Playing Heart Games

Level 51: Play The Game

VIOLET

I'd been staring at Alissa's door for the last fifteen minutes. I lifted my hand to knock, then hesitated.

I'd tried to rehearse what I would say but, standing here, none of the words felt right. We hadn't spoken since our argument.

I shouldn't be the one apologising to her. And yet...I couldn't shake the guilt.

I exhaled. This was a bad idea. I didn't have to tell her. I'd send a message to the guy. There had to be something else I could do—

The door swung open.

Alissa towered over me. She looked perfect, like always, golden-brown hair pulled up into a messy bun, long limbs in a lace camisole and matching shorts.

She scowled. "What do you want?"

I parted my lips to speak, but nothing came out.

"Well?" she snapped. "You've been standing here for fifteen minutes and you don't know what you want to say?"

I blinked rapidly. "Sorry—I—I need to talk to you."

She started to shut the door. "F**k off."

I caught the door before she could close it. "Wait—it's important."

She glared at me, then snarled, "Five seconds."

I fumbled for the phone the guy had given me.

"Five—"

I swiped it open.

"Four—"

I turned the screen towards her.

"Th—" she paled.

She gripped the screen, her eyes wide. "Where—where did you get this?"

"Someone gave it to me."

Her eyes snapped to mine. Hurt rippled over her features. "What? You're going to tell my dad?" She was glaring, but her voice warbled. "You are such a—"

"I'm not telling anyone!"

She stared at me with wide eyes. Then they narrowed. "So you came here to blackmail me—"

"For goodness sake, no!"

I pushed her into the room, shutting the door behind me.

"Look," I said, "the guy who gave me that video is threatening me—I was...I was hoping it wasn't real."

Her hands clenched around the phone.

Dread settled in my stomach. "Is it real?" I whispered.

Alissa sat on her bed, cradling her head in her hands. "F**k. F**k."

My shoulders sagged. That was answer enough.

"F**king hell..." she croaked.

It took me a second to realise she was crying. Tremors ran through her entire body.

I stared. I'd seen her cry more in the last few days than the entire time I'd known her.

Do something Violet. I started to step forward, then stopped. She probably didn't want me touching her.

"When my dad finds out..." she whispered. Her face crumpled.

I made my decision.

"He's not going to find out."

She looked up, her face wet with tears. "What?" she croaked.

I straightened. "He's not going to find out."

Her brows crumpled. "How—"

"I'll do what the guy wants," I said, more to myself than her. "I'll do what he asked."

*

And that's how I ended up in Reynard's shopping district on a Saturday morning.

I scanned the street. It was too early—the stores weren't open yet, the path empty of people. I pulled out the phone he'd given me, swiping it open.

Central shopping district. 7:00am.

It was 6:59am.

"Violet."

I spun.

The boy from the party stood behind me. "You're on time."

I swallowed, tucking the phone away. "You said 7."

"I did."

He started to walk past me.

"Wait," I rushed out.

He paused. "Yes?"

"I-I have questions," I said.

He waited.

"You said I have to pretend to be your girlfriend," I started.

"I did."

"For how long?"

And why?

He shrugged, his gaze drifting behind me. "For as long as we're here."

"We're?" My brows furrowed. "As in you and Bree?"

He looked at me, briefly. "Yes."

"You're her brother."

"Yes."

It made sense. Neither of them looked entirely human. They were photoshopped images come to life.

"And," I took a breath, "when this is over, you'll delete the video?"

"Yes."

I nodded. "And..." I grimaced. "I'm not going have to do anything...with you, right?"

I hadn't been able to sleep, trying to figure out exactly what he meant by 'pretend to be my girlfriend'.

"The most we'll do is hold hands," he said. "And only in public."

Relief rolled through me. "What's your name?"

He blinked. "Brandt."

"Why are you doing this?" I said it before I could decide not to.

He paused and my throat tightened. If I'd made him angry—

His expression didn't change. "You bother Brielle."

I blinked. "What?"

I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, but that wasn't it.

He started walking. "Is that all?"

I hurried after him. "Why are we here?"

He didn't look back. "You need to dress the part."

My brows furrowed. "For what?"

He stopped in front of a closed store. He knocked on the glass. A shadow shifted inside.

"There's a dinner tomorrow. We'll be attending."