A Game of Hearts and Heists: A Steamy Lesbian Fantasy Romance (Girl Games Book 1)

“You dreamt of her last night, didn’t you?” Stirling’s face peeks into my bedroom doorway, wearing a devilish grin. “Uhh, Quinn. Ohh, baby… Come for me, Quinn… Come for m—”

I launch a pillow at her head, which gives a delightful thud as it smacks her head and the door.

“My Gods,” I groan and roll over, flinging an arm over my face. “What time is it?”

“Late, eleven. Was it a good dream?”

I peer out from under my arm, squinting in the mid-morning light. She bounds into the room and slams herself down on my bed, bouncing my body up from the mattress.

“If you’re going to attack me that viciously, you could at least bring me coffee.”

“We’re out.”

“Well, seeing as you’re disgustingly perky this morning, didn’t you think to… Oh, I don’t know… maybe go and fucking get some?”

“One, I am not perky. Two, you’re only miserable because it’s been that long since you got laid that your own dreams are having to masturbate for you.”

“Well, if you stopped cock blocking me, I could get laid.”

Stirling curls into me so I can spoon her.

“You smell like sweat and feet. You need a shower,” she says, but hitches into my stomach anyway, and I slide my arm over her waist. “You realise why I keep interrupting?”

“I assume this morning’s torture is going to involve a lecture. Please enlighten me if it will lead me to coffee faster,” I groan into her shoulder.

“Because you’re not ready. I really want you to be happy,” she rolls over to face me, “to let yourself be happy. Let yourself do what your heart already knows it wants.”

I purse my lips together. It’s far too early for this. She picks at my pyjama sleeve, threading her finger through a hole. “You don’t have to look after me anymore. We’re not kids. I know you felt responsible for me for a long time after they died, but… we’re okay. Yes, it’s been tough, but whose life isn’t? You’re allowed to do stuff for you. To choose happiness.”

“Am I? And what about you, hmm? Miss secretly happy because the love of her life is suddenly back on the scene.”

She stops fiddling with my top. “It’s not about me this morning. Don’t fuck this up, okay? You have the potential for a good thing with Quinn.”

I lean down and kiss her on the forehead. “Go away and find me coffee. I need a shower.”

“That deal I was brokering in the Velvet Mansion is sinking. I need to manage it ASAP. I’ll be home before we need to go to Quinn’s this evening. What time was it again?”

After we finished recruiting we went for pizza, like Quinn promised, and then agreed to meet at the back of her shop tonight ready to plan and train.

“Six.”

“Alright, see you tonight.”

She closes the door.

“I still want that coffee,” I shout after her.

“You’ve got legs,” she bellows, and then the front door slams shut.

I get up, shower, and get dressed. When I’m ready, I open my rucksack looking for my purse. My fingers fumble across a hard leather book.

No. Not a book.

I pull Quinn’s journal out and flip it over and over. I’d almost forgotten I lifted this from her shop. Our whole house is a mess of boxes and white walls. We’ve spent so long packing everything up, I’ve not taken anything out of a box or bag in days.

I smile, imagining the absolute furor she must have made when she realised. She looks all sweetness and light on the outside, but I see her dark side. It’s the vicious gleam buried in those green eyes that I love the most.

My fingers caress the spine and run down the pages. Should I open it? See what’s inside? I hesitate. I didn’t take it to invade her privacy. It was a joke, another way to wind her up. I pull Chance out of my pocket and run my thumb over the gilded letters.

“Tell me what to do,” I say and flick her up. She spins in the air, red-gold-red. She lands, and I flip her onto the back of my hand.

Gold and ruby red shine at me.

“Guess I should open it then.”

I peel the front cover open, genuinely expecting it to be blank or filled with scant notes about herbs and poisons.

But that’s not at all what I find.

There’s a note in there.

Dearest Sister,

Where are you? We’re worried. We’ve not heard from you in days. Is everything okay? Is the shop busy? We’re hopeful it’s just a busy trade period and not anything troublesome.

Father is antsy. He misses you but doesn’t want to beg you to come home—too proud, as usual. He also fears trouble is brewing. The atmosphere here is unusual. Heightened security. Guards tread on eggshells, and there are dozens of them everywhere.

Mother, of course, is dealing with it by drinking herself into a stupor. And of course, that makes father fly into his usual rages.

We tried the recent herb mix you suggested for me. No luck. It didn’t work. But then neither of us really expected it to, did we?

Why don’t you spend your time on other things? Dating perhaps? Rather than working all the time.

Isn’t there a lovely woman locally? What of that meddlesome Assassin you speak of? Mother talks of finding you a nice legacy magician. I scoffed, of course. We’re not of that calibre, no matter what father does.

Please reply. I need to know you’re okay.

Yours in blood and bonds

M.

Well, well, well, Ms. Adams. It’s not a blank journal after all. This has to have been touched by a spell worker. And Quinn has spoken of me to her brother? Interesting.

And of course, once I start thinking about her, I can’t get her out of my head. Over and over, my thoughts drift to Quinn. Always fucking Quinn. She’s a parasite invading my mind. One minute I’m plotting how to crush her business, the next it’s those plump lips, the way her hips are wider than her tiny waist. The way we almost fucked against the race stand, the way I had to stare out the carriage window to stop myself from ravaging her body inside the carriage. She’s a kind of madness I don’t know how to deal with. This is futile. Stirling is right. I can’t pretend to woo her because I actually want to win her as much as I want vengeance. How can I have both?

Because when I imagine bringing her body close to mine and slipping the blade between her ribs to nick her arteries… When I picture the light fading from her eyes forever, I can’t breathe. My chest tightens and my lungs cinch. I have to physically bend forward and clasp my knees.

I wipe the thoughts away, a haze of confusion filling my mind.

And I’m left with one horrifying prospect.

If I’m not going to kill Quinn, what the hell am I going to do about my business?