Page 61 of My Dark Prince
Good question. He was her husband’s best friend’s absurdly pretty, freakishly talented baby brother. They shared the same street. Surely, Seb visited all the time. I remembered Oliver saying back then that his parents made him promise to let Seb sleep over whenever he wanted.
Romeo dabbed the sauce off Dallas’ shirt with a cloth napkin. “Because Sebastian decided to throw his rowing talent in the trash in favor of living out of his backpack like a retired techbro in the midst of a midlife crisis.”
Seb?Quitting rowing? Living out of his backpack abroad? The same Sebastian von Bismarck that couldn’t eat a meal without turning it into a competition? What happened?
Beside me, Oliver paled. I knew better than to ask him in front of so many people, but I most definitely would the second everyone cleared the house.
Zach nodded. “Truly, I should thank him.”
Farrow arched a brow. “Oh?”
“For years, every time my mother would begin to lecture me, she’d always look across the street at this home and remember that it could always be worse. In hindsight, her horror could be directed at Oliver, too.”
Farrow sighed. “Oh, Constance.”
I stared at Oliver, who’d suddenly found his rosemary bread particularly interesting. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t updated me about Seb. After all, I’d just gotten discharged from the hospital with clear instructions to take it easy. What mattered was that he seemed deeply uncomfortable, and I wanted to help him.
I racked my brain for something positive to say about Seb. A lot came to mind, but I went with the one thing everyone noted the first time they met him. “Seb is beautiful.”
Oliver’s head snapped up. He glanced at the door as if he expected Sebastian to waltz in any second without invitation.
Frankie licked her lips. “I just knew he’d be the more delicious von Bismarck.”
“You’ve never even seen him.” Dallas stole a scallop from her sister’s plate, then a prawn from her husband’s. “You’ve known of his existence for point two seconds.”
“And what a glorious point two seconds it has been.” She leaned toward me. “Tell me more.”
“He’s ripped,” I started. “Absolutely shredded. Wildly competitive. Funny in a weird, hate-the-world kind of way. Freakishly smart without even trying. Whenever he enters a room, I swear every head turns in his direction.”
With every description, Oliver tensed. I’d never seen him so … upset. Not that he didn’t do a stellar job of hiding it. But I’d known this man all our lives, seen every nook and cranny of him, and held him as he grieved his grandma. Oliverwas upset. Maybe he’d gotten in a blow-out fight with his brother. Seb did have a lot of bark to his bite.
I decided to change the subject, turning to Dallas. “Tell me a little about yourself. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a stay-at-home mom.”
“And before?”
“A stay-at-home hostage.”
“Oh-kay.” I waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t, so I focused on her husband. “And you?”
“I’m an international arms dealer.”
The knife clutched between my fingers clattered to the tiles. “Like … actual guns?”
“And tanks, and missiles, and fighter jets.” He flashed me a predator’s smile, all sharp teeth. “If you’re ever in the market for an M67 grenade, you know where to find me.”
“Oh. Okay.” I hid my horror with a forced smile, shifting my attention to Farrow. “And you?”
“An athlete.”
Finally.Someone normal.
“What sport?”
“Fencing. Well,formerfencer. I got caught cheating. It was a whole scandal. Team USA almost dropped me, but I quit anyway and became a coach.”
Oh. My. God. These were my best friends? Were any of these people normal? Zach. It had to be Zach. Oliver once told me he was a total square with no funny bone in his body. (“That would requiref-u-n, and he’s allergic to that.”)
