Page 114 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

“Breathe,” I whisper.

He lets out an exhale. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Let’s worry about how your brother will react to me walking into his room.”

I snort. “Right. Last time you saw him, you goaded him into punching you.”

We get a few weird looks at that statement.

The doors slide open on our floor, and we hurry down the hall.

Dad is in the hallway, waiting for us. Well, he’s waiting for me.

I don’t think he expects Eli to be beside me.

He definitely doesn’t expect it, because he strides forward, meeting us halfway, and cocks his fist back.

Eli sees it coming. He has to.

But he sets his jaw, and a muscle tics.

A split second later, Dad’s fist smashes into Eli’s face.

28

Eli

One Year Ago

Riley made a new friend.

It’s the first time I’ve allowed myself to pay attention to her.

Liam jostles my arm, pulling my focus.

Good. After what happened last year, she’s refused to even look at me. I don’t want her to know that I stare when I can. My body aches at the thought of never talking to her again.

It’s time to show some goddamn resolve and tell her I had nothing to do with that humiliating party last year.

Amelie pinned it on me. Of course. Because Amelie is a psycho bitch who’s being married off to a DeSantis—one of the biggest known Mafia families in New York City—and she’s decided to take her anger out on literally everyone.

Maybe it’s because I wouldn’t date her friend, Jackie. She wanted us to double date—her and Caleb, me and Jackie.

Yeah fucking right.

No way in hell would that happen.

Caleb’s been torn up about Margo Wolfe for years, to the point of stalking her, and now she’s back at Emery-Rose. Their little fling was over the moment she left for Paris to study abroad… but really, I’m pretty sure the exchange student shtick was just to get away from all of us.

“Dude,” Liam says, flicking my ear.

I smack his hand away. “What?”

We’re headed to a table, claiming seats. Cheerleaders have joined us, and Savannah drapes herself over Caleb.

My stomach churns.

He’s an idiot.

Not that I would tell him that to his face—I don’t need that sort of grief.

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