Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(63)

I hated him.

Not because he grew up in a life of privilege, but because he could freely touch Bridget in public. He could take her ice skating, make her laugh, and brush her hair out of her eye, and no one would blink an eye.

Meanwhile, all I could do was stand there and watch, because women like Bridget weren’t meant for men like me.

“You’ll never amount to anything, you little piece of shit,” Mama slurred, her eyes mean and hateful as she glared at me. “Look atcha. Useless and scrawny. I should’ve gotten rid of you when I had the chance.”

I stayed quiet. The last time I talked back, she beat me so hard with her belt I’d bled through my shirt and couldn’t sleep on my back for weeks. I’d learned the best way to handle her bad moods was to hope she eventually forgot I was there. That usually happened after she was halfway through whatever bottle she was drinking.

“If it wasn’t for you, I’d be out of this stinkin’ town by now.”

Resentment poured off her in waves. Mama stood by the table, wearing her faded pink robe and chain-smoking a cigarette. Her cheeks were pale and sunken, and even though she was only in her late twenties, she could pass for her forties.

I tucked my hands beneath my arms and tried to shrink into myself while she continued to rant. It was Friday night. I hated Friday nights because it meant I had an entire weekend of just Mama and me.

“Waste of space…nothing like your father…are you listening to me, you piece of shit?”

I stared at the cracks in the floor until they blurred together. One day, I would get out of here. Somehow, some way.

“I said, are you listening to me?” Mama grabbed my shoulders and shook me so hard my teeth rattled. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy!” She backhanded me so hard I stumbled, the pain making my ears ring.

My body twisted, and I saw it coming, but I didn’t have time to brace myself before the corner of the dining table smashed into my head and everything went black.

I blinked, and the smell of old spaghetti sauce and vodka faded, replaced by that of fresh ice and Jas’s overpowering perfume.

Bridget and Steffan skated over, and the cameras went crazy.

Click. Click. Click.

“…for a while,” Steffan said. “But I would love to take you out again when I return.”

“Are you going somewhere?” I asked.

It was inappropriate for me to butt into their conversation, but I didn’t give a fuck.

Steffan cast a startled glance in my direction. “Yes. My mother fell and broke her hip yesterday. She’s fine, but she’s recovering at our house in Preoria. She’s quite lonely with my father here in session for Parliament, so I’ll be staying with her until she feels better.”

He answered with full graciousness, which only annoyed me more. The harder he was to hate, the more I hated him.

“How sad,” I said.

Steffan paused, clearly unsure how to read my tone.

“Hopefully, she recovers soon.” Bridget shot me a look of mild rebuke. “Now, about that hot chocolate…”

She guided him toward the hot chocolate stand at the other end of the rink while I fumed.

Taking a permanent position as Bridget’s bodyguard meant I’d have to deal with seeing her date other people. I knew that, and that would be my cross to bear.

I just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

She’d dated in New York, but that had been different. She hadn’t liked any of those guys, and she hadn’t planned on marrying one of them.

Acid gnawed at my gut.

Thankfully, the date ended soon after, and I whisked her into the car before Steffan could pull any first date kiss bullshit.

“Initial recovery for a broken hip takes one to four months,” I said as we drove back to the palace. “Too bad for his lordship. What shitty timing.”

Even fate didn’t think it was a good pairing. If it did, it wouldn’t have pulled Steffan away so soon after he met Bridget.

I’d never believed in fate, but I might have to send her a big, fat thank you card later. I might even toss in some chocolates and flowers.

Bridget didn’t take the bait. “Actually, it’s perfect timing,” she said. “I’ll be away from Athenberg for a few weeks as well.”

I eyed her in the rearview mirror. That was fucking news to me.

“It’s not confirmed yet, so don’t give me that look,” she said. “I’ve proposed going on a goodwill tour around the country. Meet with locals and small businesses, find out what’s on their minds and what issues they’re facing. I’ve gotten a lot of criticism for not being in touch with what’s happening in Eldorra, and, well, they’re right.”

“That’s a great idea.” I turned onto King’s Drive.

“You think so?” A note of relief tempered the uncertainty in Bridget’s voice.

“I’m no expert on politics, but it sounds right to me.”

Bridget may not want to be queen, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t make a great one. Most people thought the most important quality in a leader was strength, but it was compassion. Strength meant jack shit when you didn’t use it for the right reasons.

Luckily for her and for Eldorra, she had both in spades.

“The king still has to approve it,” she said after we parked and walked to the palace entrance. “But I don’t anticipate him saying no.”