Page 2 of My Dark Prince
“Sooo …” A woman in an olive dress stared down her champagne flute at my parents, her ritzy accent adding syllables where there were none. “Where are you off to next, now that the Zurich branch is up and running?”
Dad worked for Luxor Trust, a boutique bank that specialized in “massaging rich assholes’ balls.” His words, not mine. He handled management, and his job description included kissing unholy amounts of ass, opening new offices to meet Luxor’s international demand, and dragging our family with him to every billionaire-occupied corner of the Earth.
Since diapers, I’d only ever known the inside of a suitcase. Home was an abstract idea. Somethingotherkids had. At fourteen, I’d already lived in London, Tokyo, Paris, Montreal, Zurich, Riyadh, and Budapest. Despite my American passport, I’d spent maybe a handful of months in the states my entire life. When people asked me where I was from, I said New York. But the truth was, I had no origin. No beginning to my story.
Not if Oliver von Bismarck can help it. Or rather – if you can persuade him to.
“Oh, don’t even get me started on our next adventure.” Mom raked her manicured fingers through her black bob, clawing at Dad’s Prada suit with her free hand. “Jason’s companywants him to open a new branch in Buenos Aires. You know how much I love the city. I’m half Argentinian myself.”
“How is Briar Rose taking all this moving around?” Olive Dress’s husband swirled his wine inside his glass. “Fabienne and I once moved to Alaska for three years. For work, of course. The kids were livid. It must be hard for a teenager.”
“Academically, she’s always thrived.” Mom’s back went ramrod straight. It always did when her least favorite subject came up – me. “She’s homeschooled by a fleet of Europe’s best tutors and finishes her low-residency multivariable calc course at Oxford next week. Le Rosey reached out twice last year to recruit her, but you know how it is with the frequent moves.” A forced sigh squeezed past her clenched teeth. “So difficult to commit to anything.”
What she’d left out was that I’d only taken the class because I’d heard Oliver might be in Birmingham for a week. Just an hour train ride from Oxford.
You’re not even trying to play it cool, Briar Rose.
That ship sailed when I’d started scouring gossip rags for news of the von Bismarck family in between the royal family’s dubious avocado consumption and high-profile Hollywood divorces.
Olive Dress patted Mom’s shoulder. “Well, Briar Rose has always been a bright child. There’s never been a doubt.”
Unlike this stranger, I didn’t delude myself into mistaking Mom’s academic assessment as a glowing five-star review of yours truly. Not when defensiveness seeped out of her like water gushing through a cracked dam. One gust of wind, and Mom would topple over with how stiff she’d turned.
Olive Dresstsked, feigning sympathy. “How’s she coping socially?”
“Socially …” Mom’s lips pressed tight enough to crush diamonds. Every ounce of warmth drained from her cheeks. “Well, she’s a bit shy and quiet by nature. I don’t think she cares very much.”
I do, Mom. I care so much that, sometimes, it suffocates me.
“And we can’t stop our lives for achild, for god’s sake.” Dad pried Mom’s champagne flute from her fingers and discarded it on a passing tray. “This new-age approach to raising kids is not for us. People are raising brats these days.”
My eyeballs prickled. I forced myself to focus on the couples dancing to drown out the pain. Under the layers of fabric, my feet moved to the waltz, kicking the veranda’s railing with each swing. Right foot – back. Left foot – side. Both feet – together. Left foot – forward. Right foot – side. And repeat.
My muscles tingled. Every bone in my body wanted to dance. I watched, transfixed, as people swirled, dipped, and swayed, their laughter zipping down my spine like a shot of espresso.
Buenos Aires.
It was the first time I’d heard about their plans. Jason and Philomena Auer would never allow achildto ask questions out of turn – and certainly not ones about a future they possessed complete control of.
“Such selfish questions upset your father,”Mom would chide whenever I broached the subject of our constant moves.“Are you not ashamed of how ungrateful and spoiled you are? Do you think all kids live in such luxury?”
No. I did not think that at all. Problem was, I didn’t want the designer clothes, skyscraper penthouses, and glitzy restaurants. I wanted fiercely loyal friends, homecooked meals, and rounds of rummy with my parents on lazy holiday evenings. Things Oliver von Bismarck would weave tales about – tales so beautiful and foreign, I didn’t believe they could possibly be true. And yet, I desperately wanted them to be.
One day, I’ll have that. Happiness. Freedom. Friends so close, they’re family.
Mom sighed. “At any rate, we’ve found a solution.”
News to me. A solution? For my loneliness? Maybe they’d finally let me have a dog.
“Oh?” I whipped my head toward them in time to catch Olive Dress leaning forward. “What’s the solution?”
Dad twisted his cufflink until our family crest rested upright. “Briar Rose will be attending Surval Montreux starting September.”
My blood froze in my veins. Surval Montreux was an all-girls boarding school. InSwitzerland. They were abandoning me here. They hadn’t even discussed it with me.
“Surval Montreux?” Olive Dress’ gown rippled as she shrunk back like the mere thought of it recoiled her. “Why not Le Rosey?”
Mom toyed with the Mikimoto pearls resting on her collarbone, eyes drifting away as if the conversation bored her. “Well, we can’t have her gallivanting around Europe unsupervised with boys, can we?”
