Page 132 of Tempting Little Thief

Shaking my head, I look her way, and after a moment, she sighs.

“Maybe I’m mad you didn’t tell me about him,” she admits, lifting a shoulder. “Yet Bronx and Delta seem to know all about the mystery boy from campus. And don’t say it’s Greyson business. It’s not. I’m your sister. Don’t cut me out because I’m foolish. You knew that already, so what’s really changed?” she mocks herself, offering a smile, but it’s fake and full of self-loathing.

“You’re emotional and rash, not foolish.”

She scoffs a laugh, but again, it’s directed at herself. “Are they not the same thing?” she muses, eyes falling to the bubbles in her drink. “For the record, if I knew it was going to end this way, I never would have asked Enzo to meet me.”

Shifting slightly, I give her my full attention. “Why did you really leave, Beeks? Tell me the truth and not the one Dad wants you to.”

The corner of her mouth lifts into a sad smile and she looks toward where he stands. Sadness clouds her features as she returns her gaze to mine, and she tips her head as she reaches out to smooth a loose hair near my temple.

“I knew I wasn’t the queen,” she whispers softly. “But I didn’t know I was the pawn until it was too late.”

I open my mouth to ask her what she means, to demand an explanation, because the ideas running through my mind can’t possibly be anything close to what she means, but then goose bumps rise along the back of my neck, and my eyes are drawn to the entryway.

Silently compelled by some invisible force buried within me, so deep I know there is no removing it.

No …

My face falls instantly, a sick, twisted feeling rolls over in my stomach as a pulsing knot grows thick in my throat, blocking my airway.

My blood turns to ice and then stone, and I must begin to shake as my sister steps in close, the warmth of her palms jolting me as they wrap around my biceps.

“Oh my god, Rocklin.” Her hands move up and down my forearms. “Stop.”

My throat stretches and stretches, the veins in my neck bulging but with no relief.

My heart beats wildly until I feel it heavy at my temples.

“You’re not even breathing! Get your shit together,” she hisses.

My head snaps to hers and I glare, but my sister glares right back.

She nods, my teeth grind together, and I force air into my lungs in short, harsh gasps. After a few seconds, the tightness in my chest settles.

“Hold your chin up and knock this shit off right now because Dad is coming.” She rushes the last part, dipping her fingers into her drink and swiping them along my neck for shock factor.

It works. I jerk, practically gasping as air pushes its way into my lungs and I throw my glass back in one go.

My body heats and I know his eyes are on me, that he found me, but, of course, he did. I’m the reason he’s here.

As I think that, I realize while it is true … it also isn’t, and before I can stop myself before my father reaches me, I spin on my heels, marching right for the boy in black.

His face is sharp lines, soft scars, and utterly unreadable, but the brunette on his arm isn’t.

She smirks and smiles and bats her fake lashes at everyone she walks past, oblivious to what’s coming toward her, but he sees me. I’d argue I’m all he sees, even with the beautiful bitch at his side. Holding on to him. Touching him.

Anger licks across my spine, begging me to unstrap the knife at my hip and send it sailing straight into her chest, but I manage to refrain, pressing forward.

The closer I get, the more those crystal eyes flare, a deep dark dare gleaming within them, wishing me to do whatever the hell it is I’m about to do. Waiting for me to approach him, to come to him.

To claim him for all to see.

Wait, what?!

I jerk to a stop, freezing in the center of the room, and his eyes narrow.

What thehellam I doing?!

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