Page 115 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

“A fair lace mask for the pretty girl?”

I glance up at the shop owner. He’s been hovering, pointing at various costumes and accessories. None have been quite right. Although, I’m not quite sure what I’m looking for. I don’t have a dress, and Caleb, who seemed to have a plan, has disappeared.

The shop owner holds out a delicate, pale-pink mask. It’s meant to cover half the face, not both eyes.

“No,” Caleb says, coming up behind him. “I found it.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Where is it?”

“You have to wait outside.” He grins. “I think it’ll be better if it’s a surprise.”

“Seriously?”

The shop owner appraises us.

Caleb narrows his eyes at me. “Out.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “Fine. I’m going to get coffee.”

I leave the shop, contemplating circling back and trying to get a glimpse of whatever Caleb is buying. Instead, I resist the urge and cross the street. There’s a cute little coffee shop directly across from the costume shop.

Playing nice, I order myself a latte and Caleb a black coffee.

We were both obsessed with tasting coffee when we were young. It never failed to wrinkle our noses. But at the time, coffee was synonymous with caffeine. And what better to help two ten-year-olds stay up past their bedtimes than caffeine?

I shake the memory out of my head as Caleb comes into the shop. A paper bag dangles from his fingertips.

“I got you one,” I say.

“Is this bribery?”

“No.” I roll my eyes. “Not everything has a string attached.”

He shrugs. “You’d be surprised.”

We sit and drink our coffee, and I try my hardest not to even look in the direction of the bag.

He glances at his watch and straightens. “We have to go. My appointment is soon.”

“You said you had to sign papers? For what?”

He winks. “Just boring business stuff.”

“Your dad—”

“Just leave it, Margo.” He rubs his eye. “Can we go ten minutes without questions?”

He doesn’t say please, but I imagine the plea chasing his request.

“Fine,” I murmur.

I’ll just have to observe and see if I can figure out what Caleb Asher is hiding.

We take a taxi. It drops us off in front of a tall building, and Caleb winds his hand through mine. He leads me into the lobby and points to a group of armchairs in the corner.

“Sit.”

Since I promised no questions, I keep my mouth shut and take a seat.