Page 13 of Gilt

Way to go, Emma. How would someone who hadn’t embraced the life of cynicism respond to that confession?

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask slowly.

“Not really.” His laugh is hollow. I recognize the bitter edge in it. Apparently, Jameson and I are going to keep finding things we have in common.

“I have a knack for disappointing my parents, too,” I promise him. “If my dad knew I was here…”

“Why are you here?” he asks bluntly. Maybe the time for games is over.

“My friend dragged me and then promptly left me to fend off Monroe’s fury. I’m not supposed to be here.” It feels good to admit it.

“Me either,” he murmurs. “So neither of us wants to be here, and neither of us should be here. Tell me, Duchess. Who do you want to be tonight?”

I raise an eyebrow. “I thought I was the Duchess.”

“If you like,” he promises, “but tonight, you can be anyone and anything. What will it be?”

“Carefree,” I say without hesitation. “I want to be carefree.”

Jameson falls silent as if considering my answer. Studying me for a moment, he finally stands and holds out his hand.

“Another game?” he suggests.

“Twenty questions went so well for us,” I say dryly.

“Truth or dare.”

Narrowing my eyes, I take his hand and allow him to pull me up. “Truth.”

“Why do you hate Monroe?” he asks.

“She stole my boyfriend. Truth or dare?” I don’t linger on my answer. There’s no way I’ll get to carefree if I let thoughts of Jonas sneak into my subconscious.

“Truth.”

“Why did you leave school?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t call it a voluntary exit,” he admits. “I was kicked out. This game sucks.”

“Let’s liven it up,” I suggest. “Dare.”

Jameson doesn’t miss a beat. “Go swimming with me.”

“I don’t have a suit.” My objection dies on my lips as he tugs his shirt over his head, revealing the hard slab of abs the thin fabric hinted at.

“Carefree, remember? Your turn.”

I pause, realizing this might be a good time to gracelessly exit.

“C’mon, Duchess. I showed you mine.”

“Hardly a fair trade,” I hedge, even as my fingers inch toward the hem of my skirt. “I’m only wearing this.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” A grin splits across his handsome face as my cheeks turn red.

“And underwear!”

“That’s a shame,” he says sadly, unbuckling his belt and sliding it through the loops. The sound of the leather vibrating against denim trembles across me. “Allow me to even things out.”