Page 144 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

“You’re going to hold more secrets than me, and then I’m going to…” His teeth graze my earlobe.

I shudder.

“I’m not going to lose you,” he says.

“How do you know?” I force him to meet my gaze. None of this running bullshit.

He’s scared of the truth. He’s scared of what my dad has to tell me.

And I swear, at my question, his eyes darken.

“Because if I do lose you, I’ll go down whatever fucking dark hole you bury yourself in, and I will find you. I will bring you back.”

He kisses me, silencing any other questions. His lips are rough. His tongue claims my mouth. I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him flush against me.

I don’t know what my father could possibly say to make me want to run from this, but I shove it out of my mind.

That’s the point.

Tonight is about us.

A hello.

A goodbye.

A promise.

36

Margo

“Name?”

I swallow. “Margo Wolfe.”

“Who are you visiting?”

“Keith Wolfe.” I clear my throat, beyond nervous.

The guard on the other side of the glass is bored. There are other people—families, single people, men and women in business attire—scattered around the waiting room.

She types on the computer in front of her and grunts. “You’re not on the list.”

“The, ah, what?”

“The approved visitors list. Wait here.” She gets up and disappears into a back room.

I wait. A minute, then two. Five.

Caleb insisted on dropping me off this morning. He didn’t think anything of it when I mentioned they might be suspicious—I was supposed to sleep over Riley’s house, after all. Through the night and into the morning, he was unusually… handsy. Clingy. I don’t think he ever stopped touching me.

I climbed out of the car in front of my house, and he told me to call him later.

Said he’d be waiting.

I smiled and pretended everything was fine—it was fine, on the surface. Underneath my skin, anxiety was gnawing at me.

And then Robert made me suffer through breakfast. He hemmed and hawed over the weather and what shoes to wear. In the end, he was stalling.

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