Page 41 of Cruel Pleasures

Harsh realities we didn’t realize at the time. We’d been immersed in our world of multiplication tables, Barbies and bike rides around the block. Some of us were still young enough to believe it was Santa Claus who climbed down the chimney of our rundown brownstone and left the handful of toys we woke to on Christmas morning.

The cruel truth finally sunk in. Dad didn’t care enough to even say goodbye. He left us like he was getting rid of junk that had become an inconvenience. We were dead weight he didn’t want anymore.

A debilitating realization for a girl who already felt invisible. Who already felt she had to compete with her five sisters for even a crumb of affection.

A rough breath grinds out of me.

It shouldn’t be on Lyra to validate me. To give me the sense of sisterly, familial love I never felt growing up. I already decided I don’t need those things. And yet, every time I think about how she’s vanished out of nowhere, I’m left acutely aware of the deep wound that never healed from childhood.

I wasn’t important enough. I wasn’t good enough.

I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself, and I damn sure wouldn’t put myself in the same position as my mother.

Archer’s eyes gleam like sapphires at the sight of me. His lips curl into the slightest smirk. “I’m surprised you’ve shown up.”

I step toward him, my hips swaying in the sleek, form-fitted dress I’m wearing. “You didn’t think I’d come?”

“After last night’s debacle? Not a chance in hell.”

“You call how many deaths a debacle?”

“You really need to learn to accept the circumstances of the games. Ever heard the saying “when in Rome”?”

He takes my hand and begins guiding me across the atrium. Instantly, I’m acutely aware of the warmth of his touch. I’m perplexed by how the most basic brush of his hand feels so tantalizing. It should be innocent and meaningless, yet on the inside, a tremor rocks through me.

Last night was supposed to be a fluke—Archer’s not supposed to have this kind of commanding effect on me.

I’ve gone from a confident, sassy woman to craving more of his touch. I’m falling into step as he guides me where he wants.

He leads us into one of Hurst Manor’s many formal dining rooms. Several smaller dining tables are arranged at various points throughout the room. The only empty table resides toward the back, next to a wide window overlooking part of the garden.

My chair is tucked into the table once I sit down. Archer moves around to take his own seat.

“I’m impressed,” I say.

“By what, minx?”

“The waltzing last night. Escorting me and pushing my chair in tonight. You’re being a perfect gentleman.”

“And you’re surprised?”

“I’m not sure what I am. We hardly know each other.”

“Then let’s get to know each other. I seem to remember asking you to tell me about yourself.”

His smirk only grows more flirtatious and prompts a funny flip in my stomach. Unlike me, considering I rarely get nervous around men. I never like them enough to get nervous; most men serve a singular purpose in my life and that’s the appendage that dangles between their legs…

Aside from an immature, puppy love boyfriend I had senior year in high school, I’ve never been in a real relationship. A serious relationship.

But it’s not as if Archer is relationship material himself. No man as good looking and wealthy as he is commits to just one woman. He’s wining and dining me to get my panties to drop. If he keeps flirting and touching me like he is, it just might work.

Tension bundles in my neck and shoulders and reminds me how much I need a means to relieve all this stress.

“What’s there to say?” I ask, picking up the glass of water set out before me. I take a small sip to stall for time and to remain elusive. “I’ve been heavily focused on my studies for years. I’m finally done with med school. So I’m hoping to let loose.”

He makes a throaty sound. “Hmmm. Sounds like an endeavor I might be able to assist with. Medical school. Very impressive, minx.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”