Page 102 of Ruthless Game

“Careful, this shit could kill you,” he said.

“You aren’t drinking any?” I asked.

“I’m your designated driver,” he said. “I owe you that much, seeing as it was my sister who fucked you over.”

I didn’t want to even think about Emma, much less hear her mentioned, so I slammed back the other drink and made my way out to the crowd.

The night got blurry after that. There were a lot of girls, a lot of shots, a lot of laughing I didn’t partake in. Jeffrey vanished at some point, and then these two girls approached me. They were hot, a little older, but my dick didn’t get hard for them. I worried it would never get hard for anyone but Emma.

That didn’t deter either of them, though. One started kissing me, the other shoved her hand down my pants.

“No,” I might’ve said at one point or another. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t remember. Even if I had, it didn’t stop them from touching me, kissing me, making me feel fucking awful, fucking helpless.

Real men aren’t helpless, my dead father said in my head. Saying no makes you weak.

Even if I’d wanted to fight them off, I’d felt weak. Like my arms wouldn’t work, like I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

Until I blinked, and Emma was there, standing in the doorway of the house, staring at me, a shocked, devastated look on her face. I’d never seen anything like it in my life—like she’d died, right then and there, but her body hadn’t known to give up. Shaking her head, she turned and ran out of the house, and then I was pushing the two girls off me and racing after her.

Outside, a storm raged. Rain soaked her hair and clothing, making her yellow and white polka dot dress stick to her skin. Her blonde hair was dark, almost brown.

“Emma.”

“Were you cheating on me? Was that on purpose? Or were they taking advantage of you?”

“Men can’t be taken advantage of,” I said immediately, automatically. I didn’t know if the words were mine.

“So did they make you? Or did you want it?”

I didn’t want it. All I want is you.

I swallowed, my throat hurt, my stomach roiled.

“I wanted it.”

She shut her eyes, tears pouring down her already wet face.

“So what, you think I cheated, and you had to do it too?”

Anger and disgust filled me, but I wasn’t sure who it was directed toward. Still, I said the only thing I could say.

“It’s nothing less than you deserve,” I told her.

She covered her mouth, but I still heard the sob she stifled.

“I’m leaving,” she said flatly. “I never told you this, but I got into Oxford. When you were accepted to Reina, when the Beasts drafted you, I’d decided to stay, but now I’m leaving. I walk away now and that’s it between us.”

“Good,” I said, my voice equally flat, even if my heart was fucking breaking all over again. “I never want to see you, either.”

“This is it, Max.”

“Don’t ever call me that again,” I snapped.

She nodded. “I won’t be calling you anything, so you don’t have to worry about that. Don’t bother reaching out, because after this, you no longer exist. This is the end of us, Max. I hope you’re happy.”

And then she was running off into the night, and the moment she disappeared out of view, I leaned over and puked my guts out, feeling horribly empty.

And I kept feeling empty, for days, months, years—until I walked into that pub in Oxford and saw her dark blue eyes again.