Free Wicked Game: a Billionaire Stepbrother Romance by Bella Scully Page A

slippers danced through my head.   So this is how it ends , I thought to myself in (what I was sure were) the last moments of my life.  Cleo in a t-shirt in panties, flopping around like a beached fish and shrieking.  
    Dignified.
    But instead of a knife wielding butcher leaning against the doorframe, I tore my sleep mask off to see a different kind of heartless psychopath.
    “Damien,” I growled.
    “Wake up, wifey, we’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
    His easy grin irritated me almost as much as the fact he was wearing tennis shoes.  I threw the blankets off of me and stretched as I glared at the hateful things.
    Tennis shoes meant running.
    Adult Cleo hated running.
    “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, glancing me up and down with a cocked eyebrow.  “But you are still definitely not a morning person.”
    “And the sky is blue.”  I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and grabbed a robe.  There was no way in hell Damien was getting a glance of my granny panties.  I’d never hear the end of it, or at least not until I murdered him.  “What are you dragging me into this time?  Are we stealing more artifacts from museums?  Assassinating a Kennedy?”
    “Oh no, that’s Wednesdays.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out two tickets.  He threw one at me, and I snatched it out of the air.  “Today is something far more dangerous.”
    I glanced down at the tickets, and my eyes widened again.  He really was doubling down on this Dad thing.  In blue and black print, the words GARRISON EGYPTOLOGY MUSEUM scrolled across the top.  
    My heart stopped.  Garrison was the museum Dad had worked for so long, and the place in which I had basically grown up.  I could still remember the scent of lemon cleaner and the sounds of my school shoes slapping on the polished marble floors.  
    Once, when things got bad for us, he lived in his office there.  We would have sleepovers, and he would lead me down the religious artifacts section, teaching me about the gods while we snacked on graham crackers.  A pang hit my heart.  I realized I missed it.  
    I squeezed my eyes shut.  I hadn’t been there since Dad died.
    “And this is my surprise?  A visit to a museum?”
    “Congrats, Cleo, you’ve solved the mystery.  Now get up!”
    Another pillow hit me in the face.  
    I really was going to kill him.
    I glanced at the clock at my bedside and groaned.
    “Damien, it’s two in the fucking morning.  Did you seriously just wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me we’re visiting a museum tomorrow?”
    “Not tomorrow.  Tonight.  Get up.”
    Tonight?  My face contorted into a grimace, and he rolled his eyes at me.  Yes, I was definitely the one being ridiculous here.  Not Damien, standing in my doorway wearing jeans and a cocky grin, ready to break into my dead father’s former workplace just for funsies.
    “You know the place closes at ten.  They’re not going to let us in this late.”
    “Right,” he said, hitching a leg up on my dresser to tighten his shoelaces.  Ugh, I had forgotten he was wearing tennis shoes.  “Which is why we’re going to sneak in.  Wear something black, you’ll blend into the night better.  And you look sexy in black.”
    I wanted to snap at him to get his ass out of my lair, but the tickets tingled in my fingers.  I hadn’t been to Garrison in so long… and I missed it.  I missed it bad.  That, added to the curiosity that was now burning inside me, made this irresistible.  Even if I desperately wished it wasn’t.
    I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath.
    I was going to regret this.
    “I’ll be out in ten minutes.”
    His face lit up with a smile.  “Good.  Meet me in the garage.”
    Grumbling to myself about stupid men in stupid tennis shoes with stupid plans to get us arrested, I slipped on a black t-shirt and jeans.  I stuffed a flashlight into my purse before stumbling out the door and down the hallways.  The sounds of