Page 47 of The Devil's Playground

Royce’s eyes dart over to me. “He’s more than just your step-brother, isn’t he?”

As if my reaction to Kieran’s pet name for me didn’t give it away. “Yes. But… I told you. It’s not what you think.”

“Okay.” Royce pushes a button on the dash, engaging the hazards before coasting over to the side of the road. With the car idling, he shifts so he’s looking at me. “Fine. Then tell me what it is so I know what to think.”

A lump lodges in my throat. I shake my head. “You’ll hate me.”

Royce grips my chin between his fingers, forcing me to meet his baby blues. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous, Nic. There isn’t anything you can tell me that would ever make me hate you.”

I want so badly to believe it. “Kieran is my ex.”

“Ex-stepbrother.”

“No. Ex ex. Like, ex-boyfriend.”

He doesn’t look surprised. “So you dated your step-brother. Is that it? Why is that a problem? You’re not blood-related, right?”

“No. I didn’t even meet him until I was fourteen. That’s when my mom married his dad. Dave. Dave Alfieri. They were together for five years before they divorced when I was nineteen.”

Royce nods. “Okay. And what about the guy? You got together after your parents broke-up?”

Not exactly. “I was with him for eight years. Not that I wanted to be, but because he refused to accept it whenever I tried to break up with him. He…” My voice trails off, but there must be something in my face that tells the true story because Royce’s expression turns murderous.

“He hurt you?”

“Yeah.” Simply put. Yeah. He hurt me in a lot of ways. Emotional. Physical. Sexual… he hurt me. “I was young. He’s got five years on me, and he decided that I was his. And I was… until I left Springfield three years ago in May. I finally got away from him, and I hoped he hadn’t realized I was back when I came to help my mom recover back in August… but, well, it looks like he has.”

And I can only imagine how long he’s been watching me…

Royce’s eyes crease at the corners. I can just about see the gears whirring in his mind as he does the math. “Eight years… what? You hooked up when you were sixteen and he was?—”

“Twenty-one, yup. But Kieran… he only called me his girlfriend once I hit sixteen. He called me his when he first moved into my house.”

“When you were fourteen.”

I nod.

“So he molested you.”

Five years ago, I would’ve denied that’s what he had done. Now?

“I thought he loved me,” is all I say. “I know better now. I cut him out of my life. I haven’t seen him face-to-face since I left Springfield almost three years ago now… until tonight.”

“‘I haven’t given up on you…’ That’s what he said. He thinks you still belong to him.”

I have no other answer to that except for: “Yes.”

Royce gives his head a rough shake. “Fuck that. No. I told you, Nic. You’re not just my lover now. You’re mine. And if that pedo-asshole thinks he has a claim to you? He’ll have to get through me first.”

I want to believe that. For so long, I hoped there was someone out there who might protect me from Kieran, but I learned that the only one I can rely on is myself. To involve anyone else is to put them in the mafia enforcer’s path, and I know that’s a dangerous place to be.

Royce doesn’t.

I try to tell him. I try to confess that one of the reasons Kieran had such complete control over me was because of his status as a member of the Libellula Family.

I never get the chance.

As though Royce has heard everything he needs to, he nods to himself, turns off the hazards, and starts to drive again. And, well, I lose my nerve after that.

---