Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite 6)

Oh, no. No, no, no…

If someone sees us and —

“Looks like fun. I should’ve been invited, considering I’m the fiancé and all.”

I release a long breath at Aiden’s voice. My body sags and I fight to keep my eyes open behind the blindfold. My breathing starts buzzing in my ears and I can barely register my blurry surroundings.

“Fuck off,” Cole says calmly as he smooths my dress and I feel him pulling my underwear up my legs.

The fact he’s hiding my nakedness from Aiden should make me grateful, but I hate him too much to feel any sort of thanks right now.

“What was that, brother-in-law?”

“Say that again and I’ll murder you.” It’s the first time I’ve heard Cole issue such a direct threat.

It’s like he’s ready to act on his threat right here, right now.

“Can’t you see what you’re doing?” Aiden’s voice. “She’s fainting.”

“That’s none of your business,” Cole says.

Hands pull the blindfold away and I squint at the light before I make out Aiden’s expression. He’s smiling down at me with contempt. “You owe me one.”

“Yo,” Ronan’s stoned voice comes from the door. “The fuck? You have a threesome and I’m not invited?”

Cole shoos him out, and by the time he returns, Aiden is already unbinding me.

My lids flutter closed despite my attempts to keep them wide open.

I don’t feel so good.

“Silver.” Cole slaps my cheek. “Fuck, Silver?”

“Told you she was fainting,” Aiden says. “I know you’re giddy, but did you lose the Stop button?”

“You shut the fuck up.” Cole focuses on me. “Silver, can you hear me?”

“I hate you,” I murmur and then surrender to the darkness.

20

Silver

I don’t know how I got home. There were voices, Aiden’s

and Cole’s, and they were arguing about who got to drive and who got to hold me in the back of the car. I recall wanting to open my eyes so I could see them fight.

“I’m the fiancé. It goes without saying that I should hold her. You’ll only be the doting brother after all, no?”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up and drive, I’ll call Elsa to see you acting as a doting fiancé.”

“Fuck you, Nash.”

One of them must’ve won, because strong arms carried me and then I was submerged in that cinnamon scent and warmth.

I’m half-dazed, floating, and I still smell him, feel him, secretly crave him.

What is wrong with me?