Page 45 of My Dark Prince
“Sober as an angry, freshly rehabilitated uncle on Christmas dinner.” He shook his head. “Didn’t do it in the gardens, even. Right there on the throne.”
I covered my face with both my palms, my ears roasting like Thanksgiving turkey. “You’re lying.”
“Nope.” He popped the P. “Went down on you for forty minutes, too.”
“Now I know you’re lying.”
“Okay, I lied.” He paused. “I went down on you for fifty minutes, not forty.”
I barked out a laugh. He laughed, too. And for a tiny, fleeting second, we were us again. Whatever that was.
Oliver turned right into a broad, tree-lined road. A good mile passed before we reached a massive cul-de-sac. Two mansions spurted from each side at the ends of ceaseless driveways, with a third mansion planted firmly in the center, propped up on a hill that helped it tower over the rest. The homes loomed like three kings, overbearing in their size and architecture. Nothing about the view seemed familiar.
“This is Dark Prince Road.” Oliver tapped the accelerator with his foot, finally driving at a faster pace. “Mine is the right one. It has its own lake. Well, it’s more like an inlet that leads into the Potomac. You’re going to love it.”
I cleared my throat, wondering when it had dried. “You mean ours.”
“What?” He turned to me, confused. “Oh, yes. Ours. Sorry.”
A tiny knot tightened in my stomach. I brushed it away, soaking in the property. “Is this the house your dad got you after he spent that year away on business?”
“You remember that?”
“Yup. I remember you got a horse, too.”
“He’s in the stables out back. I have two now. Usain Colt and Al Capony.”
I giggled into my sleeve. “One for me and one for you?”
He parked beside a Roman statue on the gold-bricked motor court, shot a lingering glance at the windows on the southwing of his mansion, and swallowed hard. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll teach you how to ride Usain Colt sometime.”
“I got a horse and never learned to ride?”
“Believe it or not, you’re not the best at everything.”
I pasted a dramatic pout onto my lips. “That’s not whatIremember.”
He clicked my seat belt off, rounded the car, and opened the door for me. I accepted his hand, wobbling as the last dregs of winter winds slapped me. Lush gardens framed the manor’s towering stone façade. Spires and chimneys pierced the sky. Ivy crept up the ornate columns flanking the double doors.
He lived in a castle.
Welived in a castle.
“Welcome home, Cuddlebug.”
But it didn’t feel like home at all.
For a reason I couldn’t fathom, it felt like someone’s gilded prison.
Chapter Twenty
Oliver
I’d always known Karma knew my address and would pay me a visit sooner or later. But I had no idea she would deliver its punishment in the form of my first and only love pulling a spiky dildo from my glove compartment, forcing me to make an excuse for it.
There was no excuse.
It started as a small test. Something to see if I could function as everyone else did, with props, and unholy amounts of alcohol, and an NDA longer thanLord of the Rings.
