A Game of Hearts and Heists: A Steamy Lesbian Fantasy Romance (Girl Games Book 1)
A Game of Hearts and Heists: Chapter 9

It worked. Scarlett saw me stroll past the queues and straight through the Border. I don’t often take to stalking women. But I had to make sure she saw. How else could I convince her I’d be useful? I entered the Border and then raced down to a gatehouse further down. She doesn’t need to know I didn’t spend long inside or what I was doing. As far as she knows, I’ve proven what I said to be true.

And it is true, of course. I do know the Borderlands and the palaces. I just can’t tell her why. Not if she’s really going to hurt my father. I wish I understood what he’d done. Why she’s hell bent on hurting him.

If I can convince her to work with me, I can find out what her problem is and rectify it. Then everybody wins.

I know my father. He’s done some nasty shit. Killed a few men even. And yes, he might tax the trade routes. What else was he going to do? Weeks went by after The Tearing, and no one came for us. No one helped. We were trapped with supplies running out, and someone needed to take charge and get control. Without him, we all would’ve died. He keeps everyone in line. Stops the looters and Border gangs from attacking the traders. He does a good job. I can’t imagine what the issue is. But if we work together on this mission, I’ll be able to sort it out. And Stirling can help me negotiate.

It’s early afternoon by the time I get to the apothecary, and I’m dishevelled and in need of a shower. The Borderlands are hotter than New Imperium in the day and far, far colder at night. The weather is a monster all of its own in there. Storms like I’ve never experienced. Heat that makes water pour from your face, cold that should only be found in the most northern regions of the realm.

Scarlett and Stirling won’t know what hits them when we get through the Border. How the hell I’m going to drag a team through undetected, let alone into the old palace and through my father’s security, I have no idea. But I suppose I have no other choice than to try. I have to protect him.

I pull my hair into a messy bun, hair and fly aways springing around my face. Fucking hair. I should cut it all off. The only reason I haven’t is because father loves the way the curls frame my face. And that’s when I realise cutting it off is exactly what I should do. Father and the palace soldiers will all recognise me. I’ve always had long hair. If I want to get through the Borderlands undetected, I’m going to have to go in disguised.

I close the shop early for the day and go to the barbers. I only have to wait a few minutes because it’s drop in.

“Are you sure?” the barber says, his eyebrow set to firmly raised.

“Billion per cent. Get rid of it. Leave styled curls on top and shave the sides. I’m over it.”

“Right you are, Ma’am.”

I hesitate and shut my eyes the moment he takes the scissors to my hair. There’s a grinding slice, slice, slice, and then my head is lighter.

I grin. Totally the right decision.

As he cuts and trims and uses the clippers against my scalp, my smile gets wider and wider. It makes my neck and jaw look more defined. I’m never going to be thin. I like my tits too much to even try. But this new style definitely makes my face brighter, and I love the smile that will not leave my mouth.

I thank the barber and leave him a generous tip. Then head home for a quick shower and change. I’m hoping Scarlett will bite today. She saw me, I’m sure. If she has any sense, then she’ll come and find me. There’s no way she can go with just her and Stirling.

I shower, threading my hands through my hair. It’s so short that my hands pull away faster than I expect. The sides bristle against my palms. And then I’m imagining not my fingers, but Scarlett’s, caressing the sides, stroking my head.

The space between my legs heats. Even though I’m in the shower, I’m slick. I bite my lip. This is a dangerous game to play. She wants to murder my father. The last thing I should do is have any untoward thoughts. But… But I’m alone…

My hand slips between my thighs, my fingers finding my apex, rubbing rhythmically as images of Scarlett flood my mind. I close my eyes. Scarlett appears beneath me. On her knees, her braid soaking from the shower raining down. Mentally, I strip her clothes away, imagine her watching me as I pleasure myself. Her hands grip my thighs hard. Her grip presses into my skin hard enough to bruise. A moan escapes my lips at the thought. She pushes her face into my flesh, her tongue lapping at my core. Heat courses through my body. My legs tighten as I imagine her standing, pulling me towards her, kissing me so I can taste myself. My fingers sliding to her pussy. The higher I push my body, the more I picture, the faster my core reaches its peak. Images of Scarlett shoving me against the wall, worshipping my stomach, biting my nipples, gripping me like she owns me. Her hands roaming everywhere.

I can’t take it anymore. My thighs shudder as waves of pleasure ripple through my core.

It takes me a moment, but I pull myself together and realise what a stupid mistake that was. The last person I should masturbate over is fucking Scarlett. And yet… and yet it was almost as good as the orgasm she gave me in the club prison.

“Fuck’s sake,” I scream and slam the shower handle off.

Okay, that is absolutely the one and only time I ever do that. There’s a thousand women in the realm. I do not need to come over her.

I dress in a tight top that clutches my skin like a hug and a short skirt. My breasts bulge out of the top, but I don’t care. I look good today. I rub curl cream through what’s left of my curls, swipe mascara over my lashes, put some sandals on and glance at myself in the mirror.

“Damn. The haircut is on point.”

This is the most me I’ve ever felt. I practically dance out of the apartment and all the way to the apothecary. I wasn’t going to go, but there’s a delivery due tomorrow, and I need to move the stock around the warehouse.

I unlock the warehouse door at the back of the shop and slip in. It’s dark now the sun has set. But the warehouse has no windows, it’s dim at the best of times. As I make my way through the aisle, my skin prickles and cools. I freeze. Glance left and right.

I strain to listen for anything unusual, but the warehouse and the shop are silent. I shrug it off and continue to the apothecary front to grab my stock journal.

I reach the counter and ice threads under my skin like worms. I reach for a hairpin beneath the counter and pull the cap off, careful not to touch the poisoned tip. Slowly, I step toward the door for the light switch.

Someone is inside. I can throw a mean hook, but I’m short, and having a weapon would be far more advantageous. I hazard a glance to the rear wall where the blades are on display. Too far.

My breath kicks up a notch, clawing like granite in my throat. My heart matches my breathing, thudding against my ribs.

I notice an umbrella in a tall vase bucket by the door. As I flick the light switch, I spin round and grab the umbrella.

And then I scream.

It rips through my lungs, a shrill piercing sound that echoes around the shop as I launch the umbrella at the counter.

I stop screaming, and a roaring laugh comes from under the counter.

“You absolute mother fucker. What is wrong with you?” I shout.

She stands, gripping the counter with one hand, bent double, holding her stomach with the other, tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks.

Dick head.

“One… One…” Scarlett pants through the laughter. “Nil to me.”

“Oh my Gods, you’re… I hate you so much.” But that only makes her laugh harder.

And to my irritation, a hysterical bubble of giggle wobbles up and out of my mouth. When we’ve both finished laughing, I’m still shaking. The shock not quite out of my system. Scarlett pushes a lock of loose hair behind her ear and then rubs her lobe.

“I didn’t mean… Sorry,” she says, realising I’m shaking.

“It’s fi—”

Suddenly, she’s round the counter, her arms wrapped around me, warm, safe. I stiffen against her, but it makes my teeth chatter.

“Relax, and let me make you feel better,” she says and tugs me in a little tighter, a little safer. “I didn’t mean to scare you that bad. I was only playing.”

“You’re still a cock of the highest order,” I mumble into her chest and then relax, letting my arms drift around her waist. The soothing heat of her torso encloses me like a caress. I push the thought away and detach myself from her.

I brush my curls behind my ear. Now awkward and unsure of what to say.

“That was n…” Scarlett starts. I glance up. There’s a strange expression on her face.

Heat rushes to my cheeks. We might fuck, but we don’t hug. The realisation makes my insides knot. “Thanks. For erm. Helping me calm down or whatever. We probably shouldn’t do that again. Anyway. What do you want?”

I’m rambling. I shake my head, brush the curl away. Fucking thing won’t stay in place. That’s the only downside of new hairstyles, takes a minute to work out how they sit best.

Scarlett takes my chin and lifts until my eyes meet hers. “You cut your hair.”

She lets go of my chin and runs her fingers across the shaved patches. The brush sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine. My eyes shut, my mind drifting to the shower and how much I wanted her to do this. My lips part. This is…

We don’t do this.

“Yes,” I say, stepping out of her reach and returning to the counter to put the cap on the hairpin. “Fancied a change.”

“It’s really… it suits you.”

I look at her for the first time. She’s wearing sports kit. Gods. I need to stop ogling her. She has legs for days and her abs are big enough I can actually see them through her skin-tight top. She has those little cuts that run from the hips into her trousers. I swallow hard, hoping it’ll suppress the urge to run my tongue down the lines of her muscles.

Nope.

Didn’t work.

It is entirely unfair that Scarlett fucking Grey is the most attractive woman I’ve ever seen, and she wants to slaughter my father.

There. That’s better. I needed to remind myself of why I hate her. And there are so many reasons. Entitlement. Yes. That’s one. Plus, she stole my father’s blade and let alone the journal. The first simmering bubbles of rage feed into my lungs, breathing the anger like air. This is better. This is where I should be. Because this… between Scarlett and I… it’s a game and nothing more, and it never will be.

It’s a game I have to win. There’s no way I’m letting her anywhere near my father. Steel settles in my gut, a coldness in my throat. I want my fucking journal.

“So,” I say, my voice thick and chilly. “Can I help?”

Her eyes rake up and down my body, and I swear to gods it’s like the silk of her touch. Focus, Quinn.

“I like it. That was all I meant,” she says, her gaze hungry.

My fingers mindlessly run through my locks.

“Anyway,” she says, arrogance oozing through her tone. “I owe you an apology.”

My mouth drops open. I slap my palm to my mouth, a devious grin in my eyes.

“From Scarlett Grey? How controversial. Tell me, what did you do that means I’m bestowed with such an honour?”

Her jaw flexes once. It makes the ice-blue of her eyes darken for a flash. Oh good. I’m getting to her, scratching the edges off that one nil.

“It appears that you were right,” she says, her mouth a tight pinch. I bet she hates having to admit that.

“I waaaas?”

She glares at me, knowing I’m drawing this out for the simple pleasure of having her tell me I’m right.

“About the Borderlands. It seems it’s going to be more difficult than I assumed to get in. And other than the packet of schematics for the palace, and the information the queen gave us, we have very little other intel.”

“I see,” I say and lean on the counter, my breasts plump and billowing out of my top. Scarlett, though, doesn’t bite. Shame. Every cell in my brain knows I shouldn’t want her. But my shower orgasm is well and truly gone. And she looks… I sigh mentally.

“And so you’re here, why?” I ask.

Like I don’t already know.

“My sister seems to think we’d make a great team. Gods knows why. But having investigated the Border this morning, it does seem like we’re in over our heads.”

I nod, stoic, my face expressionless. Internally, though, I’m wearing a shit-eating grin and feeling delightfully smug. One all, Grey. One all.

I lean forward. “For once, I agree. The Borderlands are far more dangerous than you realise, and I have experience that would be invaluable.”

Scarlett steps closer. Her eyes flicker to my cleavage so fast I almost miss it.

Two-one to me.

“Right. Yes,” she gestures in the air, “that’s why I’m here. The only time I’ll grovel. But I’ve reconsidered my earlier position and think it would be best if we maybe…”

“Yesssss,” I say, inching my arms together, bulging my tits out higher, fluttering my lashes at her. Shameless Quinn, fucking shameless.

“If we work together,” she says.

This is where I see my opportunity. I move out from behind the counter and step right up to her. So close that the air between us heats and tingles, our breath mingling. She smells like hot rose, leather and warm skin… I need to control myself. I am in control here. She’s here because I designed it. This is my court, my game. I’ve got this.

“On one condition.” I tiptoe my fingers up over her abs. She stands straighter, that viciously sharp jawline flexing. It does bad things to my pussy. I have to take a breath, push the urge to grab her and fuck her on my counter away.

“And what is the condition?” Scarlett says. She leans forward. Pins me against the counter with her body. Her arms lock me in place where she grips the glass on either side of me.

I could lean back, hitch my ass onto the top, spread my legs and present myself to her. I could reach out, take her hand, slide it up my bare thigh. She’s worked out today, I can tell. The veins in her arms and hands stand out. I doubt it would take much for her to pick me up and throw me onto the counter, pin me down. I glance at her crotch. She’s not packing, I’d get to feel her hard fingers as they pumped in and out of m—

“Quinn?”

“Huh?” I say, snapping out of my thoughts. The heat in my groin shoots to my cheeks, like she caught me out, like she knew exactly what I was thinking.

“The condition?” She’s so close, her lips part as if she wants to kiss me. I can’t concentrate. I can’t think. She’s a fucking parasite wheedling her way through my focus. All I can think about is how much I want her to push me down, part my legs and…

FOCUS QUINN.

“Right. Yes. The condition. Give me back my journal and I’ll do whatever you want.”

Shite. I did not mean…

Scarlett cocks her head, her tongue slipping over her lips and her ice-cold eyes now ablaze. “You’ll… do whatever I want?” Her gaze slides down my body like she’s peeling my clothes off. Gods, I should not want this. I’m furious with myself, and yet… I move a millimetre closer, a temptation, an offer, a tease.

I drop my voice, let a little husk into it. We can both play games, Ms. Grey. “What I meant to say was, I’ll help with your team.”

She laughs. It’s light, fluttery, like my traitorous fucking stomach. She leans in. I close my eyes as her breath trickles over my cheek. The space between our skin is volcanic hot. I have to force my lids open. She holds me captive, time slows, and I’m certain she’s going to take me right there and then on the counter. But then…

“No.”

The word slices through me like diamonds and ice. I push her away, the air alive. My body fizzes a raging internal war; the cold arctic fury she inspires against the feverish need of my clit.

“What do you mean, no?” I grind out.

“I’m keeping it as leverage. Don’t think I’ve forgotten our little business tryst. You help me win the chall—”

“Us,” my eyes narrow. “You mean, I help us win. If we team up, we’re in this together, and I want a blood pact that you’ll give me the money for the Sanatio.”

She shrugs, examines her fingers. “You’ll get your money for the Sanatio. I’ll get my legacy status back. And we’ll all win.”

“And if we don’t secure the map? What about my journal, then?”

“Then I guess we can come up with another kind of deal.” She drops her eyes and smiles. What does… Is she suggesting…

“You know, something like agreeing trade areas, given you’re screwing my business into the ground,” she says.

“Right. Yes, of course. That’s what I thought you meant.”

Lies. It was entirely not what I thought she meant. I need to take a cold shower. Clearly pleasuring myself earlier was insufficient.

“We’re agreed?” I say.

“We complete the mission. You get the journal back. I pay you coin for the plant, and we use the royal favour to get back our legacy status, titles and land.”

“And if we don’t succeed?”

“Then we figure out a new business agreement. You get off my trading land, I’ll keep off yours. And I’ll consider giving you back your journal. Agreed?” She reaches out her hand to shake.

I reach out. “Deal.”

She grips my hand and gives it a firm shake, then she bends my fist until she holds it to her mouth and places a kiss on my knuckles. I suck in a sharp breath. Her lips are warm and soft, and what if she kissed…

“The best deals are always sealed with a kiss,” Scarlett says, a devious glint in her eye.

She releases my hand and stands straight. “Tomorrow eve, then?”

“Where?”

“City Centre New Imperium Park. 9pm. There’s a stone arbour in the park on a hill. We have a full 360 degree view, and we’ll know if anyone approaches. We’ll be able to discuss plans in private.”

“Till then,” I say. Then she’s gone, and I’m left standing in my apothecary wondering if I really have hold of this or if she was winning all along.

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