Page 81 of Vicious Little Games

The gemologist pales a little at that comment, then he eyes the big men in black standing behind us like giant statutes as if just now noticing our guards.

“Don’t worry. We’re not going to kill her or seriously injure her,” I say to him. Then to Cole, “What exactly are we going to do to her?”

“Since this is my win, I get to decide.”

“Fine. Let’s go,” I huff, letting him have this one victory, even if it means the two of us are tied in the quest to become my father’s heir.

We drive to the address Annette Davidson used on her employment documents. The house looks similar enough to the one in the background of her recent posts, making us assume she still lives here. Their truck is also in the driveway, but not the sedan. And when we walk up to the door to knock with our four guards trailing us, no one answers.

“How disappointing. They’re not home. Now what?” I ask Cole.

“Now we wait for her to get home.”

“Wait? It could be hours!”

“Yeah, it could be,” he agrees. “Did you have more important plans tonight?”

“Yes, actually.” I check the time on my phone and swear. “I guess I’ll have to reschedule since we all rode here in one SUV.”

“What plans are you rescheduling?” he asks with a smirk and tilt of his head like he thinks I’m lying.

“I was supposed to meet Alistair at eight.”

Cole blinks at me silently while I type out my message to him. “What?” I ask after I hit send, and he’s still staring at me.

“You’re joking, right? You’re not actually going out with the munchkin man again.”

“Would I have sent him a message asking to go out tomorrow instead of tonight if I wasn’t?” I respond holding up my phone and giving it a side-to-side jiggle. The truth is that we were just going out for pizza as friends, and then to a show. Mostly, I just wanted to enjoy my freedom of being able to leave the casino with the PI until my father chooses another blind date for me to go on.

“Show me,” Cole demands.

“Fine.” I pull up the message log and turn the screen around to show him.

He reads each text, and even lifts a hand as if to take the phone from me to scroll up, but I pull it back and slip it into my slacks before he can grab it.

“Why?” he asks when his eyes find mine again, a scowl on his face. Ooh, he’s so jealous. And I enjoy it a little too much.

“Why what?” I hedge, as if I have no clue what he’s talking about.

“Why are you going out with the shrimp again?”

“Alistair is nice. And stop calling him shrimp and munchkin. It’s not his fault if he’s directionally challenged.”

“So, you’re going to see him tomorrow night instead?”

“Yep. That’s what I suggested in my message, isn’t it?”

“Well, then, I guess there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go see Inessa again tomorrow night.”

I swallow down the bitter taste of fair play in my mouth. I hate just hearing her name. Still, I say, “You can do whatever you want, Cole.”

He stares at me as if waiting for me to say more, like he expects me to beg him not to see another woman when it’s the best thing he could do. So instead of giving him what he wants, I decide to change the subject. “Can we at least wait in the SUV instead of on these people’s porch?”

“No,” he responds. “Hey, Mike, do you mind?” Cole inclines his head toward the door, then says, “Cassie’s guards can take the back. August, you mind moving the SUV to give us the element of surprise? They don’t have a doorbell camera so we should be good.”

Is it wrong that I don’t even know the names of my guards? Before Cole, I would’ve known a lot more than the buff men’s names by now. Lately, it doesn’t amuse me or even seem worth the effort to flirt with my father’s men. Yet another reason why I hate my stepbrother.

“Don’t get killed while I’m away,” the biggest man grumbles before walking back to the vehicle.

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