Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite #6) by Rina Kent

No. Nope.

I’ll have to find other people for Helen and Papa. I’ll never live under the same roof as that crude, stupid —

“Bad dream?”

I gasp and almost jump off the mattress. Cole is sitting beside me, leaning against the headboard and reading from a book called Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. His hair is damp and falls on his forehead. He’s wearing cotton trousers and a simple white T-shirt, which means he just got out of the shower.

I can’t help inhaling the scent of his shower gel. It’s like cinnamon and spice and I’ve become so used to it in a weird way lately.

I wipe my mouth in case there’s drool or something. “W-what are you doing here?”

“This is my room,” he says without looking up from his book.

He does that a lot, reading. Like a nerd, making all the girls watch him and say he’s so swoony. So attractive. So hot. He’s not.

“It’s not your room.” I do a swift glance to make sure. Of course it isn’t. Considering I make it my mission to avoid his room, I would’ve known if it were.

“I made you look.”

“You’re such a wanker.” I fold my arms over my chest, glaring at him.

We remain like that for a second too long. He’s reading while I continue to glare, trying to figure out what the hell girls find attractive about him.

Yes, he has beautiful eyes that seem mysterious like the top of trees no one can reach. His hair is soft and a bit long, so that’s cool, too, I guess. His face is generally pleasing to look at, yes.

But his personality is rotten.

Why does he keep attracting everyone so much?

“You went to a charity event with Aiden?” he asks quietly, still staring at his book.

“I did. We were with Papa and Uncle Jonathan.”

“And what did you do?”

“We had fun.”

“Define fun, Butterfly.”

“We talked to some of Papa and Uncle Jonathan’s friends, and they said we’re smart kids who’ll be perfect heirs to our fathers.” I grin at that memory, I love when people compare me to Papa. “Then we ate and we played chess and we danced and —”

“You danced?” he cuts me off, finally lifting his head from his book to glimpse at me.

I nod.

“How?”

“What do you mean, how? We danced a bit of a waltz.”

“Waltz,” he repeats, glaring at me as if he wants to punch me. If I didn’t know Cole doesn’t punch or hit anyone — not even jokingly — I would’ve run from the room.

The silence stretches until it becomes uncomfortable. I hate long periods of silence, it makes me squirmy. Mum’s voice echoes in my head over and over again.

A lady never feels awkward.

“Then Aiden and I went outside,” I continue. “We snuck and ate more dessert behind the staff’s back and —”

“Shut up.”

“You’re the one who asked what fun we had.”

“And now I’m telling you to shut up.” He slams his book closed and although the sound isn’t loud, I flinch in place.

I should probably go. Not only to escape this atmosphere, but also to find Papa before my plan comes into play.

“Show me your titties,” Cole says out of freaking nowhere.

My eyes widen so hard and I swallow as if that will somehow erase what I’ve heard.

His face remains neutral, even though his lips twitch as if to smile — or smirk.

“N-no!” I cross my hands over my chest.

“I could’ve seen them when you were asleep.”

If my jaw could hit the floor, it would about now. I pull the sheet to my chest, my voice small and wrong. “D-did you? See them, I mean.”

“No. It’s more fun if you do it.”

“Well, I’m not doing it.” I narrow my eyes into slits.

“You will eventually, so you might as well start now.”

“Nice try. No.”

He shrugs as if it’s the most normal occurrence in the world. Ever since I started growing breasts, Ronan and Xander won’t stop asking things about them, like can they touch them? No. Do I stare at them all day? No. Can they get a picture to compare to the other pictures they have? No — and I didn’t even ask what other pictures they have.

Cole has never once paid attention to them. It’s the first time he’s mentioned them. But Cole has a way of watching things that never alludes to what he’s actually thinking or feeling.

“Do you want a dare?” he asks.

I jut my chin. “What are the stakes?”

I’ve learnt to always ask about the stakes before we start, because Cole plays unfair. I’m really beginning to think he loses just because he forfeits.

And that’s a low blow to my pride.

“If you win, I do something for you. No questions asked. And vice versa.”

“I’m not showing you my breasts, Cole.”

“You mean tits?”

My face heats. Why does he have to be so crude? “Well, I’m not showing them.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Promise.”

“What’s the dare?”

He throws the book in my lap. “Pick a page, then tell me to read any line.”