The Deception (Filthy Rich Americans 3)

There’d always been plenty of both to come by in Cape Hill.

But tonight, there was no whispered gossip with Royce. We didn’t cuddle. He stuck to his side of the enormous bed and me to mine, and after a quick goodnight kiss, he’d snapped off the light and gone right to sleep.

I turned away from him and mashed my pillow beneath my head.

Earlier, when I’d changed and prepared for bed in my room, I’d discovered the chess set Macalister had given me—where the pieces were from the Greek myths—had been set up on my coffee table. A white pawn was placed forward two squares, as if Macalister were playing the white side of the board now and had made his opening move.

Instead, I put the piece back on its home space in the starting position.

I’d told him no more games, and I’d meant it, no matter how beautiful the chess pieces were or that I’d begrudgingly come to enjoy the strategy of it. What was he thinking, anyway? That I’d invite him into my room to play?

Fuck that.

The only time we’d used this set, the pieces had been flung across the room, and his mouth had smothered mine while he’d pushed me against the bookcase.

It irritated me how he was already trying to bend the rules when we’d only made the deal two days ago, although I wasn’t that surprised. He liked to push. He was happiest when the people around him weren’t.

And I was still upset from earlier, when he hadn’t listened when I’d told him I didn’t want to talk about it. What Royce had said was likely right. His stepmother wasn’t interested in my forgiveness, only pleasing her husband.

I rolled back over to face my fiancé, doing it noisily to try to wake him, but it didn’t work. His face was peaceful, and although he looked gorgeous like that, resentment itched across my skin. I was exhausted, but he made sleeping impossible. The least he could do was wake up and keep me company.

My mind kept going back to the chess set.

It was foolish, but I was becoming desperate. Maybe I’d be able to sleep if the set was gone, out of my room. I tossed back the covers and climbed out of bed. Royce didn’t even stir as I padded on bare feet to the door and slipped out.

The hallway was dark; the only source of light came from the arched window at the end. The moonlight cast panes of silver over the rich red carpet, which looked like a swath of blood flowing to fill every corner. It was incessantly cold in the house, and I shivered in my cotton tank top and shorts.

When a black shadow stepped into my path, my lungs seized. It was a full second before my heart came back to life.

“Lucifer,” I scolded the cat in a whisper. “You scared me.”

He was unconcerned. He brushed against my leg and meowed softly, happy to see another soul awake at this hour, and he didn’t care who it was. I let out my tight breath, reached down, and scratched him behind his ears. His deep purr was . . . satisfying.

The only pets I’d had growing up were fish, and they hadn’t really been mine. For a while, Emily had wanted to be a marine biologist, so my parents had bought her a huge saltwater tank, complete with living coral and tropical fish, and hired a man who came twice a week to do all the things needed to keep everything alive.

My sister had let me name some of the shrimp and one of the purple-yellow fish. He’d been Poseidon, of course. The shrimp were Oceanids—sea nymphs in Greek mythology. The tank had been gorgeous, but as I thought back on it, all I could see was the frivolous money behind it. By the time it was set up, Emily had begun to move on to the next thing. My parents didn’t care. They loved us fiercely and gave my sister and me anything we wanted.

But if they had exercised a little restraint, it was possible I wouldn’t have been wandering the halls of the Hale mansion right now at two in the morning.

I scowled at myself. That wasn’t fair to blame them for my situation. No one had forced me. No one had made me agree to the life I now lived except me.

Lucifer followed me optimistically as I went into my bedroom, hoping for more attention, but my focus had already moved to the chessboard. I pushed the pieces to the center of the board and carefully picked it up. He meowed quietly while I carried it down the hall and into the library.

As I stepped inside, my gaze flew to the imposing figure looming at the window. The board tilted in my hands, pieces slid off the side, and clattered noisily to the floor.