Page 185 of My Dark Prince
Agnes jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion. “Well, what do you want to know?”
“Anything and everything.” Dallas pushed Agnes away from me, helping her onto the couch. She whipped her head around to mouth to me, “Don’t you dare break this woman’s heart.”
But what were my options? I could break her heart today or I could break itaftershe secured a special visa, hopped on three separate planes, landed in Nauru, and hitched a ride to the wedding venue with a generous local, only to discover that I’d abandoned her precious son at the altar. Horrible plus horrible only equaled horrible, no matter how you did the math.
Dallas parked Agnes on the sofa and bombarded her with questions about precious coins.
Farrow ambled my way, her cool eyes taking me in. “You hate the dress.”
I shrugged. “I just … it seems so redundant, seeing as there won’t be a wedding.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Considering I have to consent to the wedding, I do.” I hopped off the podium, strode to the small kitchenette, and poured myself a glass of water. “I love Oliver. I think he loves me, too. Getting amnesia has been surprisingly healing, considering the circumstances.”
Fae arched a brow. “But …”
“But we will never, ever be able to change the fact that I once gave myself up for a man, and I will never do it again. I have a life in LA. A career, friends, and dreams I still haven’t achieved. I can’t stay here. Not when I like myself better with my spine attached.”
“You know, I was the same.” A sad smile nestled onto her face. “I had the worst freaking start to my life. If you told me five years ago that I would let go of control and trust a man, I’d find you a hotel room to sober up in. But God, the reward is so worth it.”
“Zach has never let you down,” I pointed out.
“No, he hasn’t. But consider this – if you’re not the same person you were fifteen years ago, why would Oliver be? That question will haunt you when you return to Los Angeles and realize it doesn’t shine as bright as it once did. You’re only hurting yourself if you don’t have this conversation with him. Give Oliver a chance to do the right thing. Who knows? He might surprise you.”
He can’t.
But Farrow didn’t know about Sebastian. Oliver would never leave him behind, and I would never want him to. I loved Seb, too. So, Oliver and I avoided the topic altogether, both of us knowing the only possible outcome.
“Yes.” I pasted on the weakest smile known to man. “Maybe.”
Chapter Eighty-Four
Briar
We needed to cancel the fake wedding.
Whenwas the only question. We didn’t have many options: now or later. It almost would be easier to call up theMauryshow and let him announce the results for us, considering Ollie and I didn’t want to touch the conversation with a ten-foot, condom-sheathed pole.
Me, because I feared what it meant for us. Him, because I knew, deep down, he wanted to follow me to LA, but he could never abandon his family.
The halo-halo I’d gobbled up at Dallas’ sloshed in my belly as I crept past our gates, trudging the short distance from her home to mine.Mine.Shit, I had it bad. Nothing about this twenty-thousand-foot mansion screamed mine.
Except, the self-destruction voice in my head taunted,the outrageous, frustrating, hotter-than-sin man that owns it.
I loitered by the fountain, drawing out the minutes before I entered. Over the past fifteen years, I’d acquired a sixth sense for calamity. The morbid ability to recognize disasters before they happened. I could’ve used it before Oliver left me in Paris, or before I stumbled upon the Instagram exchange, or even before my parents ditched me.
So, tonight, I did my best to heed its warning, hovering outside until my feet ached and my eyes almost gave out on me, closing without permission. Finally, I inched the front door open, noting the drawn curtains and pitch black.
Utter silence stretched across the cavernous space. The playful vibe that normally clung to the air had disappeared.
I set my purse on the first step of the stairs and turned on my phone flashlight. “Hello?”
No answer.
“Oliver?”
I weaved past the couch and into the kitchen. Empty. Then, I tip-toed upstairs, unsure why I feared breaking the silence. When I got to the top step, I hesitated, glancing at the entrance to the south wing. Dark and empty, as always.
