Page 69 of Crown of Thorns
“Since when do you not share stuff with me?”
It pisses me off even more.Ipiss myself off even more.
“Don’t. Touch.”
“You wouldn’t keep any secrets from me, would you?”
“Fuck off.” I wipe my mouth clean with my sleeve. Leaning back against the fridge, a slow smile spreads across Arthur’s lips.
“Ahh, come on, spill the beans. I’m your brother, man, you can tell me.”
I snort. “Perhaps you’d notice if you weren’t too busy fucking yourotherbrother.”
His hand flies to my throat, his darkened eyes shooting daggers, nostrils flared. “Keep him out of it.”
“Arthur!” Régis’s smaller hand lands on my brother’s shoulder. “Stop. Please.”
“Merde.” The front door shuts with a loud bang. “Am I too late for the show?”
“Fuck off, Gaël,” Arthur and I snarl at the same time.
His face appears right next to Régis’s, who’s still standing behind Arthur, a hand on his shoulder. His green eyes, painted with black eyeliner, sparkle with mischief. “Now, why would I do that?”
Gaël sighs, throws up his hands, and mutters something about not being paid enough for this before vanishing back inside the dorm.
“You’re hiding something from me.” Arthur’s glare is lethal. “Or someone. You think I forgot you attacking me in Professor Montague's class? I thought we talked to each other.”
“We do.”
“But you don’t. You…” Arthur purses his lips like he wants to say something else. He doesn’t. Instead, he loosens his grip on my throat and walks off.
I get why he’s pissed. Maybe I should open up to him about my relationship with Noah. Stake a visible claim.
But one night at the bar doesn’t change what we’re risking. Noah is still my professor. Letting it spread would set chaos on fire and possibly ruin his career. I can’t risk that. He’d hate me forever.
And just like that, Noah’s back in my mind.
Omido’sThe Rideplays through the place, doing absolutely nothing to extinguish this simmering unrest that sticks to my undercurrent permanently.
Arthur’s right.
I’m not talking to him.
And I’m running out of time.
If his suspicion grows, he’ll tell Dad like the sanctimonious tattletale he’s always been. I’m surprised he hasn’t connected the dots since the classroom incident—but then again, my twin’s probably too busy railing Régis to think straight.
And if Dad knows, he’s going to have his brand-new security team follow me around permanently.
I need more time.
And a plan.
When I see the group of nerds dropping down onto the couch, chessboard set up on the table, an idea forms in my head.
A brilliant idea, if I may add.
“Dominique.”
