Page 3 of Twisted Little Game

I nod. “Who needs protection?”

Yegor slides his phone out of his pocket, stepping over to my side. He opens a trashy website for celebrity news, and at first I think he’s playing a cheap prank on me.

But the headline at the top reads:

Younger Landrey Brother Expelled From Manhattan U Falcons, Spiraling Amid Controversy.

The pictures show a young jock.

Very toned.

Blond.

“Pretty, isn’t he?” Yegor asks. “You know how many people would kill to spend one night with this guy?”

The first photo shows Tate Landrey outside a nightclub wearing a black tank top that seems specifically designed to show off all of his most prized muscles.

Superficial athlete’s muscles, of course.

He couldn’t last twenty seconds in a real fight.

There’s a man on his left side and a woman on his right, and both are kissing each of his cheeks, the woman digging her fingers into his blond hair. He holds up his free hand to flip off the camera, biting his lower lip.

My gaze passes over the word “bisexual” in the gossipy article about him, and I reach down to scroll past it.

“Little Landrey is coming here,” Yegor says.

I glance up. “Am I supposed to know who this person is?”

“You know who Luke Landrey is, yes? You’ve never heard of Tate?”

“Luke Landrey, the Reapers’ quarterback?”

“Someone doesn’t read the news,” Yegor says. “Tate Landrey is Luke’s younger brother. Their whole family is football royalty. Tate was set to go pro in a few years, until he got kicked off of his college team. He’s fucked. A black mark on the Landrey family. They tossed him in a summer of intensive therapy, and then decided to ship him off here upstate for his next year of college.”

I glance back at the first photo. “So this boy is coming to Crimson.”

Yegor nods. “Aleksander heard news that Luke Landrey was looking to hire a bodyguard for his brother. I thought you’d jump on the job.”

I frown.

Yegor is getting jobs from our other cousin, Aleksander, now? These two shouldn’t hold any power in the family.

They will need to be handled.

Eventually.

I keep my eyes glued to Yegor in front of me, never glancing over toward Maks in the shadows.

“I don’t want this job,” I tell Yegor. “I could only bodyguard when I’m not in my own classes, anyway.”

Yegor peers at me. “I know you don’t have that many classes this year. You only need one or two to finish. You’re trying to drag out your time in college. The whole family can see it, Roman.”

I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek, staring at him.

This is why I keep everything to myself.

Why I don’t talk to people.