CHAPTER 17 GIGI
GIGI
F or the last time, stop asking questions and go to sleep .” The borderline growl in Slate’s voice meant that he was probably getting close to breaking. Gigi could tell.
“But sleep deprivation is so much fun,” she replied, laying back on the fur throw he’d so thoughtfully provided for her.
It was the little details that really made a kidnapping.
She folded her arms behind her head and stared up into the darkness of their mysterious abode like she was stargazing.
“One time, I stayed up all night and had so much coffee that I hallucinated a mouse in overalls sitting on a non-hallucinatory policeman’s shoulders.
” Gigi smiled beatifically. “But if you want to get some sleep, go right ahead.”
“Nice try, sunshine. I won’t be sleeping tonight.” There was the slightest flash of light in the darkness. His phone.
“Expecting a call?” Gigi asked. “From someone Eve-il, perhaps?”
“I’m not talking to you about Eve.”
Definite growl this time. Progress!
“I know who her father is.” Gigi propped herself up on her elbows.
Sometimes, the trick to getting someone to talk was just to refuse to stop talking until they complied.
“Grayson let it slip. Eve is Toby Hawthorne’s biological daughter—Toby, of course, being Grayson’s mysterious uncle, who is totally not dead anymore. ”
“Not a Hawthorne anymore, either,” Slate pointed out.
Grayson had once told Gigi that the situation in question was complicated . “Once a Hawthorne, always a Hawthorne,” she replied.
“Yeah, well, tell that to Eve.”
That’s what this is about , Gigi realized, suddenly as sure of that as she was of her own name. Eve wasn’t interfering with the Grandest Game as part of some broader competition with a bunch of other rich sponsors. This was personal.
“Daddy issues?” Gigi guessed. “I know them well.”
Slate reverted to broodier-than-thou silence, and Gigi decided to change tactics.
“Tell me, my blond, nefarious friend, do you ever feel compelled to do the right thing? The heroic thing?” Gigi adopted a stage-whisper: “Blink once for yes and twice for no.”
“There’s almost no light in here. You can’t see my eyes. And we aren’t friends.”
“Yes, we are, and as it happens, I’m sporadically psychic. My powers of intuition tell me that you aren’t blinking at all.” If Gigi could find the goodness in him—if he could find it—maybe she could talk him into letting her go.
It hardly even counted as having gotten yourself kidnapped if it lasted less than eight hours.
“You want to know what I think about doing the right thing, sunshine? About trying to be a hero?” There was no growl in Slate’s voice now and no emotion, no emphasis at all. “I think that I’m always at my most dangerous when my intentions are good.”
Like right now? Gigi’s fingers gently stroked the soft fabric beneath her. “You could let me go,” she said quietly.
“You could go to sleep.”
Not likely, bucko. “Returning to the topic of Eve and daddy issues,” Gigi said grandly, and then suddenly, she stopped—because suddenly, a half dozen different details came together in her mind.
Details like the necklace that she’d worn in the game, which had turned out to be a two-way communication device that had almost certainly been meant for someone else. A female someone.
Details like the fact that when Gigi had considered potential candidates for Eve’s player in the game, she’d focused on only three of the five remaining players.
Details like THE SECRET that Gigi had been keeping for the past year-and-a-half.
This is personal.
Daddy issues.
“You okay?” Slate asked. Apparently, he didn’t trust her silence, but Gigi barely even heard him.
All she could do was think about was the fact that more than a year earlier, when Slate had first approached her, Gigi had been searching for her father, and Grayson had been trying to make sure she didn’t find out the truth.
THE SECRET.
What if Slate knew? What if Eve did? Gigi’s heart pounded in her throat. Daddy issues.
“Eve’s player in the game.” Gigi didn’t want to ask, but she had to. “Is it my sister?”