Page 26 of Sinister Games

“Come on. Spill.”

Walking back to the living area with two cups of tea, I handed her one and sat down on the sofa next to her. Sighing, I realized it might help calm all the chaotic back and forth thoughts in my head if I hashed them out with someone.

“Promise not to get all judge-y?”

“Girl. I told you about that time in the pub loo, right?”

Laughing, I said, “Point made. Okay, so I met him when I almost got run over by a cab yesterday.”

Jane shook her head. “Forgot to look right again?”

“Judge-y!”

She threw up her hand. “Sorry. Continue.”

I told her the whole story, even the part about the panties although leaving out the part about the spanking. A girl had to keep some secrets. I left it at that insanely hot kiss against the wall and him saying he wanted to take me out to dinner tonight.

Biting my lip, I asked, “So what do you think?”

“Seriously? You have to ask?” Ticking the items off on her fingers, Jane replied, “He’s hot as hell, knows how to dress, took you for a super posh meal, and is a good kisser? If you don’t want him, send him my way.”

Warming up to the topic, I smiled over my mug. “He has a cool name too, Richard Payne.”

Jane dropped her mug. Hot tea splattered over both of our laps and the sofa cushion between us. Leaping to my feet, I put my mug on the coffee table and ran to grab the rag we left over the kitchen faucet. Kneeling before the sofa, I began to blot the cushions.

“Are you okay? Did it burn you?”

“Forget about the tea! Did you seriously just say Richard Payne? Payne? Richard Payne?”

My brow furrowed as I scrubbed at the cushions with more ferocity than was necessary. Blowing out a frustrated breath, I exclaimed, “Stop saying his name like that, yes, I said Richard Payne—why?”

Jane raced over to her laptop and brought up Google. I watched as she typed his name into the search bar. Instantly there were countless photos of Richard.

Richard in a tuxedo attending a large gala event.

Richard on a yacht surrounded by celebrities.

Richard at a polo event sitting next to the queen.

Richard looking incredibly handsome in a suit at Prince Harry and Meghan’s wedding, sitting in one of the front pews with the royal family.

Richard skiing in Aspen.

My stomach somersaulted as I pulled the laptop closer.

“Is this your Richard?”

I hated the way Jane emphasized your; obviously he wasn’t mine. I already knew he was probably out of my league, but I didn’t realize we weren’t even in the same solar system.

“How? Who?” I couldn’t even form the question, as I just helplessly scrolled through the countless photos and articles about Richard.

“Girl, he is one of the richest men in the world and a freakin’ duke!”

Looking at Jane aghast, I could only parrot back her words. “A duke?”

“Yes, as in practically royalty, he probably has the queen’s personal mobile number.”

My eyes rested on the bold print under one image, Richard Frederick Payne III, Duke of Winterbourne. He’s a freakin’ duke.

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