BASTARD: A Stepbrother Romance (These Wicked Games Book 1) Read Free Page A

fear that I’m going to fall to my doom, and quickly step back.
    A menu is placed in my hand. I look at it, then at Cade.
    “If you don’t know what you want, I’ll order for you.”
    “Thanks,” I say quietly. I look around the room, taking in the opulence. I’ve seen places as nice, but only on Pinterest or Apartment Therapy. Or in movies. Never in person.
    It’s bigger than my house.
    It’s bigger than two of them put together.
    “Who else is here?” I ask.
    “Just you and me, little bird.”
    Little bird.
    Maybe it’s almost dying on a psychotic motorcycle-like contraption, but, instead of anger like I felt in the parking lot, a memory of betrayal, here, now, I just feel tears begin to form in my eyes.
    The way he says it, just like he used to. I feel like I’m a kid again, relying on my big brother to protect me. To take care of me. To love me, like my dad and his mom never did or could. Or would. It’s like no time has passed.
    My mom named me Maggie, after the Magpie: “The smartest, prettiest, most resourceful bird of all,” she used to say as she lightly shook my ear and tweaked my nose. I’d always giggle at that. When Cade found out that’s where I got my name, he started calling me little bird. After I moved in with my dad, it was one of the few connections to my mom I had left. I think I cried the first time he called me that after Mom…
    But then I came to appreciate it, to love it. It was something we shared, a secret only we knew.
    And now, hearing him say it here, brings back all those memories. All those emotions.
    I sniff and wipe my eyes.
    Cade walks past me, lightly brushing my bare arm with his fingers as he passes, his touch transmutive, instantly changing the longing I feel into another kind entirely.
    I watch as he goes up the spiral staircase to the second floor. Of the hotel room. Jesus. I didn’t even notice there was a second floor. It must have been too much for my poor, peasant mind to take.
    “Where are you going?”
    “Changing.”
    I swallow. “I’ll just wait here.”
    He looks back at me and raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to see the rest of the place?”
    “Maybe later.” My palms start sweating, and my blood starts to rush downward.
    He shrugs. “Make yourself at home.”
    When he comes back down again, I’m still standing in the same spot. I don’t know if he’s just gotten really fast at changing clothes, or if I spaced out the whole time.
    But I do know that as soon as I see him, I can’t take my eyes off of him.
    He’s wearing a pinstripe suit, that fits him very well. It hugs his shoulders and chest, and I find my eyes drifting to his crotch as he walks down the stairs.
    “Never seen a guy in a suit?”
    He’s in front of me now. I look up into his face.
    “I… I’ve never seen you in one.”
    “My wardrobe has necessarily expanded since I was a rebellious eighteen year old.”
    “You look nice.”
    “Not as nice as you.”
    We stare at each other for what seems like forever.
    Then Cade grins, touches my shoulder, and goes to the large kitchen, where a tablet sits on the island. He turns it on and begins swiping at it.
    After a moment, he says, “I’ll have clothes for you waiting when we land.” He glances up at me. “To better fit the new you.” He leans over the counter, and swipes at the tablet for a few seconds more. “Okay. We fly out in about six hours.”
    “Fly out?”
    He looks up from the tablet, and the way he’s leaned over it, palms on the counter, makes me think of that night, when someone was over me that way. When Cade wasn’t there to protect me. When he wasn’t there to save me.
    I can still smell the alcohol. Still taste—
    I squeeze my eyes shut.
    “Home,” I hear him say. “To SF.”
    I shake my head, eyes still closed, because that’s the only way I can resist him. “Not my home.”
    “And this is?”
    “Not here,” I say, avoiding the question.
    He lets out a bitter sound. “You call that