Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite #6) by Rina Kent

Ronan posted a selfie with the other three horsemen a few hours ago — right before the game started. Cole stands in the back as Xander clutches him and Aiden by the shoulders.

He’s not smiling or scowling. It’s his default face. I zoom in on him and my heart does that same little flutter that happens whenever I look at him.

My fingers trail to my necklace and I close my eyes for a brief second, imagining him coming through the non-existent balcony and jumping me on the bed.

Is it healthy that I miss him when I just saw him this morning?

My phone pings and I startle, my eyes flying open.

If my heart could spill to the ground, it would right about now.

A text from Cole. It’s almost as if he’s telepathic and knows exactly when I’m thinking about him.

Cole: I’m in your room. You aren’t.

My breathing hitches as I type.

Silver: What are you doing in my room?

Cole: What I do every night, Butterfly. Getting my dose of you.

An involuntary smile grazes my lips.

Silver: But I’m not there.

Cole: Your sheets are. Your smell is. Even your underwear drawer.

Silver: Don’t you dare look in there!

Cole: Already did. Do you honestly think there’s something of yours that I haven’t already looked through?

Silver: You’re such a pervert.

Cole: Admit it, you’re turned on thinking about me lying naked in your bed as I jerk one off to you.

I wasn’t, but now I am.

I can’t get the image of Cole touching himself on my bed out of my head. My nipples strain against my T-shirt and I readjust it, only for them to ache more.

Still, I type the lie.

Silver: I’m not.

Cole: How come I don’t believe you?

Silver: I don’t care what you believe.

I type with shaky fingers as my other hand disappears between my legs and I let my head fall back against the pillow.

My fingers circle my clit and I muffle my moan with my teeth as I slip two digits inside me, pretending it’s him sneaking into my room again.

Cole: You know what I think, Butterfly? I think you’re wet and you’re aching to touch yourself. That is, if you aren’t already. You’ll imagine it’s me like you did in the shower. You’ll think of your fingers as my cock and you’ll thrust hard and deep, wishing it was me.

My moans echo in the air as I let the phone fall to the side and pinch my nipples under my T-shirt. The moment I run my fingers over the hickeys he left there, I come.

“C-Cole…” I moan his name in the silence of the room as a sigh falls from me.

I’m still panting as I grip my phone again.

Cole: Touch yourself all you like, but we both know it won’t be as satisfying as when I’m there.

The arrogant bastard. He’s right, though. It’s nothing, intensity-wise.

I hate it when he’s right.

Cole: Come back early tomorrow. I miss you, Butterfly.

I miss you, too.

I allow my brain that thought as I fall asleep, hugging the phone to my chest.





28





Silver





Nausea.

It’s the second day I wake up feeling it in the span of a week.

I felt it a few days ago when I was preparing the food with Helen before I went to Mum’s. Then yesterday, when Summer made me smell the new perfume her mum got her.

Today, too.

That’s when I had a look at my calendar. My period is two days late.

It shouldn’t be a big deal since I’ve always had a non-regular period.

Besides, I’ve been stressed about Papa’s campaign, Mum’s mental state, and keeping the whole thing I have with Cole a secret. I lose a few months of my life every day because of stressing out and even take tranquilisers.

That’s what I tell myself.

That’s what I keep chanting in my head during piano practice or even when I notice Adam too close to the girls’ restroom soon after I come out of it.

I tell myself I’m on the pill. I first started taking them to regulate my cycle. After I became sexually active, and with Cole not using a freaking condom, I took them religiously.

Not once have I missed a pill.

“Now, remember, the pill is ninety-nine per cent effective, and only if you don’t miss taking any.” My GP’s words have been playing in my head on a loop for days now.

Yesterday was the day I started freaking out.

Yesterday was the day I read horror stories from women who also trusted birth control pills and got pregnant.

So last night, I pretended to be asleep when Cole snuck into my room. It didn’t stop him from hugging me from behind, wrapping himself around me.

I couldn’t sleep.

All I could focus on was his hand on my stomach as he slept.

My stomach.

I’m not stupid. I know that I can’t pretend to be asleep every night. Not only will Cole see straight through me, but he’ll also confront me. He’ll pick up on my mood changes.

And then what?

What if this nausea and the need to throw up isn’t normal? What if the pill has failed me and I fail myself and my parents and everyone else?

That’s off the table.

I stay in my car across from the pharmacy, wearing my huge sunglasses and watching my surroundings as if expecting a reporter to jump me.

I can almost imagine the headlines: