Wicked Game: a Billionaire Stepbrother Romance (18 page)

“…Right.”

“Just like you were with your previous landlords.”

I winced.
 
“Right.”

“But you ain’t never been kicked out of an apartment, because your bills always end up getting paid.
 
Right?”

What the hell?

“…They do?”

She groaned.
 
“Do you not pay attention to anything about your bills?”

Truth be told, I spent most of my time ignoring them as they built up on my counter, too anxious about my inability to pay to face them.

“Eileen, just tell me straight.”

“Your boyfriend has been covering the bills you miss,” she grumbled.
 
“For years.
 
Your previous landlord phoned me in and told me about the whole situation you got set up.
 
The Blackwood boy pays any bills you miss.
 
And we keep our mouths shut and pretend he’s not involved in order to keep you two safe from the press and paparazzi, right?
 
Except now that you two are engaged, I don’t see why we gotta keep it a secret anymore, and….”

I tuned her out again.

The Blackwood boy?

Damien had been paying my bills for years?

Why the hell would he do that?

“How long has this been going on?” I interrupted her in a daze.

“I told you, your previous landlord told me about the whole deal.
 
And he said that he got told by the landlord before that one.
 
I figured it’s been going on since you two started dating.”

“Oh….”

That went back at least five years.
 

But that was impossible.

My fingers shook around the phone as I tried to figure it out and failed miserably.
 
I laid back on the couch, my tired body aching in every bone and joint.
 
Eileen’s voice continued to grumble about how ridiculous it was to pretend this was some big secret, but I couldn’t pay attention.
 
My mind was on fire with the question of how long this had been going on for.

And, more importantly, why.

“Anyway, you think you could get me tickets to Marlene’s show?” Eileen added to finish, tapping the phone with one of her long blue nails.
 
“I love that woman.
 
You seem awkward as hell on TV, though.”

“Bye, Eileen.
 
I’ll call you later.”

I ended the call.
 

I sat back on my ratty couch for a moment, still mulling that over.
 
My heart was racing again, and my palms felt clammy as I wiped them down on my sweatpants.

So that’s why I had magically been able to evade eviction for so long.
 
It wasn’t my lucky stars or the ghost of Dad looking out for me after all.
 
And it sure as hell wasn’t out of the kindness of my landlords’ hearts, though I could hardly blame them for that.

It was Damien.

Always Damien.

Frustrated, I squeezed my eyes shut.
 

Why the hell would he take care of my rent for me?
 
Even before his Dad died and the will was revealed?
 
It couldn’t be as a way to convince me to marry him for the sake of the inheritance—not if both Eileen and the previous landlord had been in cahoots with him.
 
And it couldn’t be that he actually cared about me personally.
 
Otherwise, why wouldn’t he have reached out to me?
 
Why would he have told me to forget about him in the note?

Hating myself, I reached for the phone.

I punched in Damien’s number and sent him a short text.

YOU HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO.

CALL ME.

I collapsed face first into the ancient couch and fell asleep, waiting for the phone’s text beep to wake me up.

The sound of the ancient doorbell buzzing woke me from my place on the couch.
 
I lifted my head to check the phone still clasped in my hand.
 

Damien hadn’t texted me back.
 

Goddamnit.

With a groan, I lifted myself from the couch and slumped to the door.
 
I prayed it wasn’t the boy from the help desk.
 
If there was something wrong with my money and I was getting kicked out, God help me.
 
I might as well just give up if even Roach Motel and Torture Couch decided I wasn’t good enough for them.

I pulled open the door, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat.

“Damien,” I choked.

Damien was in plain clothes again—just a t-shirt and jeans, with his face concealed by sunglasses.
 
I peered around him, checking for paparazzi or press.
 
But there was no one.
 
He hadn’t even used one of his cars, I realized.
 
A battered old pickup was the only thing in the parking lot.
 
He must have rented it.

He was good at evading them.

Unfortunately, he was also good at finding me.

“What do you want, Damien?” I groaned, crossing my arms.
 

My body still ached from the sleeplessness, and my muscles were wracked with soreness from sleeping on the Torture Couch.
 
I could feel the dark circles under my eyes weighing me down.
 
The last thing I needed was to face Damien again.
 

Not while living in roach motel and sweatpants land, at least.

“You said we need to talk,” he said simply.

“No, I texted you.”

“And said we need to talk.
 
So let’s talk.”

I glared at him.
 
I hated to let him anywhere near me, but if I didn’t let him in soon, the paparazzi catch on and show up.
 
The ideas of cameras around right now gave me hives.
 
With a groan, I stepped back and let him slip inside.

I closed the door with my back to him, unwilling to turn around and face him.

“Cleopatra.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He sighed.
 
“Cleo.”

I forced myself to turn around and face him.
 
He leaned back against my counters, crossing his arms as he met my angry gaze.

“Why are you here?” I demanded.

“I’m here to tell the truth.”

“And why the fuck should I believe that?”

“Because my ex-wife has a good claim on my inheritance, and I’m not getting married anymore, which means I’ll lose it all anyway.
 
And now that I’m losing the money, it means I’ve got nothing to lose anymore.
 
I don’t have to worry about Dad, the business, or giving too much away.
 
I can tell the truth because I’m finally free.”

I glared at him.
 
“Free?
 
Because you’re losing your money?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Cleo.
 
About us.
 
If I don’t have to worry about the business, I can finally tell the truth to you.
 
We don’t have to worry anymore.”

“The only thing I’m worried about is being stupid enough to believe you.”

He groaned but nodded.
 
He hung his head.

“I’ll take that,” he said.
 
“I get it, I deserve it.
 
I lied.
 
I admit it.
 
But let me tell you the truth at least.
 
I’m not asking you to forgive me or accept me.
 
I’m just asking you to let me make it up to you by finally telling you the truth.”

I glared at him.
 

“You said I have some explaining to do,” he reminded me.
 
“So let me explain.”

I swallowed.
 
Did I trust him?
 

Hell no.

But this was probably the closest I’d ever get to the truth.

“I ask, you answer,” I said.
 
“No exceptions.”

He nodded shortly.

I sat down on the couch, resting my head in my hands again.
 

I had no idea what to ask first, my headache was splitting my skull, and Torture Couch had speared my muscles until they were aching, burning messes.
 
I just wanted to crawl up in a blanket and sleep forever.
 
I hated facing reality, especially when that reality included my stepbrother standing right before me.

Finally, I pulled my face out of my hands.

“I just got a call from my landlady a few hours ago,” I said.
 
My voice was harsh and raspy.
 
“She says you paid for my apartment.”

“She wasn’t supposed to say that.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that.”
 
I frowned and glared up at him.
 
“Apparently she wasn’t supposed to mention it to me because my ‘boyfriend’ wanted to keep it secret.”

“Sounds like a smart guy.”

“And apparently she learned this rule from my previous landlord, and he learned it from the landlord before that.”

“Sounds like a good system.”

“Cut the shit, Damien.
 
How long have you been doing this?”

He frowned at me, then looked down at the carpet.
 
“Since we were teenagers.”

“Explain.”

“Our parents divorced.
 
I knew your mother and you would be poor.
 
I wanted to make sure you would be taken care of even though Dad wouldn’t allow it.
 
So I snuck money out, and I get tabs on you.
 
I gave your landlords money to ensure you would be allowed to stay wherever you chose even if you missed rent payments.”

“And you did this because…”

“Because it was something small enough that Dad wouldn’t notice, but I knew it would help you.
 
It was easy to bribe landlords into keeping it secret from both you and your mother.
 
And I had to keep it secret, otherwise I risked Dad finding out.
 
If that happened, I wouldn’t be able to help you.”

“Okay,” I said, kneading my temple.
 
“I get how you did it.
 
I’m asking
why
you did it.”

“Because I’m in love with you, Cleo.
 
I wanted to keep you safe.”

“I told you to cut the shit and tell the truth.”

“I am.”

I shook that off and ignored it.
 
“But then why keep lying?
 
Even after Mom and Dad died, why didn’t you tell me you were covering my rent?”

“Dad hated you, Cleo.
 
He threatened me.
 
He knew how I felt about you. If he had found out that I was sending you money, he would have disowned me.
 
I would have lost my inheritance, and if I lost that money, there was no way I could keep helping you.
 
I did it for you.
 
I did it for us, even if I knew you could never know that.”

“Because you wanted to marry me?”

“Well, yes,” he said, frowning.
 
“But not because of the inheritance thing.
 
I didn’t find out about that until the lawyers read out the will.”

I shook off the marriage bit.
 
“And then you reached out to me…”

“Because Dad was finally gone, and he couldn’t stop me anymore.
 
Because I needed to see you.
 
Because I can’t stand being apart from you for so long.”

“Cut the shit.”

“It’s not shit.
 
It’s the truth.”

I stared into his eyes for a few moments, then hung my head again.
 
“Goddamnit, Damien, can you not be honest for once in your life?
 
Just say it—you wanted to marry me to get the money.
 
You said it yourself.
 
I was the only woman it would make sense to marry.
 
I was convenient for you.
 
Nothing else.”