Page 3 of Double Dare

The game never used to be so extreme, but the older we got, the bolder the dares became. We could have stopped it, but neither of us fears a challenge, and we’re too hardheaded.

Pushing our limits and seeing what boundaries we could cross was too damn addicting. Like a high we never knew we needed.

But looking at Dario now, I’m starting to suspect even the high from our game wasn’t enough.

He brushes off my comment, acting as if I never even asked, and throws out a question of his own. “How about a game of double dare to celebrate me being home?” he says, almost like he’s read my mind and can hear my thoughts about our game.

I roll my eyes. Of course he wouldn’t give me an answer. He doesn’t want me to play mom even though looking out for him is ingrained deeper in my skin than scars. “We’re too old for games, Dario.”

I answer honestly, hoping that will be the end of the discussion. Because just like he doesn’t like me being maternal and looking out for him, I don’t like being reminded how I stole his happiness by daring him to leave town when that wasn’t my intention.

I won’t tell him the truth though—my pride won’t let me. I won’t tell him how I still feel terrible that it was me who pushed him out of Port Howe. I knew it was what he wanted—to leave and never look back—or at least I thought so, but I never thought Dad would basically disown him with him doing so. I knew he’d be cut off financially because that’s how Dad works, but Dad took it to another level and severed all contact too because I begged him not to hurt him. It was his own form of retaliation because Dario wouldn’t be doing what Daddy wanted.

Dario was supposed to take over his company and worked his ass off for it just so he wouldn’t have to hear Dad bitch, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to travel and explore, but Dad didn’t understand that.

“Since when is twenty-three old?” When I don’t answer, he continues. “I think you’ve just lost your confidence.”

I scoff with a sarcastic smile and another roll of my eyes. If he thinks sly comments will make me agree, he’s wrong. “I’m not doing this, Dario.”

Suddenly, the playful banter he was peddling turns dark. Moving closer to me, he levels his eyes with mine. “Did you forget what you made me do, Danica?” he hisses. “Because of you, I have nothing, and now you can’t even entertain me with a stupid fucking game?”

I rear my head back and cross my arms over my chest. “If it’s so stupid, then why do you want to play? What’s really going on with you, Dario?”

His lip curls before he squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath, and shakes the anger away. “I’m just—” He cuts himself off, stepping away from me and running his hands through his hair. “I’m feeling nostalgic, okay?”

I raise a brow at him and wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He’s stupid if he thinks I can’t see through him, but if he wants entertainment, fine. “Let’s play,” I finally spit back.

I could say no because this only works if I agree, but then again, I have nothing to lose. I’ve been stashing cash, so if anything results in being cut off, I’m fine. I have my own car, my own place. I’m completely self-sufficient. He’s got things twisted if he thinks there is something out there I can’t do.

He gives me a wicked smile, and suddenly I regret agreeing. Something in his dark eyes tells me I made a mistake before the words even fall from his mouth. “Make Adrian Youngblood fall in love with you.”

Adrian Youngblood.

He’s known around here as the boy without a heart, for good reason. His dad, Bruce Youngblood, is a mafia king—although you’ll never hear anyone say that out loud—and Adrian is his protégé. They reign over the city with fear and corruption. When we first moved here when we were ten, Daddy warned us to stay away from them. They deal drugs and guns, murder people, and have every city official you can think of in their pockets.

I bust out with a loud laugh. “Okay. The real dare now.”

His smile drops as he levels his eyes with mine. “That’s it, Danica. Make him love you.”

I back further away from him, then flop onto the couch. “You know that’s impossible. He’s soulless.”

He moves slowly, then sits on the couch next to me. “Nothing is impossible when you’re involved.” I know there is an underlying innuendo to that comment, but I won’t speak on it. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and hands me a piece of folded card stock. “And this is your in. Give him one night.”

I open it and read it’s an invitation to the Youngblood annual gala that’s happening tonight. “How did you get this?” Only the elite are invited, and although our family may be rolling in dough, we aren’t on their level.

“Don’t worry about it. Just find something nice to wear, red preferably, and meet him there.”

I want to ask more questions, like why red? Why Adrian? Is there more to this than you’re saying? I already know the answer to my last question and want details, but he’s up and out the front door quicker than I can take a breath.

I sink further into my spot on the couch. This is clearly some sort of sick joke. A way to get back at me for what I did, but why? I only did what he didn’t have the balls to do himself. He should be kissing my feet and thanking me, not handing me over to the fucking wolves.

I rack my brain for all the possible answers I can think of, but none of them even makes sense to me. The Youngbloods are the most infamous family in Port Howe. Getting into bed with them only guarantees one thing, and one thing only.

Death.

They don’t beat around the bush or take offers from people lower than them, so what the fuck is Dario thinking?

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