Cruel King (Royal Elite 0)

“I would’ve gone to your house, but I’m guessing Lord Clifford isn’t a big fan of me.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I frown. “How did you know I’d be in this park?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I have my ways.”

Dan. That traitor. I’m supposed to be angry with him for spilling my morning routine, but I don’t have it in me now.

Levi might be a bastard, but he managed to pluck me from the dooming thoughts about Dad and what he’s hiding from me.

“Run with me.” He nudges my shoulder.

“I’m an artist, not an athlete, remember?”

“You don’t have to be an athlete to run.”

“I’m good.” I flop to an empty bench. “Thanks but no thanks.”

I try to imagine he’s not standing right in front of me as I retrieve my sketchbook.

Easier said than done.

His presence always fills the space like a hurricane brewing in the distance.

I pause opening my pad, recalling that my last sketch is from the game. I might have been working on it during the entire weekend.

“Hey,” I meet his assessing eyes. “Did you steal my sketch the other day?”

“What sketch?”

I narrow my eyes. “Just some rubbish.”

“Just some rubbish, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

There’s no way in hell I’m telling him that it was the first thing I’ve been able to sketch after months.

“Now I see it.”

I follow Levi’s eager field of vision. He’s staring at the end of my Sun-Moon-Star tattoo.

“See what?”

“That’s the reason why you have all these stars on your phone case, your bag, and even your drawings.” He tilts his head. “Do you make wishes upon the stars, princess?”

“I stopped doing that since Mum died.” I narrow my eyes. “You did steal my sketch.”

“What’s your evidence?”

“Tough luck, Levi. You just admitted to it.”

“And how, do tell, did I admit to it?”

I puff my chest, feeling smug. “You said I have stars on my drawings when you’ve supposed to have never seen one.”

He points in my sketchpad’s direction. “I meant that.”

Right. Lie to someone else.