Page 9 of Vicious Little Games

“Nothing.”

His chocolate eyes squint at me as he comes closer. “Nothing? Is it the same nothing that gave you those bruises on your wrists?”

I glance down at the insides of my pale wrists and then rotate them finding that the shrewd old man is right. Cole gave me two big ugly blue spots over each wrist bone. It’s like the idiot is begging for an early death.

And why is my next thought that I like the marks? Nobody has ever held me tight enough to bruise me before, not even in training or the tournaments, or late at night. I don’t give opponents time to touch me. Saul rarely even lays a hand on me, only when necessary to correct my posture or position since he knows my father watches our recorded sessions.

“I fell,” I lie with a shrug.

“Did you fall into a man’s hands? Because those are thumb and fingerprint bruises.”

“It doesn’t matter where I fell, so drop it before I tell my father you gave them to me.”

The dark-skinned martial arts legend visibly pales in fear of my threat. “It’s dropped. Let’s warm up.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t mention the bruises again while I grapple with the three out-of-shape guards that show up late. And I know Saul won’t say a word to my father about the marks for fear that I’ll just lie and say he’s responsible rather than tell my father the truth.

No, I won’t tell Dante what happened with Cole in the pool. At least not yet. First, I’ll offer my stepbrother my silence in exchange for his.

Cole

As soon as I climbed out of the pool, I walked dripping wet through the penthouse, grabbing my luggage on the way up the stairs to my new room on the second floor.

The bedroom is twice as big as the old one in my mom’s apartment, and three times as big as my dorm room. It has all the essentials—a king-sized bed, a tall dresser, and two nightstands. There’s also a walk-in closet that will look empty after I hang the few clothes I brought with me. And I’m very happy to find that I have my own private bathroom.

Shedding my dripping wet clothes in said bathroom, I toss them over in the tub to worry about later, then pull my laptop from my luggage to send a message to Shane to let him know I won’t be staying with him, and then I order a new cell phone.

Being able to just order the replacement of the thousand-dollar device with a click of a button is a brand-new feeling for me. Before my mom inherited her mobster father's money, the unexpected expense of a new phone would've sent me into a full-blown panic. It would've taken days, if not weeks, to come up with the cash to get a new one, and then I would buy the cheapest device in the store. I would've lost sleep over being out that much cash for something as stupid as being pulled into a goddamn pool.

Now, well, I don't like using what little of my grandfather's blood money my mother dumps into a bank account for me to use, mostly for tuition, and so I won't have to "work" during the summer. But it's worth the guilt to not have to hustle for the next three months than have to keep it up while juggling the final year of courses for my business admin degree.

Once the phone shit is taken care of, I make a note to figure out a way to pay Cass back for this, and soon. Then, I head out to the hallway to speak to the two grumpy-looking guards at the front door needing to find out who she’s fucking.

I should be worrying about how to make twenty thousand dollars fast, and instead, I’m wasting time on this shit.

“Hey, could you send, um, what’s his name?” I scratch the top of my damp head, trying to remember who is in charge of Dante’s guards. It starts with a T… “Titus. Can you send Titus a message for me?” I ask them.

“Why?” The scowls on both of their stern, meathead faces tell me exactly how they feel about me, a nobody whose mom married their boss, giving them orders.

“I have a few questions for Titus, and I don't have his number. He's in charge of casino security, right?”

“Yeah. But he isn't going to want to talk to you.”

“Either give me his number or I'll ask Dante, who is currently killing a man in the basement, and I might also slip and tell him that his day guards were eyeing Cass in her bikini a little too long.”

“Fuck you. We haven't even been inside the penthouse or near the pool today.”

“My word against yours.” The fact that they don't deny seeing Cass in her skimpy bathing suit, only that it wasn't today, is telling. Maybe it’s one of these pricks who is screwing her.

Nah.

If I had to bet, it’s probably someone who works the night shift. Her father, my mother, and her sister would be around too much during the day to try and sneak around.

The guard who hasn’t said a word to me finally caves, pulling out his phone to ask, “What number should we tell Titus to call?”

Well, fuck. My new phone that’s being overnighted won't be here until tomorrow.

“Just see where he is, and if he's in the casino. Tell him I'll just come to him.”

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