Twisted Kingdom (Royal Elite #3) - Rina Kent Page 0,24

a doer.

It’s been more than thirteen days since she left to Birmingham and didn’t return.

Five days since the Rhodes’ fundraiser.

Five whole fucking days of sleepless nights.

Five days of angry handjobs while thinking about her.

Five days of contemplating how to barge into her world without making her hate me even more.

How the fuck am I supposed to get her back if she’s on the other side of the country? How am I supposed to reach her if she won’t hear me out?

The numb, apathetic expression on her face at the party still guts me every time I think about it.

As a result, all my handjobs end with a pathetic, non-satisfying release.

Elsa is slowly pulling away from me. I can feel it down to my soul and damn bones.

I can’t even push back when she’s volatile.

Elsa is so closed off about my involvement with Queens, she won’t hear anything contrary to what she already believes in.

Stubborn fucking girl.

I slam my car’s door shut and walk the small distance to Nash’s black Jeep.

He appears completely at ease as he retrieves his books from the passenger seat.

I know better.

If I spent last night running hills and swimming, he spent it blowing off steam in the only way he knows how.

I prop my elbow against the side of his car. “Are you going to stop being a little bitch?”

“Are you going to stop being a fucking whore?” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“You know that’s not what happened, Nash. Stop thinking with your dick.”

“Is that so?” He slams the passenger door shut and faces me, holding his books with one hand. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, then? I’m listening.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Smart.

Nash’s intelligence is the reason I got myself into this whole fucking mess in the first place.

The challenge and the games are what we lived for. I never thought there would be a day when I would regret them. Partly because I don’t do regrets. And also because I didn’t see Elsa coming back into my life with such power.

“Talk to Elsa,” I say.

“Why would I do that?”

I want to smash his face into the car and pick his neurons apart.

I don’t do that.

Nash is one of my rare tickets to get Elsa back.

“She likes and trusts you more than ever after you ran your fucking mouth about the kidnapping.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” His lips curl into a smirk.

Fucker knows his strengths all too well. He didn’t only tell Elsa about the kidnapping to get back at me, he also did it so she’d trust him.

“Too bad I’m not in the mood to help a fucking whore.” He slams his shoulder into mine.

I clench my jaw and grab him by the shoulder. “I’ll owe you one.”

He stops and slowly turns around.

Nash, of all people, knows I don’t like owing anyone shit. This is a drastic measure. I’m giving him the chance to make the first move and strike.

“You’ll end it.” He squares his shoulders so we’re standing toe-to-toe. “All of it.”

“Soon.”

“And you’ll tell me what the fuck is your deal with her.”

“Deal.”

Sorry not sorry, Queens. I warned you. Now, you’re on your own.

If I were a better person, I would’ve sent her a warning text, but I’m not. Besides, this is payback for when she didn’t notify me about Jonathan.

It might take days, but I always pay my dues.

“When are you going to talk to her?” I ask.

“After you do.”

“If I could talk to her myself, I wouldn’t ask you to do it for me.”

“Elsa isn’t like us. She needs to hear it straight from you and Silver or she won’t believe it.”

“She wouldn’t fucking talk to me.”

“You deserve it.”

“Nash,” I warn low.

“Just saying. Ask for forgiveness and show her your true feelings — as fucked up as they are. Knight, Astor, and I can talk to her all day, but if she shuts down from you, there’s no bringing her back.”

“When did you become an expert on relationships?”

“Since you keep fucking up.” He starts towards the building. “Show up for practice and make an actual effort or I’ll have to ask Coach to bench you.”

Little —

“Oh.” He smiles. “We have an interesting addition to the team.”

Fuck if I care.

We walk through the school’s hallway. Girls from the gymnastics and track teams bat their eyelashes at me.

They think because Elsa is out of the picture, they have a chance.

I’d pity them if I could.

There’s no one before Elsa and no one after her. She’s a constant, and soon