Wicked Game: a Billionaire Stepbrother Romance (19 page)

“Jesus, Cleo, you bought that bullshit?”

His eyebrows flew up in disbelief.

“I was already married to Audrey, and she wanted us to get back together.
 
If all I needed was a wife, she and I could get hitched again in a legal ceremony within three days.
 
The inheritance thing was just an excuse.
 
I needed to be around you again.
 
The arranged marriage scheme was the only way I could convince you to see me again.”

“Selfish.”

“I know.
 
I’m not trying to excuse it.
 
It was a lie, and it was shitty.
 
But I didn’t
want
to lie to you—it was just the only way I could see you again.”

I let that sink in.
 
Damien had been keeping tabs on me since we were teenagers, acting as my guardian angel.
 
Covering my rent, keeping me safe.
 
Coming after me and sweeping me off my feet the second his Dad was dead.
 
Reuniting us.

It made sense, but I refused to believe it.

I refused to believe
him
.

“Fine, Damien,” I said, standing up and looking him in the eye.
 
I was tired of the lies, of the bullshit, of the schemes.
 
I just wanted honesty for once.
 
“Then answer one more thing.
 
What about the letter?
 
If you missed me so much, and if you were so sorry to leave, why the hell would you leave that letter?”

“Letter?”

“Don’t act dumb, goddamnit!” I shouted.

My eyes stung.
 
I could feel tears building in my eyes already.
 
Just mentioning the letter was too painful, especially now after all this betrayal.
 

“Just answer the question, Damien.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A tear dropped down my face.
 

Damien’s expression twisted into pain.
 

“God, are you crying?
 
Cleo, what’s wrong?
 
What did I say?”

“You still won’t admit it, will you?” I spat.

Tears streamed down my face in earnest now.
 
I could stand everything else, but not this.  I hated him, I hated this, I hated that there was no way out now.  But most of all, I hated myself.  I hated that he could make me cry.
 
I hated that I cared about him.

And I hated myself for loving him despite knowing what he was.  

I hated my need to be with him.  

I hated the fact that some small part of me would always love Damien Blackwood, no matter how fucked up I knew he was, no matter how much I knew he would always lie and manipulate me.

I fell back onto the couch, no longer trying to hide my tears.
 

Fuck him.
 
I was done with him.
 

Damien fell to his knees in front of me, tenderly stroking my hair as he searched my face.
 
“Why do you keep talking about a letter?
 
What letter?”

“Quit pretending you don’t know,” I choked.

“Cleo,” he said, holding my chin in his hands.  

The pain in his eyes almost looked real, but I couldn’t force myself to believe it.  I couldn’t let myself fall for him again.  I knew what he was, and I knew he would never change.  So why did his voice sound so tortured?  “I’m not playing dumb.”

“The letter, goddamnit,” I sobbed.  “The one you left the night you abandoned me.
 
The one you left telling me to forget about you, like you hadn’t just told me you loved me.
 
You fucked me, you abandoned me, and you left me a letter telling me to forget it all.
 
It was the first time I realized you were a fucking liar.”

The words were still burned into my mind, mocking me.  

Because I had believed him.  

Because I had loved him.  

Because a small part of me still loved him, enough that I still had that goddamn letter memorized.  Because I could never forget it:

“
Thanks
,” I recited bitterly.  “
It was fun.  You should forget about me
.”

A moment of silence hovered between us.  

His eyes searched mine, blank and confused.  Was he really that heartless?  That he wouldn’t even remember the moment he destroyed teenage me?  That the thing that had haunted me for years wasn’t even a blip on his radar?

“That letter, Damien,” I spat.  God, it was pathetic that I needed to remind him.  It was pathetic that I still cared.  “The one you left with me after fucking me.  The one you left so I’d know that that’s all I was, a good fuck.  The rebellious little sister you conquered.  It was all just a game to you.  That’s all I’ve ever been to you, isn’t it?  A fucking game.”

Damien’s eyes burned into mine.

“And you think I said that?” he growled

“You wrote it, idiot.”

“A
letter
.”

“Yes, goddamnit!” I said, throwing my hands up.  

I couldn’t stand this.  Even now, even when I finally called him out after all these years, he refused to accept it.  He refused to man up and face his teenage mistakes.  He refused to apologize.  Or even admit that it had happened.

I fucking hated him.

And I fucking hated that I loved him.

“A letter,” I repeated, wiping the tears away with my palm.  “That god damn letter you left on my bedside table.  I know you fucking know what I’m talking about.  For once in your worthless life, Damien Blackwood, be honest.  Quit lying to me.  Especially not now.”

I looked down at the tears staining my sweatpants.  

“I’m not lying, Cleo,” he whispered.  His thumb ran along my chin.  “I promise.”

“Then why won’t you admit you wrote it?” I said desperately.

“Because Cleo,” he whispered.  “I never left any letter.”
 

“What?” I asked numbly.
 

My mind was blank, so full of buzzing and confused white noise that I couldn’t hear myself think.
 
Of course he left the letter.
 
Of course he rejected me, of course he left me, of course he was a manipulative liar.
 
That’s what Damien Blackwood always had been.
 
There was no way my entire life up to this moment was based on a lie.

There wasn’t, was there?

“Cleo,” he said softly.
 
“I didn’t leave a letter.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tell me,” he said, still cradling my chin.
 
He tilted it up softly so he would look into my eyes.
 
His thumb wiped away a tear that clung to my cheek.
 
“Tell me what the letter said.”

“
Thanks
,” I repeated in a dead voice.
 
“
It was fun.
 
You should forget about me
.”

His lips pursed as he looked into my eyes.
 
I searched his gaze for any sign of deception, but there was none.
 
I remembered all of his old tells, the little signs that let me know Damien Blackwood was up to something, the easiest way to spot his lying….

And none of them were there.

He was telling the truth.

Oh, God.

“You didn’t….”

“I didn’t,” he said softly, shaking his head.
 
“I never left a letter.
 
The last thing I told you was that I loved you.
 
That was it.”

My eyes slid shut again.
 
“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?
  
Not a single call or note or anything?”

“Cleo, I told you,” he growled, his voice furious again.
 
Not at me, but at the fucked up fate that had pulled us apart that way.
 
“I fucking wanted to!
 
You know I did!”
 
His voice nearly broke.
 
“Every fucking day I thought about you, every fucking day I wanted to hold you again.
 
I would have given up everything to be with you, but I knew you needed me to protect you.
 
It was you that never sent me a single word!”

“Because the letter said you didn’t want me to,” I said in a small voice.

Damien froze.

“Of course it did,” he spat.
 
“Of course that son of a bitch would say that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It was my father, wasn’t it?”

“Damien, please.
 
I really don’t understand.”

“Dad left that letter, didn’t he?
 
He told me the same fucking thing about you.”
 
He shook his head fiercely.
 
“That you didn’t want to hear from me.
 
I knew it was bullshit, but I didn’t know he said the same to you.”
 
His fist clenched.
 
“That was his way of keeping us apart, wasn’t it?
 
It wasn’t enough that he wanted to threaten me with losing the family fortune if I ever spoke to you again.
 
He wanted to make sure you thought I wanted it that way.
 
I fucking hate him.”

I wanted to deny it.
 
But I couldn’t.
 

“You didn’t write the letter,” I repeatedly numbly.
 
“But you loved me.”

“Sending you money, keeping you safe.
 
It was the only way I could love you while Dad was still alive, Cleo.
 
It wasn’t safe to talk to you. But I couldn’t ever leave you alone, not while I loved you.”
 
His head fell on my shoulders, burying his face into my neck.
 
“The money was the only way I could love you, Cleo.
 
It’s the only thing I ever had.
 
How could I not send it?”

“And what about Audrey?” I asked, touching his hand.
 
His fingers reached for mine, and he pulled me close to him.
 
“What about the marriage?
 
Are you just going to throw me aside like you did with her?”

“I married her because Dad told me to.
 
Not because we loved each other.”

“How can I believe that?”

“Did you see the way we talk to each other?
 
She wanted my money, and I needed her fame and good reputation.
 
She’s furious that you’re getting her paycheck, not her man.”
 
He frowned.
 
“Besides, she was the woman Dad wanted me to marry.
 
That alone should tell you what kind of person she is.”

Now that, I believed.

His hands reached up to squeeze my shoulders, and I looked into his eyes again.
 
His messy dark hair hung in thick locks around his face, and his gleaming eyes gazed into mine.
 
He bit his full bottom lip, the one with the faint scar from the teenage piercing.

 
“I thought about you, Cleo.
 
Every fucking day I thought about you.
 
I missed you more than anything in the world.
 
I would give up anything to be with you.”
 
He paused.
 
“Hell, I
am
giving up everything to be with you.
 
I’m out of my inheritance now, aren’t I?”
 
He snorted.
 
“Good fucking riddance.”

“You did,” I realized.
 

He
was
willing to give up everything to be with me.

I kept trying to find the flaw in his story, the one that let me know it was just another lie.
 
But there wasn’t one, was there?
 
The real question was how Mom and I had escaped homelessness for so long, and the only real answer was Damien.
 

And if he was telling the truth, he had just risked his entire fortune.
 
Not even to get me back, just to see me and tell me what I wanted to know.