The power flickered back on with a violent surge, casting Cara and Damian in a wash of cold, sterile light. For a split second, neither moved. Her breath caught in her throat. Damian’s arm tightened around her waist, protective but unreadable.
Cara’s phone buzzed again.
This time, a single message:
You think the game was about s*x? It was always about power. – Z
Her fingers tightened around the device, her pulse hammering. Damian tried to peer at the screen, but she angled it away, the flames of suspicion crackling between them now.
She stepped out of his embrace.
“We’re not alone in this,” she said. “And I don’t know if you’re protecting me or manipulating me.”
He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Cara, you’re not a pawn to me.”
She laughed bitterly, backing toward the table.
