Free Wicked Game: a Billionaire Stepbrother Romance by Bella Scully

panicked.  But it hit me as my fingers wrapped around the soft cloth that he had just gotten me to accept it.  I looked back up at his smug expression as he crossed his arms.
    God damn that man.
    “Open it,” he said, nodding.
    Might as well.  The curiosity was killing me, and I wanted an excuse to chase him screaming.
    I tugged at the twine, and it gave way easily.  My fingertips pulled the soft cloth apart, revealing a musty book cover.   A moment of confusion hit me before it sank in.  I remembered this.  My hand covered my lips, closing them so no one would hear the tiny gasp that escaped.  
    “It’s … oh God,” I said, as I realized.
    I hadn’t seen this thing in years.
    I pulled the cover open, still not ready to believe it.  But there it was, plain as day, written in black fountain pen on the inside flap, words that made my heart stop:
    Property of Harry Bishop, Ph.D.
    “It’s Dad’s diary,” I said numbly.
    “From when he was working that dig in Egypt,” Damien said, nodding.  “It took me forever to find it, and a fortune to buy it.  I hope it was worth it.”
    “There’s no way you bought this,” I said, shaking my head.  “Dad donated this to the Met.  They don’t sell things like these, not for….”
    “Like I said.  A fortune.”
    “Damien, we’ve got to take this back.”  It killed me to say it, but the history nerd in me knew it was true.  Primary sources like this were invaluable.  “I can’t keep this, and you know it.”
    “Don’t worry,” he said, a smile creeping up his face.  “We’ll return it.  I’ve got a plan.”
    “Oh God, you did steal it, didn’t you?”
    He shrugged, just long enough to give me a panic attack.
    “Damien!”
    He was already strolling out the door.  “Like I said, Cleo.  Don’t worry so much.  I’ll get the driver to come around and pick us up, and you’ll get my other surprise in the morning.”
    Another surprise.
    I looked down at the disastrous one in my hands.
    Oh God.
    The worst part was knowing how hard it would be to return it.  I hoarded Dad’s stuff, desperately clinging to anything I had left of him.  To have something like this—his most beloved diary—and to know I’d have to take it back killed me.  Why would Damien do something like this?  He already had me sign the contract.  He didn’t have to keep pretending to like me.  He didn’t have to keep baiting me with these ridiculous presents.
    I glanced up to the open door, to where Damien stood in the hallway, idly chatting with producers and actresses who passed by.  I pursed my lips.  He really was up to something, wasn’t he?
    I glanced around quickly, hoping no one would notice.
    I kissed the book and slipped it into my bag.
    Alright, fine.  I’d go with him.  Ugh, I hated saying that, but what could I do?  If he had my Dad’s old diary—what else could he have?  I had to go.  Just to make sure he didn’t really steal this from wherever he got it.  Just to make sure Damien wasn’t defiling my Dad’s grave and legacy.  I had no idea what Damien had planned, but I did know that my heart was aching again, reminded of how much I missed my family.  And if Damien could get his hands on this….
    What else did he have up his sleeve?
    I glanced back up at Damien, frowning as I saw two bleached blondes leaning on his arms, pressing their chests against him.  He gave them both teasing smiles, making no move to shake them off of him despite his fiancée sitting right here.
    I grimaced.
    Fine, Damien.  I’ll play your game.
    But this time, we’re playing by my rules.

     

A pillow hit me in the face, slapping me out of my sleep.
    I swear to God, I wasn’t allowed to wake up normally in this house.
    Hysterical, I flailed around in the blankets, ripping the pillow off of me and gasping for breath, sure that I was about to be brutally murdered.  My heart thundered in my chest as visions of Corpse Cleo going through her autopsy in bunny