Casing ✔️

Chapter 17

Books.

I had to bring books for this date, and James was pretty adamant I did. The dirtiest ones I had, he'd said.

It was a miracle I remembered anything at all from last night. Fragments was really all it was, until I saw the text from James this morning, where he told me we were going on a date, and to bring books. Before that, I only remembered meeting Marius again, and talking and laughing with him and my friends, and then...I remembered very vividly that James carried me away from them to tell me I wasn't allowed to talk to my ex.

Well, he didn't exactly put it like that, but I understood—even if it was a bit excessive. He couldn't be an enemy to anyone, as far as I knew. That boy was so sweet and laidback.

But since I was a Strac I decided I wouldn't seek him out. If he came to me, however, I wouldn't ignore him. He was my friend once, so I wouldn't want to believe anything bad about him at all. Not without proof, anyway.

I was really close to bailing on this night, though, looking at the books in my bag. He wanted to read from them, and he wanted them to be dirty. My smut wasn't always dirty, though, but it was quality.

I hoped so badly that he'd forget about it and focus on getting to know me—his future wife—instead. Not that I was ashamed, not at all, I just wasn't sure I wanted James—my future husband, apparently—to know so quickly what I liked in that way.

Not that I knew I liked it yet, I hadn't tried...but I liked reading it, and some of the scenes from the best books had helped me get off in the past. Ahem. I wasn't sure that was something I'd let him know, though. I'd rather let him guess whether or not that had happened, if I could force my mouth not to spill the beans before I could think.

Again.

Oh, wow. I was a mess. I really tried to undress him in public, and I really did feel him underneath me. Honestly, I'd rather barricade my door and go back to my tower than face him again, but a part of me was very, very certain that he didn't mind. If anything, I was sure he enjoyed it to the fullest.

That was what scared me the most; that he actually enjoyed my love for books. Maybe that was the big red flag I was supposed to tell Hank about. What man would like that their potential partner read so many books? Especially knowing that said books included men with unrealistic personality traits and limbs.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before pulling the bag over my shoulder, setting course for downstairs. No one was in to see me walk out of the house with what looked like an overnight bag—it wasn't.

The familiar black car was waiting for me by the curb, with Borgen waiting outside of it. He nodded as I approached, and opened up the door for me.

"Good evening," I said, "thanks for picking me up."

He didn't respond. And he didn't help my short ass into the tall car either, but I'd gotten the hang of it by then. James had to help Damian with something mob-related, I assumed, so he said Borgen would pick me up alone. But he wouldn't be long.

Borgen wasn't really very talkative, which made me anxious. "What have you been up to today?" I asked once the car was moving, looking towards him in the mirror.

He glanced up, as if he was unsure if I was talking to him or not. Then he said, "Nothing."

"Sounds like a nice weekend." I smiled at him, but he looked away and kept driving in silence.

I tried not to make my groan audible, but I was sure he probably heard it anyway.

My feet were tapping against the floor, and I stared out the window, biting my tongue to stop myself from talking Borgen's ears off. I wanted to ask so many questions, but I knew not to push it when I wasn't wanted. Maybe Borgen was as disapproving of this...relationship as Hank was.