Page 186 of My Dark Prince
With a quick shake of my head, I forced out that weird inkling churning in my gut. Of an impending catastrophe.
“You’re being ridiculous, Briar.”
With that, I pulled my shoulders back and stormed to the master bedroom, bumping into my first evidence of doom. The shut double doors. Olliealwayskept them open. An invitation for me to walk in whenever I pleased.
I hesitated, my fingers latched onto the knob. The erraticthump-thumpof my heartbeat ricocheted between my ears.
This is silly. You sleep here. Open the door.
I knocked first. No answer. I pressed my forehead to the wood, closing my eyes.
“Ollie?”
Nothing.
A memory slammed into me. Of Oliver, keeping me out of the gates of this very house, watching me in the pouring rain as I begged for him to let me in.
I couldn’t help it.
I reeled back, rattled and shaking.
Unable to escape our ugly past as it held me hostage.
Chapter Eighty-Five
Briar
Age nineteen.
I made the fatal mistake of checking Oliver’s Instagram page. On the bench, between classes, beneath the blistering Texas heat, with a sandwich clamped between my teeth.
He finally updated his Instagram again, after a twenty-month hiatus, following that airport picture.
I ignored the notification for a blissful second, approved my scholarships and grants offers for next school year, and moved back to Insta like it had some sort of magnet pulling me in.
“Oh, fuck it.”
I clicked on the app, pulling up his profile and clicking on the picture.
A sprawling mansion with black iron wrought gates.
The caption read:Forget the imposters. There’s a new (dark) prince in town. This one is actual royalty. Time to spend Spring Break throwing some rad ass parties on DPR. Great things to come.
Was reverse image searching the mansion on Google a stalker move? Of course. Did I care? Absolutely not. Hear me out – maybe Oliver deserved a stalker for everything he’d done to me.
The result came in embarrassingly fast. I had the address pulled up in less than ten seconds. Potomac, Maryland. 88 Dark Prince Road. What happened to Oliver’s common sense, and did he leave it at that lake house with Lindsey? The Oliver I knew would never make such a dumb move.
I could get there cheap enough with a low-cost flight.
I could.
I had the stipend for it and a bit of savings.
A year had passed since our breakup, and yet, it felt like just yesterday when he carried me on his shoulder from a Parisian bar, broken and sobbing, and watched me sleep in a hotel room, even as his entire family pressured him to return home.
A wave of emotions crashed into me, drowning all logic in my head. I was sad, elated, angry, scared, desperate, and anxious all at the same time. More than anything, I knew I couldn’t leave us like this.
It was time to get some answers.
