Twisted-Games

RHYS
OUR TRYST IN THE THRONE ROOM WAS THE LAST BIT OF ALONE TIME BRIDGET
and I had before her brother and future sister-in-law arrived, and she got
swept up in a flurry of pre-wedding obligations. I thought normal weddings
were tedious, but royal weddings were off the charts.
On the bright side, it meant Bridget didn’t have time to see Steffan,
either. The fucker was back in town, and the thought of seeing them on
another date made my blood burn.
I’ve gone off the rails. Hell, I’d gone off the entire fucking track. I’d
never so much as gone on a third date with a woman in the past. None had
interested me enough. And now I was thinking of killing over one.
Bridget had my head well and truly fucked.
“Get it together,” I muttered, slamming a jar of tomato sauce on the
counter. “It’s one day.”
Except it wasn’t only one day because eventually, she would have to
marry someone noble. Someone blue-blooded. Someone not me.
Fury and pain rippled through me, and I forced myself to focus on the
task at hand before I spiraled too far down that path. It wouldn’t end well for
me or anything in the kitchen.
I’d just turned on the stove when someone knocked on the door. Bridget
was at some pre-wedding night thing with the rest of the bridesmaids, so it
couldn’t be her. Who else would visit at this time of night?
I turned the stove off again and checked the security camera.
You gotta be shitting me.
I exited the kitchen, crossed the living room, and opened the front door.
“What the hell are you doing here?”