Page 15 of Her Devil

His attention flicks briefly to one of the other guys before coming back to me. He takes his time leaning back in the chair, his interested gaze sliding down the length of me and back, his tongue tracing along the edge of his bottom lip with interest.

Part of me wants to push him, to test the boundaries and find out if the rumours about the twins that play together are true, but one brief glance at the murderous look his brother sends my way and it’s clear that’s not on the table.

“I’ll drive,” I say, my phone vibrating in my pocket. “But I can only fit three in my car.” Grabbing it out, I check the name before answering. “Be right back.”

I don’t know if anyone registers my comment about driving, or about me leaving the room, my focus solely on the ticking time bomb in my hand.

“You good?” my father asks as I answer, the words clipped out.

“Yeah, gimme two,” I reply, stepping out of the room. I check the movie room is empty before slipping in and closing the door behind me, my heart rate picking up. “I’m clear. What’s up?”

There’s no reason for him to be calling me now.

I’m here and doing exactly what I’m supposed to be.

So why is he on the other end of the phone?

“Just checking in.” He says it as if he calls me every day for a chat and a catch-up, like this is standard practice. “How was your first day?”

“Oh, just marvellous. One of the guys braided my hair and we’re about to head out for cocktails,” I reply dryly with a roll of my eyes. “Inductions started, I passed the first challenge. They even used me to make an example of someone, which I think has rubbed one or more of these guys the wrong way, but who cares?”

“Well, it sounds like you’re settling in nicely then.” He chuckles, the throaty sound gruff over the phone line, not that it’s ever been much better in person. “Are you coping without Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum?”

“Yes,” I grit out. His conscious decision to keep my two best friends with him rather than letting them come with me was more than a bone of contention between us—one of many, I suppose.

“Don’t fuck this up. I’ll be in touch soon.”

The line goes dead in my hand.

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I mumble before checking my messages, hoping to hear from one of them. But there’s nothing.

He only wanted to check I’d been picked up and made it through. As if there was any other option. Unlike the rest of these fools, I know exactly what I’m walking into, and what I’m going to need to do.

I could take bets on which guys will be left at the end, but I’m afraid I’m starting to like more than one of them, and I’m not sure I’m ready to admit they’re not going to last.Frustrating.

Quietly, I make my way back to the den, falling back into the seat, apple in hand. Everyone else is picking straws from Taylor's closed fist, his smile triumphant as he opens his hand to a full one.

Everyone else lines them up, an irritated growl tumbling from Nick when he realises he’s going to drive. Don’t get me wrong, I like a drink as much as the next guy, but my life has always been way too unpredictable to allow myself too much. Got to be able to defend yourself at the drop of a hat, and you can’t do that half-cut.

“Unless you can get six in Nick’s car, you’d better pick someone else too,” I comment, finally taking a bite of the apple and sitting back in the chair.

“You can take mine,” Taylor comments. “The Discovery is battered anyway, what’s another dint or two between friends.”

We’re not friends. I only know his surname because it was written on the door over from mine when I got here. And whilst he’s happy to make friends and play the game, I’m here to win.There’s no other choice.

“Sure.” I shrug.

“Great,” Nick growls, glowering in my direction like I cut the straws and suggested playing their dumb-ass game.

I don’t know if it’s just because I was the one to do it, or because someone kicked his pretty brother’s ass, but the guy has a chip on his shoulder big enough to build a house on. Well, lucky for him, taking him down a peg or two will be my pleasure.

“Everyone ready?” Jasper asks, looking around the room.

“Shall we start the party early?” George asks, pulling the baggie from his pocket. Excitedly, a couple of people join him, the line being cut thin with probably as much additive as you can manage, if the slow dilation and the sated shake of his head is anything to go by.

Just because you have money doesn’t mean you’re getting the good shit, and I’ve seen first-hand what a clean hit looks like. That isn’t it.

Taylor throws the keys in my direction before I bin the apple core, heading to the garage along with everyone else.

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