The CEO and Her Driver

Chapter 7

I was an excellent poker player. I enjoyed analyzing facial expressions, reading people's tells when they tried to hide behind their cards. Everyone had a tick that told you when they were lying, when they were bluffing in a game. 

I had gone through high school, making extra cash by reading people during poker games. It won me a good amount of cash, but it made me lose my naivety to how much people lied on a regular basis. It became impossible to pretend I didn't see them. The lies were too obvious. 

It was so easy to see the truth behind the fake smiles and false words. I could tell when others were lying about their relationship status, lying through fake compliments, and lying about their feelings. 

Tate Dalton stared up at me, lying and not lying all at the same time. A conflict of contradictions filled his face with the slight tension in his jaw, the way his brow furrowed slightly, leaving a small divot in between his brows, and in the slight tint of color that crawled up his neck. He was and wasn't joking. And that was good and bad all at the same time. 

And in that uncertainty, wondering if he had pushed me too far, more concerned for me than his determination to prove a point, I found his weakness. He was too kind. Too good. It made my next decision too easy. I would call his bluff. I knew I could throw that fake confidence back at him and mess with him far more than he would ever dare mess with me. 

If he wanted to play a game, fine. I was excellent at games. And I would rather play a game than sit there and try to decide if I wanted him to be serious. It was better to act like the entire thing was a joke. 

Jokes keep things from being serious. So let's just make this one big joke.

Tilting my head down, I placed it against his chest, and snuggled up to him on the couch, ignoring the others in the room. Tate tensed underneath me, surprised by my sudden change. I turned my face so I was facing Michale, who stood nearby, ready to capture us on camera. 

Michale smirked, amused that I had already called Tate's bluff. He shook his head minutely as if to say, try not to scare him away before we are done.

I had known Michale for years, so the request was fair. He knew me well enough to know that most boys that came into my life didn't last long.

"Cuddle closer!" Michale instructed, back in professional mode as he stared back through the lens.

I sat up and moved my head until I had it borrowed into the side of Tate's neck, allowing the smell of his intoxicating cologne to wash over me. He let out a shocked breath as I wrapped my hands around his waist. He was warm, his muscles lean under my fingers. It made me feel safe. 

And for a brief moment, I humored the part of me that enjoyed the feeling of him against me. Enjoyed how comfortable I felt snuggled up to him. Smiled at the idea of getting to cuddle with someone, even if this particular guy infuriated me whenever he opened his mouth.

"Don't look so terrified! She's not going to bite you!" Michale called, trying not to laugh at Tate sitting completely still, like an attractive cardboard cutout.  

I slowly lifted my eyes and smiled up at Tate from under my lashes. "No promises," I said with my own dangerous smile.

His eyes went wide as he took me in, and I could see a thousand rebuttals, most likely in joke form fluttering through his brain. He was trying to find something to say. To find a joke about us cuddled up on a couch like two idiots while dozens of people stared at us, trying to create the perfect shot that would be plastered in magazines. But no words came out. He just stared at me for a long beat, his eyes darkening for a moment before he blinked, and sat up, removing himself from me and running his fingers through his hair.