Page 30 of Wicked Princess (Knight's Ridge Empire 2)

“So go on,” Poppy starts. “Tell us everything.”

The three of them stare at me, concern and intrigue filling their eyes and covering their features.

When I don’t immediately start talking, Harley breaks it down a little.

“Who stabbed you?”

Shaking my head, I look down at my nails, picking at the skin that’s received a bit of a battering over the past few days as I run all this shit through my head over and over.

“I don’t know. It seems no one knows.”

“How is that even possible?” Ruby barks. “Someone must have seen something?”

“Whoever it is, it’s got something to do with my father, I’d put money on it.”

“Your dad? Why?” Ruby asks, her brows pulling together.

Blowing out a long, slow breath, I prepare to fill them in on everything I learned in the days leading up to finding myself in the hospital.

“You know how you laughed about my dad being a part of the mafia?” I ask Harley, remembering the jokes we had about it after I helped save her from some psycho from her past earlier in the year.

“He’s not?” she asks, her eyes wide.

“Apparently so.”

“But you’re not Italian,” Poppy points out, much like I had.

“Nope. Greek. My dad moved us back to London and right into the middle of the Greek mafia.”

“Riiight,” Ruby says, rubbing at her brow.

“Trust me, I know. But wait, it’s about to get worse.”

“Christ, Stel. You really know how to bring the drama.”

“One of the guys I’ve told you about. The nice one.”

“Toby?” Harley confirms.

“Yeah. He’s my brother.”

Ruby starts laughing—until her eyes land on me once more and she gets a look at my serious expression.

“You’re not kidding, are you?”

I shake my head.

“Weren’t you lusting after him?” Harley asks, amusement in her own tone.

“I sent you pictures. Can you blame me?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Okay, so how’s this working then? One of you was adopted at birth or…”

“I don’t really know. Just like everything else, it seems to all be secrets and lies, even now I know some of the truth.” I look between the three of them, irritated at Toby for keeping everything close to his chest. He assured me it was for my own good, but I call bullshit.

How is lying to me about where I come from, about my own mother, for my own good?