Page 13 of Gemini Wicked

While the cameras roll, Lover Boy bears his teeth and hisses at me like a rabid cat.

“By all means, do keep struggling.” I fish out my compact to check my lip gloss. “I can easily keep this going all night.”

“Vasili, my dear,” Lucius murmurs. “I beg that we not make this unfortunate encounter any more of a public scene. Especially since we’re being televised.”

“Oh, so we’re being discreet, are we.” I snap my compact closed and give the entire mess a vicious look.

Cleo sighs something in Italian that sounds exasperated, the poor dear. Then she snaps, “Xiao.” Without even looking at her poor minion.

Abruptly, Lover Boy stills in my telekinetic grip and gives her a narrow look.

“Mr. Romanov,” my headmaster says quietly, which is oh so civil of him. But I know a command from Lucius Aries when I hear one. “I won’t ask again.”

When all’s said and done, he’s still my headmaster. (Except when he bends for me.)

“Oh, very well. Fine.” Pouting, I splay my manicured fingers to release my hostage.

Sneering, Xiao scrambles free of the bulkhead, tugs his clothing into order, and touches the gold chain at his throat.

“Zara. Per favore.” That’s the Ferrari bitch again, never looking away from my girl (who used to be her girl), and quite possibly wanting her back. Cleo’s picture-perfect supermodel face goes soft. “Xiao plays his own game, as always. A game I’ve told him he will not win. Me, I only wish to talk.”

Slowly my girl stops levitating and lets her stilettos graze the floor. But her hair keeps swirling around her shoulders in the psychic wind.

Another chopper roars past. Ronin glares at the thing like he’s seriously tempted to set it on fire. But Lucius’ demand for restraint holds him too in check.

“Then talk,” Zara clips out, glaring at Cleo. “Make it snappy.”

Cleo tries to touch her arm, but Zara knocks her hand roughly aside.

The other girl covers the awkward moment with a smooth shrug. “It is true, yes? I’m not what I claim to be. But I was given no choice.”

Zara shifts her weight impatiently. “What, did my dad hold a gun to your head and order you to take his money? Besides, Lucius told me how the Academy got you on board when he nabbed me in Singapore. Didn’t sound to me like you needed much convincing.”

“You do not wish to be queen, no?” Cleo’s perfect teeth sink into the violet matte of her lower lip. “And I—don’t you see—I have no choice to be anything else.”

I’m really not following all the swirly undercurrents of this overdue tête-à-tête, certainly not with our mating bond all muddy. But Lucius sucks in a sharp breath.

He’s putting all the jagged little pieces of this puzzle together in a way I’m suddenly quite keen to follow.

Zara folds her arms across her chest and scowls at her ex-BFF. “Yeah, sure, I’m not all yippy-skippy about the whole queen gig. But I’m dealing with it. What are you trying to say?”

The Ferrari girl’s mile-long lashes sweep down.

Perhaps she’s genuinely pensive about whatever scandalous secret she’s about to impart. But, more likely, the bitch is deploying the finely honed weapons of deception and misdirection she learned from my fucking father.

Because why waste all that drama?

“For me, this was never about the money. Or the title. None of it.” Cleo shakes back her merlot hair. “Merda! I have a… responsibility… I was never allowed to ignore—”

“What the fuck, Z? We going or staying?” That’s our Racetrack, appearing abruptly at the head of the stairs to the afterdeck where our getaway vehicle awaits.

She and Dez, lucky girls, made it down before the shitshow started. Clearly, they’ve both been biding their time.

RT’s sudden appearance interrupts Cleo’s confession and seems to shatter some sort of spell for Zara too. I know the Ferrari girl meant more to her than a partner in crime, more even than a trusted ally. What I don’t know is how Zara still feels, in her heart of hearts, about the backstabbing bitch.

Or what that backstabbing bitch has planned for Zara.

My little queen glances around at all of us. The pop diva’s fallen silent and is being hurriedly ushered offstage. The choppers circle at a watchful distance.

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