Page 81 of A Lethal Game of Trust

Other than last year with Mia, he would have baked by himself all these years.

Each birthday, without fail, he always arrived with an awful cake.

But who did he have to bounce ridiculous ideas with? He was too private and stern to go to a friend for advice on icing.

Once, he’d even been embarrassed about his dad seeing.

He pressed a kiss into my neck, his hands on my hips as I washed my hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said and walked to the counter, starting to measure out the ingredients for the icing because I needed to blink the tears away before he saw.

I didn’t want Dom to be alone anymore.

Once the mixture was in the oven, he turned to me and pinned me against the wall, my hands above my head. “I’ve missed this,” he said, looming over me. “I’ve missed us being friends.”

Because that was all we were ever going to be.

Friends.

I’d wanted more at sixteen, and now…

I wanted more.

But it wasn’t something I could spend my time thinking about.

“Me, too,” I said and, on my tiptoes, reached to kiss him.

We scrolled through Pinterest for awful cake-decorating ideas.

This year, Issy had become obsessed with Mario Kart. A Princess Peach was definitely on the cards. Searching through our cupboards, I found red food colouring and we got to work on making the icing.

The cake was a mess of smears. Her hair was a mixture of pink and yellow, coming out an orange-peach colour and her dress dripped down the sides.

“You’re winning this year,” I declared as we looked down at our handiwork.

“This rivals even Yoda,” he said, his voice in awe at the monstrosity.

I laughed and got up the pictures of our inspiration to compare.

He took my phone with his icing-covered fingers and scrolled. “Maybe we should actually try and make a good cake. I wonder what we could do if we tried. Friday? You can stay round ‘cause Is will be gone and then we can drive up together Saturday…” He frowned and tilted my chin up to look at him. “What?”

“I, er, have plans then,” I mumbled, really wanting to look away. I could have said it without giving it away if I was less awkward, more casual, and a better actress.

But as I forced my eyes on him, I saw the recognition on his face. His jaw slid back and forth as he glared down at me.

I had never been scared of Dominic Belov and I didn’t think I ever would be.

His expression had me swallowing for another reason. I’d upset him.

“You’re still going on that date with Jack,” he said simply. He removed his grip on my chin.

“Yes.”

I went to reach for him but stopped myself. I couldn’t trust myself around him. As much as I couldn’t trust him.

“This is— it’s too complicated, Dom.” I laughed to ease some of the tension. “I’ll end up liking you soon enough and this is already complex.”

“You’lllikeme?” he asked, the words he threw at me loaded with such disgust I could drown in them.