Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite 6)

“That’s what you’ve been hiding from me, Silver?”

I hate when he calls me by my name.

“I have to meet him,” I murmur. “He’ll post a picture and there’ll be a scandal.”

“He won’t.”

“How would you know that?”

“If he had it, he would’ve attached it to the text and threatened you with it. He’s bluffing.”

“What if he isn’t?”

He grabs me by the arm and pushes me inside my room, then slams me against the door, keeping me pinned in place. “He won’t. Even if he does, you’ll only make it worse if you meet him.”

“But —”

“Shut up.”

“Cole…” I plead.

“Shut the fuck up, Silver. I told you I won’t be lenient if I find out on my own.” He retrieves his phone and puts it to his ear. “Frederic. How are you? I think there could be an intruder near the back garden. Can you have one of the security guys check?”

I fidget with my back glued to the door, my toes curling against the floor before I release them.

“Won’t he get mad if we provoke him?” I whisper.

Cole places a finger against my mouth, shushing me. My brain has other thoughts, though, like kissing that finger and telling him everything bottled inside me.

“I see,” he says to Fredric. “Thank you. Have a great night.”

“So?” I ask as soon as he hangs up.

“There was no one. He must’ve left.”

“What if he didn’t?”

“What are you going to do about it? Go out like that and meet him?”

“No. I was in a hurry. I didn’t think.”

“You don’t seem to be doing a lot of that lately.”

It’s more like I’m thinking too much.

“I’m confiscating your phone. Go to sleep.”

I peek at him through my lashes. “You won’t sleep with me?”

“I thought you hated me. Why would you want me to sleep with you?”

Ugh. The arsehole.

I huff as I climb under the covers, pulling them to my chin. He pulls out my chair and a book we’re reading for literature and sits opposite me.

“You can go. I don’t need a babysitter.” I try not to sound frustrated that he prefers the chair over me.

“Considering you were going out to meet your stalker in fuck-me clothes, you obviously do,” he says without lifting his head from the book. Wuthering Heights. Fitting.