from hurting Ian… And then I pause. Why the hell should I help Ian, when he’s been almost worse than Caleb? He deserves Caleb’s punishment. I highly doubt Caleb would kill him.
Caleb’s demons aren’t to be messed with–and right now they’re searching for me.
I shiver.
“I’m going to have a look around,” Caleb says. They must be in the kitchen for me to hear them so clearly.
Their footsteps pound on the stairs.
He’s going to find my bag by the door in the guest room. The crumpled comforter that I slept on top of. Even if the bed isn’t unmade, he’ll jump to conclusions.
I slip out of the pantry, thankful that I never took my shoes off. It’s one of those things you learn as a runaway. Always be prepared to run. It’s in the name, and it’s a lesson most of us learn quickly.
Getting branded as a runaway when I was thirteen...
Maybe one of the bigger regrets of my life.
I stayed in a group home for a year. It’s where I met Claire, actually, because she was a flight risk like me. We were in that home for a year together before I got released into another family. She stayed until we were placed together with Hanna.
I know Angela still has a talk with the foster parents about my runaway status. She pulled some strings to get me into a good home, but for a while, it was difficult.
“Margo!”
I jump. Caleb must be right above me. Maybe he found my backpack.
Fear threads through me.
The sliding glass door rolls open on nearly silent hinges, and then I’m free. It pains me to leave my things behind, but I don’t have a choice.
I creep down the stairs, just in case Caleb is at the window. Once I get to the edge of the house, I have to make a break for it.
And I do. It feels like I’m flying across the yard, my legs pumping, my arms swinging. I almost make it to the tree line when something plows into me.
Someone tackles me.
We hit the ground at an angle, my shoulder cushioning most of the blow. My head snaps forward, and white spots burst like stars in front of my vision. A weight presses me down, keeping my face in the grass.
It takes a second to distinguish the fingers squeezing the back of my neck. The hot breath moving my hair.
I try to turn my head, but the grip on my neck tightens.
They move–it’s either Ian or Caleb, I rationalize–and straddle my lower back.
“You can’t escape, love.”
Caleb.
I struggle, but he’s got me pinned. I reach back and try to shove him off of me. He smoothly grabs my wrist, wrenching it behind me until my shoulder burns.
I stop.
“I don’t know why you’re still fucking trying.”
“You want me gone,” I pant into the ground. “You made it clear enough, Caleb. So just get the hell off.”
“You may have started off as a game,” he whispers in my ear, “but let’s get one thing straight: you’re fucking mine.” He bites the shell of my ear.
I throw my head back, smashing into his, and twist my body with all my strength. He falls to the side, and suddenly I’m free. I pop up, glancing back at him.
He’s still on the ground, his eyes dark. Blood drips from his nostril.
He smiles at me.
I shake my head, backing away from him. “You’re nuts.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re into it.”
“I would be more inclined to agree with it if you didn’t just…” I shake my head. Destroy my life? I don’t want to give him that much credit.
He scoffs. “It’ll take more than that confession to loosen the Jenkins’ claws in you. They know who you are.”
I tilt my head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t try to sucker me.” He gets up.
Why do I feel like I’m the prey in this situation?
I back up as he approaches. He moves faster than me, but I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want him to even look at me.
“You and I,” I say in a low voice. “We’re done. I’m not yours, Caleb.”
He shakes his head. “You’re wrong.”
“Stop following me.”
He’s close enough to touch me. I wait for it, for whatever he’s going to do. Grab my wrist, my waist, my throat? He invokes such a visceral reaction in me. Lust. Fear.
