Page 55 of Play for Power (Central Sparks #3)

“I hate being a secret, I want you all to myself and I don’t want to hide it anymore.

” Yeah, that’ll do it. I press a hand to the center of his chest and push, and he takes the steps backward and allows the distance.

I feel every new feeling he elicits from me fall and hide away in the little lockbox at the back of my mind.

The welcomed and familiar feeling of gray hollowness covers me like a cloak, and I let my fake smile show.

He wants what he can’t have, what we can’t have. It wouldn’t matter if I wanted the same—which, obviously, I don’t—we simply can’t have it.

I barely move my head, but the message, I hope, is clear.

No. I can see him about to step into me again, but the elevator doors open at our floor, thank God.

I grab my suitcase and step around him, leaving the elevator.

It’s only a beat and then I hear him behind me.

I don’t even know what to say to that. Because the sex is, like…

the best I’ve ever had. I’m not about to dive into a spiral of how well I know the bachelors of New York, but I’m well versed in what that city has to offer, and when I tell you that Caleb Smith is top fucking tier, you know I ain’t lying.

Impressive cock aside, the man has depth.

He’s fun, entertaining, serious when he needs to be, intelligent, and quite successful.

I know he’s done well for himself, based on his apartment and clothing selections… and?—

“Hold on, is this the presidential suite?” I point at the only door in the short hallway. I barely batted an eye when I selected the top level.

“It is,” he says from directly behind me, his tone giving away nothing.

Okay…so he’s got a credit card he is going to be paying down for the next five years…or he does a lot better for himself than I ever realized.

“You paid for the most expensive suite for three nights.” I turn and see his look of frustration morph into that of annoyance.

“Is it really so hard to believe? Did you not have a Rolls and a driver booked to pick you up from the airport?”

“But you flew coach?” I point out, because I mean, make it make sense.

“I spend my money properly, Rosebud.” The smile he flicks at me is slightly condescending, but I let it slide.

“And the presidential suite is properly?” He wipes a hand down his face before snatching the key card out of my hand, swiping it, and then opening the door, holding it, and gesturing for me to hurry up and enter.

I do, silently, but then once we’re in the room I spin and raise an expectant eyebrow because none of this makes sense.

“I like to sleep comfortably. I like the balcony because there is fresh air and there is an entire view of the city that is my home. I also planned for it to be the suite we shared, and you don’t deserve to sleep in some cheap, half-rate room with a minibar.

This comes with a fully stocked kitchen, and maybe”—he steps closer into my space and plays with a curl hanging by my face—“if you’re a good girl, you’ll even get to try my famous pancakes.

” His eyes dart to my lips and I can’t help but wet them with my tongue at the way his heated and hooded eyes burn my skin.

But the empty smirk across his face tells me he isn’t about to demand I get on my knees and crawl.

Instead, it’s a smirk I’ve come to know is his own version of a mask.

Doing too well of a job hiding all the emotions he won’t let me see.

I don’t want to see them, they are none of my business. I continue to tell myself.

“That means there are at least two bedrooms.”

He drops the curl, taking his bag and heading for the first hallway. “Correct.” He sounds defeated.

“So, why’d you let me order a damn cot?”

“I was a little busy trying to come up with a way to turn down the date you tried to hook me up with at concierge.” His head tips over his shoulder and he gives me an exasperated look before a gentle smile, and then he’s gone.

He pushes through the bedroom door and closes it.

While I’m still standing here. Alone in the hallway.

“Uh, okay then.” I shake the confusion, dragging my case into the other bedroom…

after taking a few minutes to find it. It is of course on the opposite side of the suite, has its own en suite and balcony, which is nice.

It almost looks like the master suite, but I presume this is one of those rooms where all the bedrooms look like a master suite.

I get unpacked and text Addy to say that I’m here and getting settled, letting her know where I’m staying—leaving out the fact it is the same suite Caleb is staying in, obviously.

I’m unpacking my toiletries when there is a soft knock on my door. I’m almost there to open it when his voice reaches me from the other side.

“Heading out for a run.” I still haven’t opened it, and I can hear his retreating steps.

My chest deflates. Why am I disappointed by this?

I hate the way I feel a little hollower knowing that I’m now alone. Also why do I care that we just got here and he’s already leaving me alone?

I pack away my toiletries into the vanity cupboards with a little more frustration than I had a moment ago, the force of me stacking my products getting a little out of control when my phone buzzes with a text.

I reach over, feeling my face light up a bit at seeing Addy’s name and a message that she’s in the lobby.

Perfect! Just the distraction I need.

“Hey, girl!” I call when I meet her down in the lobby, dressed comfortably as she suggested. She looks like the little athlete she is in her activewear, and I’m more than a little fascinated with what she has planned.

“Noah said he and Caleb needed to go over some business stuff.” Oh…he said he was going for a run. Why didn’t he tell me? Because he is none of your business.

Right. Right. Duh.

I clear my throat and hide all my thoughts and feelings away.

“I figured I’d show you one of the best places I’ve found in Chicago.

Figured you could use it.” Her smile is playful and it is singing to my soul.

I love Addy like this. She has had such a hard time over the years and I know she silently struggles every now and then.

Watching her glow makes my heart warm, and I’m so proud of her strength.

She crooks an elbow and turns for the door. “You in?”

“Oh, I’m so there!” I link my arm in hers and we chuckle as we strut through the front doors and into a waiting cab.

“So, this is the Rage Cage?” I peer up at the building as the cab drops us off and peels away from the curb.

“Well, not the Rage Cage. The one I usually go to is in NYC. I found this one on a visit with Noah while he’s been staying here. Sometimes a girl needs to break some shit, you know.”

“Do I ever.”

“So ready to release some rage?” She sounds downright giddy, and when I turn to look at her, her cheeks are slightly flushed from the heat and a gleam of excitement in her eyes. Her little spark of fire is one of my favorite things about this little pocket rocket.

“Who says I have any rage in need of releasing. I’m perfectly composed and calm all of the time,” I tease, and she chuckles.

“Girl, I saw your dad rock up at the gala. I saw you storm away in his direction. Don’t think I don’t know a thing or two about daddy issues. Tell me thinking about his face doesn’t make you want to break shit.” She raises a questioning brow at me and I snort gently under my breath.

Well, she’s got me there.

“All right, little demon, let’s go break some shit.

” I give her a friendly little spank on the booty before I ditch and skip into the building.

I can hear her sputtering a choked laugh at the taunting nickname.

Thin walls and all that. Strangely, I kind of miss having her and Casey under my roof.

I certainly don’t miss hearing all their athletic sex though.

Full-body shiver.

We go through the check-in, paying, putting on our protective goggles and Breaking Bad– looking jumpsuits, and then before we know it, we’re heading to our selected smash room. Addison is basically buzzing with excitement.

“Any particular reason you needed to break shit today?” I ask Addy. I keep my tone light but there is an energy about her today that tells me it’s a little more than just her usual run-of-the-mill anger. She’s triggered.

She rolls her shoulders, her head moving side to side like someone preparing for a fight. “You don’t have to tell me if you don?—”

“It’s Noah.” When I screech to a halt in front of our smash room door, I see her eyes blaze, her hands tightening into fists.

“What about Noah?” I ask lightly, but so help me God, if he broke her heart I’m going to break?—

“He’s being weird? I don’t know. Just jumpy and sketchy.

Like he’s hiding something. I think it’s just my anxiety getting the best of me.

My therapist said I should just talk to him, but every time I try, he’s just this little ball of cute sunshine that says he loves me and shit.

I don’t know.” She throws her head back, her chest rising and falling, and I watch her try to take a controlled breath. Try being the operative word.

“Isn’t cute, sunshine, and love what the goal is here?” I chuckle at her, unsure how any of that is different from how Noah has ever acted. He’s been smitten from day one, any idiot could see that.

“Yeah…I guess. I don’t know. I just want him to be straight with me.

I know he’s hiding something. I don’t think he’d ever hurt me, I’m sure it’s not bad, I just hate not knowing and I just want to beat his cute little face into telling me all his secrets.

” She balls her fist as if to punctuate her frustration.

I hum acknowledgment. “Yeah. I know a thing or two about wanting to smack the shit out of a hot idiot,” I mumble, looking longingly into our beautiful smash room. “How about we break some plates instead?” I open the door and Addy sighs through a chuckle.

“Yes. Let’s.”