Page 34 of Let the Game Begin (Kiss Me Like You Love Me #1)

Selene

After the movie was over, we talked for about an hour until sleep started to overtake us.

After telling my boyfriend goodnight, I walked down the massive upstairs hallway, staring down at the luxurious marble floor as though all my sins were engraved upon it.

I couldn’t tell Jared the truth. I just couldn’t, not with the state of mind he was in.

But this realization brought me no peace. The weight I felt was growing by the minute, and I had discovered that I was actually quite good at lying, which was a skill that I’d never thought I had before.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realize that I’d stopped in front of one of the many rooms in the house, one that usually remained locked.

That night, however, the door was slightly ajar.

I stepped up to, fully intending to close it, but a sudden instinctive urge stopped me.

Instead, I peered into the crack and saw that no one was inside.

So I put one hand on the cool surface of the wood and pushed it open.

It felt like I was infiltrating a sacred temple, a forbidden place.

I had noticed this room during my first few days in the house.

It was at the end of the hall across from Matt’s office and cloaked in an inexplicable aura of mystery.

It had been Anna herself who told me that no one was allowed to go inside.

A prohibition that I was currently ignoring.

I groped for a light switch on the wall, and when I found it, a basic room appeared before me, not much different from a home office.

There was a leather divan in ivory underneath a large window.

A large mahogany desk presided majestically over the center of the room, clean save for an empty pen holder on top.

What was odd, however, were the numerous boxes left haphazardly all over the floor.

I coughed at the thick dust floating in the air and knelt down in front of a random box and rubbed the tip of my nose.

I opened the box easily—the flaps weren’t even sealed.

Then, I pulled what appeared to be a photo album out of it.

I ran my hand over the rough surface of the cover before leafing through it, seeing numerous old Miller family photos.

I smiled when I got to one of Logan and Neil as children in a garden. The former was chasing the latter, pretending to be an airplane or maybe an eagle, I couldn’t tell. In the background, Mia smiled as she displayed her round belly. She must have been pregnant with Chloe.

I kept browsing and found another photo that featured a tall man with raven-colored hair and deep blue eyes smiling into the camera lens.

He was wearing a lightweight shirt that showed off his slim, toned physique, and I assumed this had to be William Miller.

His right arm was around young Logan’s narrow shoulders and his left hand was buried in the pocket of his slacks.

On his left side, young Neil stood with his head down, staring at the garden.

He looked as though he might be feeling left out and wasn’t enthusiastic about being photographed.

He was wearing a blue tank top with Oklahoma City written on it and matching shorts that didn’t hide his dirty, scraped-up knees.

His golden eyes were fixed on the bright green lawn.

His father appeared oblivious to his son’s mournful expression.

I touched the photo with my index finger, touched his gleaming eyes.

In that child, I recognized the person I had seen rocking in a corner of his room after fighting with Logan.

My chest grew tight with hurt. I knew almost nothing about Neil, but I felt so close to him, so connected with him that it seemed that I could feel his heartrending pain inside myself.

Before I could put the album back in the box, though, something else caught my eye.

Something much more interesting than family photos.

A stack of newspapers covered the bottom of the box.

I grabbed one and read the front page headline: “The Children of the Dark Side.” I scowled, and with the speed of a thief who is about to be caught red-handed, I rifled through the papers to read the headlines underneath.

“Who Is the Shadow Man?”

“Scandal in New York”.

“Children of Darkness.”

I pressed my hand over my lips to stifle any noise of shock. I wanted to read through these articles and learn more but a sound from the hallway had me hastily closing up the box and getting to my feet.

I ran to the light switch and flicked it off, holding my breath.

I leaned closer to the crack in the door until I could peer out into the hallway.

Anna was doing a walkthrough of the house, probably checking that she’d finished all her assigned tasks.

She hadn’t yet realized that the mystery room was unlocked, but it obviously wasn’t safe for me to stay there.

So, after making sure she wasn’t looking in my direction, I scurried down the hallway and took refuge in my own room, shutting the door behind me.

What were those newspaper headlines about? Could it be related to Neil’s strange behavior? It was obvious that something had happened to him and his family, but I still didn’t know exactly what that was. It was difficult to guess from the few ambiguous pieces I’d seen.

Nevertheless, I was positive that I would solve this mystery. I just needed more time. I was even more determined now, but truthfully, since the moment I met those shining, shadowed eyes I had known perfectly well that Neil was hiding a history that I needed to uncover.

I sighed and toed off my shoes. Then I reached behind my back and tried to unzip my dress as I walked over to the vanity.

I was disturbed and pensive in a way I’d never been before in my life.

It felt like fate had a design for me and that my meeting with Neil had been meticulously planned by some sort of trickster god.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a good ten minutes, Babygirl.”

I let out a shriek of terror when I spotted Neil in the mirror behind me. He was standing motionless beside my bed.

He smiled at me, and I lost the ability to speak. I swallowed thickly and waited for him to make his move. I knew for certain that I wasn’t capable of taking even one step toward that tantalizing body.

Neil, however, had nothing but time. He appraised me lazily before approaching me at a languid, feline pace with all his usual dominance and certainty.

Little by little, his smell of amber and tobacco surrounded me.

My eyes remained locked on his the entire time, lustful, yes, but above all else dangerous.

“Turn around,” he demanded, and I obeyed like a puppet on a string. I feared him. I didn’t want to challenge him, but at the same time, I was enthralled by him.

On the one hand, having my back to him helped me maintain a clear head, albeit with some difficulty.

On the other hand, I had no idea what he intended to do back there, and that sense of unknown expectation only intensified the feelings I had until it seemed like I could drown in them.

“Why are you here?” I asked in a small voice, unmoving.

“To fuck you,” he answered boldly, right next to my ear. I could feel his chest pressing against my back and his fingers brushing my tensed arm. His breath was warm and controlled, as though nothing in the world could make him lose his self-possession.

“You’ve already done that.” I trembled as I said it. I wasn’t trying to provoke him, though I realized that he might have taken it that way. I stiffened when his hand touched the zipper on the back of my dress.

“Not the way I wanted to,” he whispered, slowly opening the zipper as though I were some china doll to be handled delicately.

I remained motionless, at the mercy of his movements, and I was ashamed of the way I submitted so easily to his every command, but at the same time, I found myself unable to oppose him.

I wanted to turn around and look him in the eyes, maybe kick him out and tell him to stop touching me.

But I was afraid that he’d see what I really wanted written all over my face, and I wanted to hide it for as long as I could.

“You aren’t hurting for women; why do you want me?

” I felt his hand stop at the base of my spine.

Neil wasn’t expecting such a blunt question.

I turned my face slightly, resting my chin on my shoulder and waiting for a response that never came.

Instead, he inhaled irritably through his nose and continue to undress me.

He let my dress slide down my body until it was just a crumple of fabric around my ankles.

Why was I letting him do all of this? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was clay in his hands, and he was the sculptor. I was the canvas to his painter, the sheet of blank paper to his ink.

“You should watch out for feelings—they can affect the coldest of hearts. Even yours,” I continued, trying to needle him even as my body was moved by involuntary tremors. By now it was clear to me that he was no more indifferent to me than I was to him.

“Are you thinking I’m some sentimental guy just because I was considerate with your body the first time, little virgin?” he whispered into my ear, and I didn’t like the derisive tone of his voice.

I shouldn’t have let him talk to me that way. I wanted to snap back at him, slap him or even kick him in the balls, but when I tried to turn around and do just that, Neil grabbed me violently by the hair.

“What the hell are you doing?” I screamed, beside myself with fear and rage. I tried to struggle free from his grip, the way his fingers clamped down on my hair was painful. I cursed and shouted but none of it made him stop.

Neil swept the books off my desk and forcibly bent me over it. My chest, still covered by my bra, flattened against the cold surface. My ribs and hipbones collided with the wood so hard that I clenched my teeth in pain.