Page 11 of Ruthless Game

“Aren’t you?” Lawson eyed me. “So you aren’t going to save your brother from all around destruction? Too bad for Jeffrey. I have an email ready to go to the NCAA COI and Tabb’s coach with this video and a suggestion for a drug test. A drug test your brother will fail. Are you ready for that kind of fallout, especially knowing you could have done something to prevent it?”

Part of me wished I were, that I could be that selfish. But I couldn’t let Lawson destroy Jeffrey’s future.

What about my internship, though? I was studying child psychology and public policy. After I graduated this spring, I was doing an internship with an organization that was working on giving orphaned children better futures, both psychologically and through governmental policy. After my own childhood, it felt important that I give back—even if a small part of me wondered if I wanted something else.

You do, Emma.

It didn’t matter. When I’d called my parents to tell them, they’d been so proud of me. I couldn’t let them down.

Lawson had me backed into a corner, and he knew it.

“What do you want?” I asked through gritted teeth.

Triumph flashed through his eyes, followed by what seemed like disappointment. I couldn’t understand the mixture of opposing emotions, but he didn’t give me time to figure it out.

“All that matters for now is that you’re packing up your things and flying home with me. I’ll tell you the rest when we get home.”

“Why not now?”

“Because seeing you angry and helpless makes me hard. Want me to prove it?”

I gasped. His words sent shockwaves through my body, followed by unwanted heat. Lawson had never, ever spoken to me like this in the past. He’d been careful with me, gentle, never pushing or pressuring. Whenever I’d bring up sex, he’d laugh and admit that as much as he wanted me, making sure the “timing” was right mattered more.

The night we were finally supposed to have sex was the night everything fell apart.

“And when I get back to Gehenom with you? What am I supposed to do?” I couldn’t sit around the small town I grew up in while he and my brother studied at their respective colleges. I had a life here.

As if he’d read my mind, he said, “I pulled some strings—a lot of strings—and got you enrolled at Reina. Just like we always wanted, Starburst,” he said mockingly. “Going to college together, being together⁠—”

“Being together? You want to date again?”

What the hell was wrong with him? How could he mock me with the one thing I’d missed so badly, my skin felt too tight every time I remembered our former plans?

He snorted. “We’re not dating. Don’t expect flowers, chocolate, or sweet praise ever again. Betraying, spoiled brats don’t get that kind of treatment.”

I pressed my lips together to hide how much his words hurt.

“So if you don’t want to date, what do you want?” I asked. My stomach ached, maybe from his words, but it wouldn’t surprise me if the stress from this whole interaction was going to cause a PCOS flare up. It was painfully ironic, since Lawson was the one who used to take care of me when I had my flare ups, even going so far as to skip hockey practice to make sure I was okay. I’d always been so careful to hide them from my family. Jeffrey had even once joked that if I had any more flare ups, they’d take me back to the group home. It made me feel broken, like a burden.

I’d never felt like either to Lawson.

Wild how much things had changed in only a few years.

For a moment, concern washed over his face. “Are you okay?”

“Do you actually care?”

He glowered, like I’d insulted him.

“Does it seem like I do?”

No. No it didn’t. I tried to ignore my body as he continued. “For now, I’ll pay your bill, since your date didn’t, and we’ll go back to your place so you can pack. Our flight leaves Heathrow tomorrow morning, and you won’t be coming back for a while, so we better get a move on.”

I didn’t bother to point out that James hadn’t paid the bill because Lawson had practically chased him out of here. What did it matter? This man in front of me, with his devastatingly handsome face, facial hair framing a cruel, sneering mouth, was practically unrecognizable. He wouldn’t care. He didn’t seem to care about much of anything beyond humiliating and hurting me.

Without waiting, he rose from the table, dropped a few bills next to my drink, and headed toward the door.

I followed. If I cared about my brother’s future, what other choice did I have?