Page 46 of The Devil's Playground

Hell fucking no. She’s hiding. Hiding her face, hiding the truth…

No. Not from me.

Lifting my hand, I tuck her hair behind her shoulder. Then, once her face is clear, I cradle her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Nic. Who was he?”

Her eyes are panicked. He’s gone, and now that he is, I can see the fear she struggled to hide during their conversation.

“Who is he?” she asks, her voice cracking. “That’s Kieran Alfieri.”

SEVENTEEN

ADMISSION

NICOLETTE

If I thought that Royce McIntyre was going to let me get away with just giving him a full name and that was it, then I haven’t gotten to know him at all these last few weeks.

And since I have… yeah. I was able to get out of telling him just who I mistook him for the night I whacked him with a frying pan, though I always sensed him prying a little, trying to see if I’d slip up and confess things to him that I’ve spent years holding close to my chest.

I know that that’s what I’ve been doing. It’s not even because of him, either. For nearly half my life, Kieran’s been my problem. My secret. First, because he was the cool, older stepbrother who flattered me with his attention. Then, once he convinced me to enter into a relationship with him, we couldn’t let my friends know. My mother know. I was a mature sixteen-year-old, right? They wouldn’t understand that I was grown enough to date a twenty-one-year-old—but he did.

And when we finally went public after I was ‘legal’ and my mom and Dave were no longer married… that’s when secrets of a whole other sort began.

The things he did to me. The things he made me do to him.

Royce doesn’t demand anything from me. He takes what I give, and gives me even more in return. Starting with the morning after when he made me breakfast, all the date nights we had in because he could sense I didn’t want to go out, until he pushed me past my limits tonight and brought me out of town to enjoy Phantom… he’s been perfect.

And how do I repay him? By hiding Kieran until my ex just so happened to find us in Riverside.

Kieran doesn’t leave Springfield. He certainly doesn’t hang around musical theater venues… but he was here tonight, and he saw Royce—and, more importantly, Royce met him.

Damn it!

Dinner’s out. Obviously. I don’t have any appetite, and Royce’s face tells me that sitting down to a meal is the last thing he wants to do at this moment. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. He just places his arm over my coat—just about daring me to shake him off again—before guiding me back toward where his car is parked.

Talk about an awkward wait for the valet. Part of me is waiting for Kieran to pop out again, see Royce’s arm slung over my shoulder, and question my ‘he’s my boss’ lie. The other part wants to explain, to apologize, to justify, something, but when I try, Royce shakes his head, murmuring, “We’ll talk in the car.”

The wait is awkward, but it’s not that long. The fifty he slipped the valet to cut the line probably helped, and if any of the other patrons bitched that we got helped first, they shut their traps when Royce’s head shoots over his shoulders, glaring at any whisperers.

He nods at the valet, just about snatching the keys from the kid before striding toward the passenger’s side of the car. As obviously pissed off as Royce is, he doesn’t forget his manners. Holding the door open for me, he stands there and doesn’t move until I take my seat.

I wince and, knowing this is unavoidable, do just that. Royce makes sure I’m tucked inside, shuts the door with more force than probably necessary, and stalks to his side.

I expect him to bombard me with questions about who Kieran is as soon as we drive off. Though I know he wants to do, he plugs in an address to his phone—Paradise Suites, I notice, not my place—and starts down the road.

Five minutes. I make it five minutes in the tense car before I blurt out, “It’s not what you think.”

Royce’s jaw is tight. His eyes are straight ahead, locked on the road, as he says, “Funny that, since I have no fucking idea what I’m supposed to think. Tell me, Nic. That guy… I got his name, yeah, but you never really told me who he was. Is he really your brother? Sorry. Step-brother? Or is he your step-brother the same way I’m your boss?”

I knew from the expression on his face earlier that calling him my boss bothered Royce. And while he is, we both know damn well he’s more than that.

But that’s the thing. I didn’t want Kieran to know that.

“He is my step-brother,” I begin.

He snorts. “Darlin’.”

I flinch.

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