Not My Fairytale

Chapter 29

**Unedited, lmk what you think!

A Game

    "Let's play a game," Angelo proposed suddenly.

    It was three days after the night he had watched over me at The Den. I was ashamed of the number of times I had replayed it all in my head.

I couldn't seem to help it.

We had danced for hours on that crowded floor, bodies pressed firmly together. If not for the half dozen shots I had consumed throughout, I never would have allowed it.

    But I had no regrets.

    Not even that Franco had found us like that, chest to chest, dancing like commoners. He had been angry, of course, but not for the reason I'd feared. He'd thought that I was being petty and exacting revenge for leaving me all alone. He did not for a second suspect that Angelo could be something more to me than a man who had been at the right place at the right time to dance with the Crown Princess.

    Angelo, luckily, had his wits about him enough to allow Franco to drag me from his arms without a fuss.

    The next day, after another boring tea with my mother and her ladies, I couldn't stop myself from hiking to the willow tree to see him again. And every day after that as well. The mate bond was unforgiving, and I had allowed him in too far to turn back.

I was done pretending otherwise.

    I eyed him warily as he ambled to where he left his bag against a root, not waiting for my response. He glanced up, catching me staring while he reached inside the bag and threw me a wicked grin that made my traitorous heart flutter in a way only he could.

    My lips tilted down when he pulled out a glass bottle. "What kind of game are we playing?"

    He winked. "One you'll enjoy, I think."

    "Are you just trying to get me drunk again?"

He only chuckled, ignoring my narrowed eyes. Bottle in hand, he sauntered to where I sat and plopped himself down on the dirt beside me. He was sitting so close, I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. I knew that sitting this close to him would be the end of my self control as his scent washed over me. I made a show of putting more space between us, and he chuckled like he had planned for that reaction. I shot him my meanest glare.

He poked my nose, unfazed. "Now, now," he cooed, "I haven't even explained the game to you yet."

I wanted to punch him.

As if he could read my thoughts, he chuckled again, "Okay, okay, Princess Impatient." Actually, I wanted to do worse than punch him. Why did I choose to meet him again? "In essence, it is a game of two truths and one lie."

When I did not attempt to walk away, he beamed. "The rules are fairly simple. When it is your turn, you tell me two things that are true about yourself, and one that is untrue. My goal then would be to discern which was the lie. If I guess correctly, you drink," he swirled the contents of the bottle for emphasis, the burning scent of the alcohol assailing my nose, "if I'm wrong, I drink, and vice versa.

He gave me time to mull his game over, studying my face while I thought. If I was smart, I would pick myself up from the ground and walk back to the castle right now. The me from a few months ago would have at least had some quip about how presumptuous it was of him to have brought that bottle on the assumption that I would agree. Instead, I gave him a slow nod, noting the subtle flash of shock in the depths of his electric blues. Maybe I should have put up a little more resistance, but it was becoming so hard to think around him, even without the aid of alcohol. "You first," I murmured.