20. Secrets

Colton

I can't get over that kiss. It was out of this world, and now, everything feels different. At least it does for me. Something happened during that kiss. Something I can't explain and have never felt before. A connection. Something real. And I can't help but wonder if she felt it too.

I haven't been able to keep my eyes off Jane since that moment. It's like my eyes are drawn to her like a magnet. She's stunning tonight. She always lights up the room, but the way her sleek beige dress hangs on her hips is exquisite.

Jane. The woman is a mystery I'm dying to solve. Why is a girl like her alone? No boyfriend, no family, no friends. Why did she leave her home state without looking back? What exactly is she running from? Her background check didn't show anything unusual, which leaves me even more intrigued. Normally, I hate mysteries. I like when everything is clear and transparent. I don't want to spend my time hunting for answers, but for some reason, this is different. I know this enigma is worth solving. I felt her facade crack earlier when tears were pooling in her eyes, and I wanted more. I'm a bastard, I know, but it's true. Because if she had completely cracked, then I'd have my answers—or some of them, at least.

I spend the rest of the night chatting with guests and introducing them to Jane, and I'm glad to see she has her gorgeous smile back on. The fact that I was the one to bring it back makes my heart warmer than it's ever been. My motivation in this world has always been to change my own narrative. To trade the image of the poor foster kid for that of a successful businessman, but I never thought it'd be just as thrilling to change the narrative for somebody else. Jane and I are similar in that way. Giving her the chance to reinvent herself is as much a gift to her as it is to me.

Jane

"Do you want to go to bed, or are you up for a game?" Colton asks once we get home.

I bite my lip, checking my watch. It's late, but I don't think I could ever resist spending time with Colton. "I'm up for getting my revenge." My lips twist into a smile. "Let me just check on Truffles first."

When I open my bedroom door, she's curled up on my bed, sleeping. She meows loudly when she spots me and rolls onto her back. I pet her and kiss the top of her head. Then, I exchange my shoes for slippers, make sure my makeup and hair still look good, and meet Colton in the game room.

He has already set up the UK version on the table, and two glasses of white wine are waiting next to the board. "Which token do you want?"

"I'll take the dog," I say, sitting across from him. He chooses the top hat. "Get ready to taste my revenge," I say, rubbing my hands together.

But guess what? I lose again. Not that it matters, because I'm rewarded instead with Colton's breathtaking smile. My alcohol-infused brain is feeding on it, and I hate that I love it so much.

"It's a game of luck," I huff, crossing my arms in front of me.

"Oh, don't be a bad loser, now." He leans back in his chair, emptying his drink. "It's not a good look."

"It's true, though. You landed on the best properties, and I spent half my time in jail." How ironic.

"Luck is a factor, but talent is the bigger one."

I roll my eyes but keep my mouth shut. I know he's just playing this arrogant, full-of-himself guy. Everything else he's shown me speaks otherwise.

"Can I ask you something?" he asks, his gaze intensifying.

"Sure."

His steely eyes drill into me. "What are you running from?"

I blink rapidly, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Last time we played, you said you landed in LA because you were running away."

I swallow hard. "That's true."

He leans forward, propping his elbows on the table as his laser eyes search my face. "What happened, Jane?"

Part of me wants to scold him for being so nosy, perhaps even storm off to my room. But the genuine concern in his eyes is disarming.

I've never told anyone this story, but despite my reservations, I open my mouth to speak. Colton has a way of making people talk to him. Or at least me. I can't seem to hide anything from him, and that scares me to death.

"When I was sixteen, I met this older guy, Zander." His name burns my throat, and I hate that it still has that effect on me. "He had a motorcycle and a badass attitude. I had been in foster care and group homes my entire life, always shoved to the sidelines, but for once, someone took an interest in me. It was everything I ever hoped for. I finally had someone to guide me, and I took comfort in that. Until that guidance turned into control." My throat chokes on the last word.

Colton doesn't say anything, his eyes encouraging me to keep going.

"So much control I couldn't go anywhere alone. I had to stop going to school. I couldn't work or have friends. I wanted to leave him, but I couldn't. Sometimes, it was his sweet talking that got me to stay. Sometimes, it was his fists. Every time I tried to escape, he was one step ahead of me. Stronger than me. Until one day, I managed to get out."

I have to do this. It's my only shot. Glancing around the messy trailer, I spot everything that belongs to me and brainstorm the quietest way through the room. My heart picks up its pace as I complete my assessment, and I tug on my sleeves like I always do. Discarded plates and glasses litter the floor, so I have to be careful not to hit them. I might bump into the tall lamp, and that would definitely wake him up. Zander has always been a light sleeper. Luckily, the heroin and whiskey combo he's been abusing all through the night has left him sound asleep. My skin prickles with terror at the thought of even moving a finger, but it's now or never.

Carefully, I stand up from the sagging couch, stopping halfway to make sure he's still asleep. Then, I tiptoe as fast as I can around the room. I gather a few clothes, some shoes, and my purse. Things are sliding from my arms when I notice a blue duffle bag lying in the corner. I shove my belongings in, turning to make sure Zander is still snoring on the couch. My heart is beating so fast, it feels like it's passing through a loudspeaker, booming and vibrating. Zander doesn't seem to hear my thumping heart, but that doesn't surprise me. He doesn't even have one himself.

Standing up, I creep toward the front door, ready to flee this prison that has been my home for years. That's when I see it. A stack of cash on the countertop. It's not much, but it could get me far away from this place. Far away from him. Without thinking twice, I grab the pile and open the door as quietly as I can. The hinges crackle like they always do, and my body tenses. Zander snorts and turns over on the couch. Once I'm outside, I bolt, running as fast as I can.

"Jane." Colton reaches over the table to clasp my hand, bringing me back to reality. I take comfort in the warmth of his touch. "I'm sorry."

"It's over now," I say, squeezing his hand. "But that's how I ended up here. I didn't have a plan. I just hopped on the first bus out of town."

Colton

I'm the one who asked for it, but Jane's story shook me to the core. My emotions get tangled in my chest, and I don't know what to say. I want to strangle that bastard for putting her through this, and my heart aches for that young teenager who got so broken by the foster system that she fell into the hands of someone like him.

Finally, I manage to find my words. "What happened to him?"

Her gaze flits around the room, her body seemingly shrinking. "I don't know. Sometimes, I feel like he's found me, but I never saw him again after that."

"What do you mean?"

She sighs. "It's just in my head, I guess. PTSD. I have the feeling I'm being watched sometimes, but there's never anyone there."

"Have you looked him up? Found out where he lives?"

Her entire body trembles. "I never gathered the strength. I was afraid that if I looked him up, he'd find me or something." A weak chuckle escapes her. "Dumb, I know."

My hand is still holding hers, and it feels smaller than ever. "It's not dumb, Jane."

"I've never told this story to anyone," she squeaks out, her pitch suddenly an octave higher. "Please keep it to yourself."

As if I would ever share her secrets. "Of course. And remember, you're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know."

Our eyes lock for what seems like an eternity, and I wish the moment would never end. I've just met the real Jane, and she's even more amazing than I expected.

"So, anyway," she says, clearing her throat. "That's how I ended up here, and why relationships are not in my agenda. I didn't exactly have the best experience with guys. I know it's not supposed to be like that, and it could be different. But giving up power scares me too much. I need control."

"I get it," I say, finally understanding her motivation behind getting every single detail of our arrangement in writing. "I grew up in foster care too, so I understand wanting to be the master of your own destiny, even if my story is nothing like yours."

She does a double take. "You were in foster care? But you said . . . Your mom . . ."

"She was my foster mom. When I was ten, she took me in. She couldn't have children of her own, so it felt like she was my real mom. I got lucky. She didn't have much, but she shared it all with me, and she truly cared for me. Not like the other foster parents I had before, but I don't need to explain that to you. You know how the system works."

She nods. "I'm sure she would be really proud of you today. Look at where you are, what you've achieved. Not many foster kids make it big."

My heart constricts in my chest. I hope my mom can see me from above, that she's proud of me. She always said I'd do great things, and she was right, I guess. I am successful. But sometimes, it just feels pointless. Like a never-ending quest.

I nod. "I think she would be. But that's not entirely true, about making it big. My friend, Wade—the one who's wedding we're going to—was a foster kid too. And he's now one of Europe's biggest football stars. With determination and hard work, we can do anything."

"And a little bit of luck," she says. "Just like in Monopoly. You can be as determined as you want, but if you don't have any opportunities, it's hard to make your dreams come true. We're not all equals."

"Maybe . . . But you can also create your own luck, break down closed doors to make opportunities happen, make people see you. That's what I did."

A smile crinkles her lips. "Well, it certainly worked for you. To your success," she says, raising her glass.

"To our success," I say with a wink, then take a sip. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about this with anyone. Just like you, this is not a period of my life I like to share."

She pretends to zip her mouth shut. "My lips are sealed."

Sharing my past with Jane feels natural, leaving my brain a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. I knew there was something special about this girl, something that connected us instantly. I guess our similar pasts are part of that. Staying away from her after tonight won't be an option. I'm in big trouble.

"Should we call it a night?" she asks, looking around.

"Yes," I say, snapping out of my thoughts. But all I can think about now is going upstairs with Jane, and the idea makes my heart rattle.

We put the game away and stroll to the living room. Once we're in front of the stairs, she turns around.

My jaw tightens. It would be so easy to just lean forward and kiss her. I can already imagine the softness of her full lips on mine. Her hand in my hair as she deepens our kiss.

"Good night," she says, and before I can say or do anything, she spins around and walks away.

I stay right where I am in the dark living room. Unable to move, wondering how my perfectly organized life became such a mess. Damn. I'm falling for my fake fiancée.