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

“Well?” I say. My jaw as sharp and pointed as my tone.

I’m pissed. With her.

“Out with it, or are you planning on handcuffing me to the counter and leaving me again?”

Yeah, I’m really pissed. I hate games. But that’s all we seem to do. Tit for tat. Scar for scar. I wonder if she had to stitch her rib last night. Probably not. I didn’t really stab her. More nicked the skin.

Scarlett’s lips twitch. My glare falls to her mouth. Bubbles froth in my veins. I glance at the wall and consider whipping down a blade and hacking them off her pretty fucking face.

“I thought you’d enjoy a bit of you time. You’re always so tense, Quinn. You need to relax,” she says, grinning.

I swear I’m going to poison her in her sleep. I march out from behind the till, a finger pointed at Scarlett’s chest.

She juts out her chin and folds her arms. My insides burn. I swear there’s a curl of fire fizzing up my throat. This woman is infuriating. How dare sh—

Scarlett’s gaze follows the swing of my hips.

Left, right, left.

I bet she’s imagining me in that dress from last night, the slit high over my hip.

Unbelievable.

I’ll ‘slit’ her for leaving me chained up. This won’t go unpunished. But as I reach her, my finger an accusing millimetre from her chest, the bell tinkles and one of the Queen’s guards walks in. I shove past her and approach the guard.

“Can I help?” I say, a little too quick.

“Ms. Quinn Adams?” The guard says.

“Yes?”

“Her Majesty Queen Calandra of New Imperium requests your presence at the palace this evening.”

He hands me a white card.

“How unusual.”

The guard nods at me, and then his eyes flick over my shoulder.

“Oh,” he says. And then walks inside the shop straight up to Scarlett. She’s leaning against the counter now.

“This is unexpected,” he says.

I gawp as he strides to Scarlett.

“Lady Grey?” he says.

“It’s just Scarlett now.”

Lady. Pssht. She was never a lady; I don’t care if she’s a legacy magician. How can you call an Assassin with as much blood on their hands as her a lady?

“But you are Scarlett Grey?” the guard says.

“Yes, that’s me,” she says, exasperated.

He hands her an identical card to the one he gave me. Her mouth drops open, a furrow appearing in-between her brows as she skirts from him to the card. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”

“Not, in fact, kidding,” the guard says. “Her Majesty has specifically requested the presence of yourself and your sister this evening. And she does expect your attendance.”

“Huh?” she says. “But we’ve been banished from the palace for five years. We weren’t even allowed to go back to our own mansion to collect our belongings. What in the royal fuck does the Queen want with me?”

I didn’t know that. I mean, I knew she’d been banished. Obviously, I looked her up after the first time I met her, at that Roman guy’s party. I needed to find out which soon-to-be-dead-girl had taken my blade from me. But I didn’t realise they were forbidden from going home to collect their belongings. That seems… unnecessarily harsh.

“Well, Lady Grey, it seems you are banished no longer… And as for her business, that’s above my pay grade, I’m afraid. I’m just here to deliver the message and ensure you come this evening.”

Scarlett flips her card over, staring at it. It’s identical to mine. On the front is gold foil, and on the underside is the symbol of the Sanatio Plant, the Queen’s family emblem. “You’re certain this is for me?”

“Unequivocally. Well, I’d best get back to her majesty. Do see that you attend this evening. Both of you.”

And with that, he’s gone.

I shake my head, turning the card over. This should be good.

“I guess I’ll see you tonight,” Scarlett says.

I glance up at her. Her face is bright, open. Her eyes, despite being the ice blue of glacier water, burn with the heat of a thousand flames. I notice a streak of red creeping up her neck, but I can’t work out if she’s angry or going to cry.

I hesitate, my muscles pushing me forward, urging me to go to her. But my brain forces me to stay put. And then, whatever she was thinking evaporates.

She stands straight, her posture perfect, chin up, neck pale again, exposed.

“Well, this was delightful.” Scarlett stares at me, holds my gaze, probing.

The fuck is she up to?

I narrow my eyes at her, which only makes her smile harder.

“For an Assassin wannabe, you’re rather attractive when you’re angry.”

“Well, you’re more attractive when I can’t see you.”

She laughs and pulls open the door. “It was a pleasure, Poisoner.”

“Go fuck yourself, Assassin,” I spit.

But the door slams and I can hear her laughing as she disappears down the street.

Scarlett Grey.

Absolute dick.

Shamed.

Outcast.

Stripped of her position almost as soon as she was given it, so the whispers say. Father would murder me with his bare hands if I brought a woman like Scarlett home. Not that I would. She’s a complete arse. Entitled too, like all those rich legacy brats. Thinks she can take whatever she wants from me.

I return to my counter, my mind still reeling from the strange invitation. I put the card down, realising I don’t actually know why she came here.

She bought nothing. She didn’t even really say anything. A cold sleeve of gooseflesh ripples up my arms and down my neck.

“What the fuck?” I freeze. Glance under the glass worktop. I swear I put it there.

I did. I’m sure I did. I’m so careful.

I scramble beneath the till, flinging papers and receipts, poison recipes and detritus on the floor.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?”

My breath comes heavy and hard. Splinters of adrenaline tingle between my ribs. My eyes sting. No. I cannot. I absolutely cannot have lost it.

I shove shit off the glass display, run to the other side of the store and check by the backboard. I check under the racking, on the shelves. I notice the Queen’s invite, then peer at the door.

“Mother. Fucker.”

I only took my eyes off her for a split second. One second to welcome the guard. She couldn’t have.

Why would she?

I glance around the store, the floor, the shelves. Back to the counter. It’s not here.

She fucking stole it.

My teeth grind against each other. I’ll kill her. It’s the most important thing I own. It’s the only way I can talk to Malachi.

I wrench the door open, knowing before I even step out onto the street that she’ll have gone.

The street is busy. Too busy to see much. It’s too narrow.

I let out an exasperated scream. It’s loud enough an old lady in front of me startles. Her eyes widen and then thin as she tuts at me.

“Oh, go fuck yourself. Miserable bitch,” I growl as I storm back into the shop.

She will not get away with this. I snatch a vial of poison off the shelf and flick the lights off. How dare she. Too furious to stand and serve in the shop any longer, I grab my keys and lock up.

You don’t steal from me, and you definitely don’t steal my journal.

This isn’t a game anymore.

It’s fucking murder.

There are two things I hate: playing games and Scarlett fucking Grey.