“I’ll be discreet. You won’t know I’m there.”
Cally forced her face into neutrality, even as a cold spike of panic stabbed beneath her ribs. She needed to get Antoine out. And now Darian—damn it, damn it—was going to be watching her every move.
She needed to talk to Eve—and with microphones everywhere, she couldn’t even do that.
Her chest constricted, and it was difficult to draw a breath.
Trapped, just like Antoine.
*
Cally paused in the hallway outside her door, fighting the urge to look up and spot the cameras she knew were there.
Was Darian watching, even now?
Muttering to herself, she turned on her heel and knocked on Eve’s door instead.
There was a delay before it opened just a crack, Eve cautious behind it. Then she opened it wider. “You all right?”
“Can I come in?”
“’Course.” Eve stepped back, holding the door. Her room was dark, the bedsheets disturbed, one side thrown back, and Eve wore only a T-shirt. Her eyes were full of concern.
Cally entered and waited for Eve to close the door behind her. Then she moved in close, her lips brushing against Eve’s ear as she whispered, “Darian made a pass at me.”
“No way!” Eve’s reaction slipped out before she could catch it, and they both froze. But nothing could be taken from that single remark, and the tension eased a notch. Eve filled the awkward silence. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Your ‘no way’ would suggest otherwise,” Cally teased, then leaned in again, keeping her voice quiet. “He thinks I said no because… um… you and I are…”
“That’s ironic,” Eve muttered.
Cally swallowed, her throat dry. “I thought maybe I should come here instead of… you know…”
“Of course,” Eve said quickly.
“I’m sorry.” Cally spoke softly into her ear, feeling wretched. “I don’t want to take advantage of you, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
Eve went up on her toes to bring her own lips to Cally’s ear. “It’s a shitty situation, but you did the right thing. We’ll play along. I promise not to jump you in the night.” Her voice took on a plaintive tone. “Even though it gets so cold.”
Cally shook her head at Eve’s playfulness. “That’s not what concerns me,” she murmured. “It just feels like I’m twisting the knife.”
“Seriously, don’t worry about me, babe. I know where we stand. I promise not to enjoy you being in my bed one little bit.”
“There’s more.” Cally dropped her voice even lower. “He’s returning with us. He’s attached himself to me.”
Eve pulled back to stare at her. “Shit,” she mouthed.
Cally gave a nod and a what-could-I-do shrug.
“I’m tired,” Eve said, affecting a weary tone, though her eyes danced with mischief. “It’s been a long day. I know you’re horny, babe, but can we skip sex tonight?”
Cally scowled at her, and Eve muffled a giggle, heading for the bed and climbing in.
Cally kicked off her boots and jeans, and pulled off her hoodie. She was going to have a real clean-clothes problem come morning, but all she had to sleep in was her T-shirt and underwear. She climbed in awkwardly while Eve lay still, facing away. There was just enough light to make out the tension in her shoulders—or maybe Cally was imagining it. She hoped she was.
They lay in silence for a while, Cally stiffly on her back, listening to Eve’s regular breathing. She knew Eve wasn’t asleep; she was feigning.
After a while, Eve turned over, edging close until her lips were near Cally’s ear. “I used to love those ‘only one bed’ tropes,” she muttered. “But this was never how I figured it panning out. I think you’ve ruined them for me.”
