Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 140896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
He’s competitive, but he’s not a sore loser.
Me? I don’t have sportsman spirit whatsoever. What? I don’t take well to losing.
Bran, however, is a total angel, which is why it’s no fun to win against him. It’s impossible to penetrate his walls or talk shit to him.
Then again, it’s easier to lose against him since he doesn’t really rub his win in your face.
He’s usually the only one who comes to this room since, I believe, he’s the sole gamer in the house.
After numerous visits, I’ve come to the conclusion that many men live in this mansion—Bran, his two cousins, his friend, and, most importantly, the devil himself.
My blood roars at the thought of that bastard and his gloating “Checkmate” before he left me stunned in the club. But none of that was as horrifying as the absolute skin-crawling sensation I felt when he touched me.
Not only did he touch me, but he also bit me like some freaking dog.
The shell of my ear is still in flames from when his teeth sunk into it like a starved monster.
It hurt, damn it.
But the pain paled in comparison to the pure terror that shot through my veins.
Even the thought of him now makes my spine jerk and goosebumps erupt on my skin.
I don’t succumb to threats, but his were different. His included a vibrant image of my sister being used for his revenge. Worse, my sister would be used as his response to my hotheadedness.
Maya didn’t initially agree to the plan of giving the bastard a pig blood makeover, but she’s also my ride-or-die and refuses to let me go on these sorts of missions alone.
I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if she were in danger because of me. Over the past week, I’ve been trying to protect her and told her to be careful, but she has little to no self-preservation skills and can’t be left to her own devices.
Maya and Nikolai take so much after Mom’s go-getter personality. They slam in headfirst—either they get their way or they die trying.
I’ve always been like my dad. Silent but deadly. Appears sophisticated but could kill you with a smile.
That sense of confidence, however, seems to have left the building since my ill-fated encounter with Landon.
Not only have I been over-the-top paranoid, but my sleep has been plagued by malicious nightmares from a time in my past that I can’t seem to forget.
I haven’t spoken to Mom and Dad for a while out of fear that they’ll see right through me.
And it’s all because of the bastard who hasn’t made a move.
Every night, I’ve been staring at my window, expecting him to jump through and murder me.
But people like Landon don’t murder. They prefer to leave you hanging, waiting, and scared for your life. They prefer the mental torture and looming threats.
“Are you sure he’s not here?” I show the typed words to Bran as we sit down for a dinner break.
He’s opposite me on the sofa as we dig into Thai food takeout.
We’ve both been playing since we finished our afternoon classes. We’re worlds apart in majors—he’s an art student and I’m studying business management since I’ve always wanted to start something that only belongs to me. Not my parents, not my legacy. Just something that’s purely mine.
Bran says he should be in the art studio, but he’s been succumbing to ‘one more game’ for the past two hours.
He chews on the mouthful of rice and shakes his head. “He’s out wreaking havoc and ruining someone’s—or some people’s—lives. Why are you asking? Are you scared?”
“He should be the one who’s scared after my pig blood episode.” I don’t even feel the confidence as I show him the words.
Bran merely sighs. “I told you it’s not wise to get on his bad side.”
I wince and throw a piece of tomato in my mouth to mask my reaction.
Bran did warn me when I asked him stuff about Landon’s Elite party that night.
I cock my head to the side and study him closely. He’s the spitting image of his asshole brother. But I guess it’s the personality that makes all the difference.
Bran is such a posh boy and what I imagine a well-bred and educated English youth to be like. His eyes are welcoming pools of pure blue, his jaw appears less sharp than Landon’s, and his lips are neutral and by no means a weapon of terrorizing grins.
Oh, and their only real physical difference is that Landon has a tiny mole at the corner of his right eye. A small detail that I noticed the first time I saw them together.
I remember thinking Landon needed to be brought down a peg or two, and I can proudly announce that I’m still of the same opinion.
Hell, maybe he should be locked up for the travesty.