Page 17 of Bribed by the Billionaire Bad Boy

She looks me dead in the eye, her face too close to mine, as the music descends to a halt. “You really like botching your lines,” she murmurs.

My gaze unwittingly flicks from her eyes to her lips and back up again. I can’t be blamed. Getting this close is in the script, along with the correct line—what’s bothering you, a pettythief, about stealing?But anyway… The point is: I’m blaming autopilot and not the way her soft pink lips are tipping gently upward. “I asked a question.”

She turns away.

The loss is more than I’ll ever admit.

“I don’t know that the answer is any of your business,Alexander.”

“I think it is. We’re partners, aren’t we?” I straighten up and away from her. “How can I help you be at your best? Do you want to run through the audition lines?”

A tiny laugh escapes her.

Even though the question is perfectly normal.

If we were normal people, we already should have run through our lines a hundred times by now. Until this moment, neither of us has mentioned it. Almost like there’s an unspoken understanding between us.

IamKenneth. And sheisHarriet.

“You’re a double-edged sword, Lex.” The tune that spills from her fingertips now is the one that stole my breath the moment her existence first brushed mine. Full and powerful, it rolls off her fingers and into the space around us. It breathes through our silence, and I’ve never before felt so connected to another living being in my entire life.

In awe, I remain where I am until the final chiming note trickles out into the nothingness.

Peace consumes Calypso’s expression, her eyes closed. Her whispering voice is the only acceptable thing to follow the song. “If all the world’s a stage, none of us get to be the authors. We’re all just waiting on our cues. I’d hoped my turn to face down a choice like this would never come again.”

Again?

My chest burns. “Who’s to say you can’t be both the author and the actor? Who’s to say you don’t get to write your ownstory?”

She laughs, something odd about it. A gleam of satirical humor lights in her eyes when they open, meet mine. “Only God has control of this set He made. We’re all just playing by a script we never got to read and waiting for Him to take His bow.” She fixes me with those eyes, those large blue eyes that seem to know too much. “I hate you,” she states.

My breath catches, saliva choking me when I try to swallow. The easy way she says those words stabs me through the heart and just about slits my throat.

“You were right.” She gathers her faded bag with a sigh, like my being right about anything is a crime against humanity. “You’re too easy to be around. And I’ve only ever truly enjoyed my own company.”

I wet my lips, trying to gather my thoughts on what she’s just admitted.

On her way out the door, she glances back at me, “I’ll do the audition without my glasses. If it’s justus, maybe I won’t be so scared. See you in class,Alexander.”

After that, she leaves.

Just walks away.

Like she hasn’t rocked my entire world, left me speechless, and made me reconsider everything I hate about my name.

For some reason, it doesn’t sound so bad as a taunt from her lips.

Calypso

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I flirted with him. WithAlexander Hawthorn. Or at least I think I did. It isn’t like I’ve ever actuallyflirtedwith anyone before, but that’s what it felt like when I left the theater room this morning.

With my heart in my throat, my stomach upside down, and a hot flush threatening to swallow me whole, I dared to suggest I didn’t mind being around him.

The worst part is it wasn’t an act. It was thetruth.

I was shocked and startled when he barged in on my song. I was angry that he’ddared, but, in the end, I willingly played it for him. And I wasn’t even nervous. He made me nervous over the stupidest things, yet baring the piece of myself I couldn’t even bear to share with my ownmotherwas as natural as breathing.