Page 5 of Cruel Pawn (Cruel Duet #1)

“If I say yes, will you knee me in the balls?”

“No,” she laughed, a soft expulsion of air that made me giddy again. “If I admit I did the same, will you judge me, Arden McFadyen?”

She’d gone home and searched me? She knew my surname? Giddiness turned to butterflies, and a grin crossed my face. I indulged the desire to pull her closer and curved my arm around her waist, guiding her into my side. The feel of her warmth bleeding into me was like a drug, and my eyelids dropped.

“You know my surname,” I said, amused at the quick way she glanced away when I tried to meet her eyes.

I splayed my hand across her hip, far too possessive, but she’d looked me up, wanted to know more about me, and she was here on a date with me.

And sure, it was only one date, but she’d dressed up like a goddess for me, and my mind was already racing ahead.

“I know your surname,” she agreed, glancing across as I guided her through the library, past the towering glass panes that held the king’s library, watching the way her eyes tracked every shelf and spine with covetous greed.

“Say the word and it can be your name, too.” The words flew out before I could caution myself.

Carmen laughed, the bright sound travelling through the high-ceilinged room. She thought I was joking; perfect. She didn’t need to know I was deadly serious.

No one moved to stop us as we passed through the building, to question who we were and what we were doing here. And they damn well better not; I’d dropped a ridiculous sum on getting this building to ourselves for the night.

“Why a library?” she asked after a moment, peering around at our surroundings as I guided her towards the reading room.

Tiffany-blue carpet softened our steps as we walked inside, my arm refusing to move from where it wrapped around her.

It just felt right holding Carmen, like she was always supposed to be at my side.

“Of all the places you could have brought me, why here?”

“Not a library. The biggest in the world.” My correction earned a dry look that I was dying to see over and over again.

It was quickly swept behind a pleasant smile, but I ached for that glimmer of attitude.

I was greedy to climb over her walls, to get through her shields, to see what lay on the other side.

“I might have noticed you carry a copy of Alice in Wonderland when you got your phone from your bag.”

The look she fired my way was difficult to read. Surprised definitely, maybe a little guarded. Or was she irritated? Her eyes had narrowed, but the amber turned to rich caramel.

“Always,” she answered after a moment. The amusement that crossed her face then seemed forced, but I didn’t point that out. I was honoured she’d gifted me a moment of vulnerability, so I just tucked her closer to me and led her deeper into the room.

The reading room was a circular study room beneath a perfectly domed ceiling in duck-egg blue and gold, an oculus of glass allowing just a glimpse of starlight.

Just seeing that duck-egg blue made me want to grind my teeth, memories of my mother pricking my soft brain, but I looked at the beautiful woman beside me and shut them out.

Carmen’s eyes were wide as she turned in place—I followed her, refusing to let her move even an inch away from me—and stared at the ceiling, the bookshelves that ringed the room in a complete three-sixty, the reading desks that were arranged like the spokes of a great wheel, always leading back to the centre of the room.

“This place is incredible,” she murmured, something so aching and real in her voice. “How many books are there here?”

“Too many to count,” I answered, my eyes on her face, tracking every single play of emotion—the brightness of her eyes, the way her smile softened, her features melting with awe.

“But I had one book in particular pulled out for you,” I added, stroking my thumb over the arch of her waist as I led her towards the central table, where a librarian had left a manuscript for us as requested.

Carmen’s breath caught as she made the connections, and her stare shot to me, remaining on my face even as we came to a stop before the table and the original manuscript of Alice in Wonderland.

“I thought you might like to see the original,” I said, my heartbeat frantic at the way she stared at me, something intent and rare in those sumptuous amber eyes of hers. “It was originally written for Alice—”

“Lidell, I know,” she interrupted, staring at me like she’d been expecting a thunderstorm and I’d shown her a clear sky and a bright sunrise.

She tore her gaze away and stared reverently at the manuscript set on the desk, sliding slowly, carefully into the seat I pulled out for her.

She barely breathed, as if oxygen alone might take the pages away from her.

“Shouldn’t someone be here to watch us? What if we damage the pages?” she demanded, but quietly, even her voice a lilting whisper.

“They should be,” I agreed, bending to place a kiss on her glossy black hair before I pulled out a chair for myself. “But money works miracles.”

She shot me an affronted look, which only made me smile.

“Put those gloves on,” she ordered, delighting me with another glimpse of something real behind the walls she had built so tall.

I immediately complied. She could tell me to strip off my clothes and do a handstand, and I’d find a way to do it.

Not that I had the balance or skills required.

And I really shouldn’t have been thinking about getting naked.

“If we’re going to handle this, which we really shouldn’t—”

“We are and we should—”

“The least we can do is protect it from oils when we touch it.”

I groaned. “Carmen, don’t use the word touch.”

She pulled the gloves on, even that movement managing to be sexy. “We’re in a library; you can’t possibly be turned on right now.”

“Everything about you turns me on,” I disagreed, then bit my lip, killing any other confessions.

“Look, all the original illustrations are here too,” I said, swiftly changing the subject lest she think I was a sex-obsessed dick who’d only brought her here so I could sleep with her.

Like sure, I was obsessed with the idea of feeling her orgasm around my dick, but I planned to spend the rest of my life devoted to her, so surely that lessened the fuckboyery?

Carmen pressed a smile between her lips and indulged me by looking at the illustrations. Again, her expression softened to something genuine and tender as she very carefully handled the manuscript, her lips parted as she traced her fingers in the air above the words.

“What’s your favourite quote?” I blurted, needing to know more, needing her voice in my ears, her attention on me. Great, now I was jealous of a book as well as the fabric skimming her body.

“There’s a line,” she replied, her voice a caress on my soul, making my chest ache as she delicately lifted pages until she found what she was looking for. “'If you knew time as well as I do,' said the Hatter, 'you wouldn't talk about wasting it.'”

She kept her eyes on the page, lingering long enough that I skimmed the backs of my fingers over her shoulder and down her arm. “You don’t like wasting time?”

She shook her head, a sigh moving her shoulders. “My grandfather gave me a copy of this book the day after my parents died. I read it every day, cover to cover.”

The sadness in her eyes, the ache in her voice, pulled my own pain to the surface and I ran my fingers lower until I reached her hand, linking our fingers.

Even the soft cotton keeping me from touching her skin to skin couldn’t irritate me when she lifted her face, her eyes meeting mine for an eternity.

I fell into those big, amber eyes, and decided never to climb out.

“Oh, Carmen,” I murmured, stroking my thumb across the back of her hand. “I hate that you’ve had to endure that pain. I know it cuts deeper than anything else in the world. I know how long grief can make you bleed.”

I thought of my father, and the way my whole life ground to a halt when I found out he was stolen from me. But that was a slippery slope, and I had to cut off the thought with a rough jerk before my mind fixated on who exactly stole him.

Something had happened in my split-second distraction; Carmen’s face had changed, her shields back up.

Oh god, what had she seen on my face? The vulnerability I’d glimpsed was gone, the glow in her amber eyes replaced by something soft and sweet but synthetic.

She was hiding from me again. I sighed, my shoulders slumping.

We both jumped when her phone rang, a soft melodic ringtone.

With a fracture in my own shields, jealousy struck, blended with insecurity, and I fixed my attention on her hand as she reached into the small, crimson velvet bag I hadn’t even noticed draped over her shoulder.

I’d been a little preoccupied with the fabric clinging to her hips to notice the thin chain strap.

But I was noticing it now as a phone emerged from its silky lining and her breath hitched as she saw the caller.

An ex-boyfriend? A husband who refused to accept they were separated?

A best friend who wanted to blur the lines and steal my girl from me?

Jealousy spilled through my chest like lava, and venom roiled in my gut.

I was ready to kill whoever was on the other end of the phone, no questions asked. Carmen was mine, and I was keeping her.

“Oh,” she breathed, all the life draining from her eyes right before me.

Her mouth stiffened into a taut line, her jaw clenched until her whole face locked.

“I’ll be there now. Just—tell me he’s going to be okay.

” There was a pause as she listened to whatever bastard thought they could take her away from me, and she nodded, her throat moving up and down as she swallowed.

It took me a moment to register her distress, to realise her whole body had tightened, and her other hand had curled into a fist.

Shit. I unfurled that hand finger by finger, removed the soft glove, and fit my own fingers into the empty spaces between hers. She squeezed my hand like a lifeline, her breaths coming in jagged, broken puffs.

“Alright,” she breathed. “I’m coming now.”

Not a fucking chance was she leaving my sight. I tightened my hand around hers, but when she ended the call, she ripped it free with surprising strength. I stared at my empty hand for a moment too long, allowing her to jump out of the seat.

“I’m so sorry, Arden, I have to go. That was the vet. There were complications with Mango’s surgery and—I have to go. I’ll text you, okay?”

All my jealous rage fled, leaving a cold knot in my belly. The thought of me standing in her shoes, getting a terrifying call that there’d been complications with my baby’s surgery… Carmen had already fled the room, but I was out of the chair in an instant, and in serious pursuit.

She couldn’t have gotten far.

And of course I was going with her.