Page 87 of My Dark Prince
“Grant.” Dallas’s eyes sparkled, practically radiating waves of pure delight. “How fun. How long were you together?”
Briar held the back of her scalp, her eyes narrowed, obviously trying to make sense of the revelation. “Long, I think.”
“Alright, that’s enough of your bullshit,” I growled at Dallas, stepping into the swarm of women and planting a hand on the small of my fake fiancée’s back. “Sweetheart, let’s go home.”
“She’s remembering things,” Dallas protested. “You’re interrupting our progress.”
“She has migraines, and I don’t remember Doctor Cohen mentioning anything about flying her around the globe and showing her places to help her recover. She needsrest.”
“I’m trying to help.”
I bared my teeth, downright feral. “Everything you touch turns radioactive.”
“I want to remember.” Briar stepped away from me, shooting me a glare. “Yes, my head hurts, but this is vital if I want to remember. It feels like ages since I woke up from my coma, yet I’ve had no progress. You don’t understand what it’s like to not have your memories. My memories areme.”
“You’re still you, Cuddlebug. Funny, and smart, and gorgeous.”
“And clueless, and disoriented, and frustrated. Why don’t you want my memories to return as much as I do? It’s our love story I’ve forgotten.”
“I do.”
I don’t.
The second she regained her memories, she’d be gone. And I wouldn’t be able to chase her. Not without breaking my promise to Seb.
And why, exactly, would you chase her, asshat? She’s not yours. In fact, she hates your fucking guts.
“I don’t believe you.” She spun toward the door before I could reply, tracing the painted wood like it would grant her the keys to the past. “Grant was a long-term boyfriend of mine. Two, maybe three years.”
The revelation slashed away at my chest like someone had run a sword through it and tossed bleach all over the open wound. I had no right to be upset, considering what I’d put this woman through. And still.
In fifteen years, I’d never moved on from her.
Never had a relationship spanning more than two hours, let alone two to three years.
“I’m just trying to help,” I explained, watching Briar’s frown deepen as she took me in. “Doctor Cohen said to avoid anything that might upset you.”
“Wait, how did you get here so fast?” Her eyes bounced between me and the corridor before darting between her kidnappers as if they held all the answers.
I pocketed my phone, now that I no longer needed Dallas to answer my goddamn calls. “My private plane.”
“Oliver, this is absurd. Why didn’t you call?”
“I did. I called all of you as soon as I found out you were here. None of you picked up.”
“Oh.” Briar fished out her new phone from her pocket, blinking back at the one hundred missed calls. “Mine was still on airplane mode.”
Farrow shrugged, picking at dirt beneath her nail. “Mine is always on Silent mode.”
“You don’t have my number,” Hettie chimed in. “I’m just your friend’s lowly cook.”
“I got your calls. I just ignored them.” Dallas kissed Luca’s head, turning back to Briar. “So, what else do you remember?”
“There’s a common room here with a pool table.” She jerked a thumb behind her. “I want to check it out. I think I remember something important that happened there.”
“Aw.” Dallas wiggled her brows. “You and Grant doing the nasty on the table?”
“No, it has something to do with Hazel.”
