Page 35 of Twisted Play (Cruel Games #1)

EVA

I tugged at my hair, smiling at my reflection in the mirror as I adjusted my strapless bra. A strappy sun dress lay on my bed, the same green as my eyes, to emphasize my curves without making me look like I was trying too hard.

Not that this was a date. Tristan promised me it was just shopping—errands—when he’d called me last night to arrange it.

I couldn’t date Tristan, no matter the warmth that took up residence in my chest when he carried my bag for me, or the butterflies that erupted in my stomach when he pushed a strand of hair out of my face, or even the heat in my core when he tugged on my hair to kiss me. Not while Cole?—

My phone buzzed.

Cole

Wear something pretty for Tristan, like that cute plaid skirt you wore the other day when you finger fucked yourself in the front seat of my car.

Me

Go fuck yourself.

Cole

Don’t make me ask twice, sparrow.

No panties.

Me

Tristan will notice.

Cole

I hope so.

I pressed my thighs together, hating the secret tendril of relief that wound around my soul at the thought of giving up control to Cole. God, the thought of letting go for just five minutes, of the utter bliss of not having to worry about fifteen thousand things at once, made me ache with longing.

A car door slammed outside. Through the gap in my curtains, I watched Jedediah Carter emerge from a sleek black Mercedes. He tugged on his jacket, straightening a suit that no doubt cost as much as our mortgage. He sneered at the herbs I cultivated out front before his eyes swept upstairs.

I darted away from the window, swearing softly.

My hands trembled as I yanked my dress over my head, praying Carter wasn’t coming to extract payment for the debt. “Dad!” I called out. “We have company.”

Downstairs, I found my father opening the door for Carter, who strode in like he owned the place, taking in the photo frames over the brick mantel, the faded fabric of our furniture, and my father standing in front of him, his body tense and furious despite his broken ribs and nose.

“Good morning, Conrad. How’re the ribs?” Carter’s tones were cultured and modulated, hiding the menace behind them.

My father’s face went ash white. “Mr. Carter, please?— ”

“Still bothering you?” Carter’s voice dripped with false concern, as if it wasn’t his employees who broke my father’s ribs. “Funny how these old injuries never quite heal properly.”

I looked between them, catching an undercurrent I didn’t understand. My father wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Shit. How was I going to play this, hide what I was doing from my father?

“Dad, would you get Mr. Carter a drink?” I asked.

Carter’s eyebrows hit his hairline, but he didn’t say anything as my father looked at me suspiciously.

“Now, Conrad,” Carter snapped, and my father hurried out of the room.

“What do you want?” I asked.

Carter turned to me, his expression cold and haughty. “You have access. Use it.”

“I’m trying?—”

“Not hard enough.” He pocketed his phone. “I need Cole’s medical records. All of them. By tomorrow night.”

My stomach churned. “That’s private?—”

“Privacy.” Carter laughed. “Such a fragile thing. Like kneecaps. Like hearts.” His eyes fixed on my chest, where my surgery scar lay hidden. “How is your recovery going, by the way?”

I flinched.

“You have twenty-four hours.” He walked to the door then paused. “Oh and, Eva? Don’t make me wait.”

My father arrived with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, only to find the door slamming shut behind Carter.

Dad collapsed into a chair, trembling. I’d never seen him look so defeated—not when Mom left, not during my surgeries, not even when the debt collectors started calling.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. ”

I wanted to ask about the obvious history between the two men, but Tristan would be here in thirty minutes. I still had to fix my makeup, find a way to smile, and pretend everything was fine. God, I was tired.

I eyed myself critically in the mirror. I looked like a fucking snack, and you know what? I was okay with it. And I wore underwear—cute underwear—because fuck Cole, fuck my fear, and fuck trying to climb into Tristan’s Jeep without flashing the entire fucking world.

A horn honked outside, and I flew down the stairs, stopping in front of a mirror in the entranceway to check my reflection one last time—cool, calm, and collected, the only sign of my stress my slightly flushed cheeks.

“Going out, Dad!” I called, hoping to avoid a conversation with him. I couldn’t, not after the visit from Carter.

He leveraged himself up from the couch, groaning in pain. I rushed over to help him. “Dad,” I whispered. “Sit.”

Dad looked down at me with affection shining in his eyes. “Sweet girl,” he murmured. “You do so much for me.”

Messy emotions swirled through me—a toxic miasma of love, resentment, and hopelessness as I helped my father walk to the window, where he peeked out the curtain.

“Something you want to tell me?” he asked with a smile.

I pressed my lower lip between my teeth, not sure what to say and unwilling to share my confusion over Tristan Baptiste.

Tristan climbed out of his car, and I rushed out the door, eager to avoid the initial meeting between him and my dad. There’d be no pretending I didn’t like him after that—not that I was pretending, not really.

Tristan opened the door for me, and I slid into the seat, not as gracefully as I would have liked.

“You look good,” he said, leaning over me to buckle me in, not even pretending he wasn’t using it as an excuse to run his fingers over my stomach, my thighs, my side.

My heart sped up as goosebumps spread over my skin.

“And you wore a sundress,” he murmured. “Fucking temptation personified.”

I lifted my chin. “I don’t dress for you.”

He bent forward to brush his lips against mine in a move so sweet, I didn’t know how to react except to kiss him back.

I tangled my fingers in his curls, loose for once instead of in tight braids, and held him to me before nibbling on his lip, his gasp of pleasure zipping straight to my clit like a bolt of electricity.

Tristan smiled against my lips then pulled away from me. Then he came back for a hard press of his lips against mine.

“Gonna give you everything you deserve,” he said, his golden eyes bright. “Starting with coffee.”

Cole

Well? Let me see.

Me

I’m in the car. Fuck off.

My phone pinged again, this time in the group chat Tristan had created for him, Cole, and me. It sat mostly silent—my relationship with each of them was separate.

Cole

Sparrow, take a picture.

Tristan’s eyes flipped to the message where it slid down over his GPS.

He took his eyes away from the road to look at me, surprise darkening his eyes. “What is going on between you two?”

Your best friend is blackmailing me for blow jobs in exchange for not telling anyone I’m sharing information on the team with his father, who is also blackmailing me.

I opened my mouth to tell Tristan how fucked up Cole was, but I couldn’t choke the words out of my throat. I didn’t have the right to fuck up their friendship—not when I was already so close to ruining so many lives to save my father’s.

When I didn’t say anything, Tristan ran his hand up my leg. “Did you wear this dress for me, or for him?”

How could I even begin to answer that?

He yanked the car over to the side and aggressively parked before snatching his phone off its holder. With his hand so high on my thigh, you could almost see my panties. He held the phone up high enough to catch the view of my bare legs in the frame.

“Who’d you wear the dress for, Eva?” he growled again, cupping my core and sending need rolling through me like lava. My eyes flew to the phone. No. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“Tristan, please don’t,” I gasped as he ground his palm into my pussy. My hips canted toward him. “Someone will see.”

“That’s right,” he snarled. “They’ll see you’re mine.” His possessiveness should have horrified me, but instead, warmth bloomed in my chest, a feeling of security.

“Now let’s take a picture and show Cole what he’s missing.”

“What he’s missing?” I whispered, ashamed, annoyed, and more than a little bit turned on.

“You. Sexy, stunning, gorgeous you, Eva. Don’t you want to make him jealous of me? ”

Did I? Fuck yes, I wanted Cole to feel like he was missing out.

I leaned toward Tristan, angling my arms so they pushed my breasts together, feeling sexy as hell, their attention doing more for my self-esteem than anything else they’d done. Tristan snapped the picture of the two of us and sent it to the chat.

Cole

Good girl.

“Fuck you,” Tristan snapped with his thumb on the mic, sending it as a voice message.

Cole didn’t respond.