Page 5 of My Dark Prince
He shrugged in that carefree Oliver way. “Business is business. Plus, he bought me a sorry-for-ditching-you-in-your-formative-years gift, and it’s pretty epic.”
“Let me guess. A secret door?”
“First – that topped my Christmas listyearsago. Second –The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobeis a classic.” He spun me so fast, my fingers dug into his shoulders. “He got me a house. On Dark Prince Road.”
Year after year, Oliver lamented the fact that his two best friends lived on the same street while he resided in a quaint, 17,000-square foot manor on the opposite side of Potomac, Maryland. God forbid they caused mayhem without him, never mind that Zachary Sun had a permanent stick lodged up his ass and Romeo Costa couldn’t find Fun on a map with a GPS, a compass, and Dora the Explorer on speed dial. (Ollie’s words, not mine. I’d never met them, and frankly, the possibility scared me. Seriously, Ollie once let it slip that Romeo’s family had left a trail of bodies large enough to fill up a circle of Hell.)
“A house?” I echoed, trying to excavate the pang of jealousy growing roots in my chest. The idea of living near people who loved me was enough to bring tears of envy to my eyes.
“The biggest on the street. Mom says I can live in it the second I turn eighteen – on the condition that I visit every Tuesday and let Seb sleep over.”
At thirteen, Ollie’s little brother only cared about his family and rowing. Sebastian and I got along well, but I found him a little too cold and abrasive for mass consumption.
“You’re going to make your neighbors regret the day they moved there.”
“Mrs. Costa already phoned Mom, begging her to reconsider. It’s too late, anyway. I already built a stable there.”
“For what?”
Knowing Oliver, it could be for anything from a stink bomb studio to a microbrewery. He tended to respect hiswhims, doing as he pleased just because he could. If it were Oliver being shipped off to boarding school, he’d probably hire someone to attend in his place or use the campus as ground zero of a revolution.
Ollie angled his arm, subtly adjusting my posture until proper. “My parents bought me a new horse, who seems to shit his own weight every day. Plus, it’s on the water, and Seb’s dying to practice there.”
“Is he still ridiculously good at rowing?”
“I think he’s headed to the Olympics.”
“And polo?”
“Polo’s been good. We won the national championship.” Ollie brushed his accomplishment off with a shrug. “What about you, Cuddlebug?” He winked. “Break any hearts this year?”
I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or teasing me. Surely, he knew I had no friends to speak of, not to mention admirers.
“I’m taking Latin and Mandarin now. My parents say it’ll pad my college apps.” I rummaged through my brain for something that wasn’t completely nerdy and depressing to impress him with. “Oh, I also made this dress myself. I messed up a stitch or two in the back, but overall, it’s pretty neat, right?”
“It’s perfect.”
I kicked a leg back, then forward. “Thank you.”
He dipped us into another twirl. “So are you, by the way.”
I tipped my head back, laughing. “Now you’re just saying that.”
“I never just say things.” His features sobered, his lips tapering into a flat line. “I’m dead-ass serious, Cuddlebug.”
We slowed to a stop just before the song ended. Enthusiastic claps echoed between my ears. I peered around in a daze. A human circle had formed around us, gifting us a private space to dance. I scoured the blur of toothy smiles for my parents’ faces and came up empty. Meanwhile, Felix and Agnes von Bismarck admired their son with tender gazes. My heart bashed against its cage. Where were my parents? Why did they never take pride in me?
Oliver snatched my hand. “Come quick. I want to show you something.”
We pierced the thick crowd, crept past a private entrance, and ran down a narrow, cobbled stairway. Like all medieval mansions, the good weather did nothing to fight the damp air and frosty chill.
“Slow down.” I tugged my skirts up so I wouldn’t trip on them on the steps. “I’m wearing heels.” They weren’t high, but still. I couldn’t match Oliver’s pace with our fingers laced together, him half-dragging me to our destination.
“Dude, you’re slower than a dead sloth.” He swiveled around and picked me up honeymoon style like I weighed nothing, barreling down the stairs two at a time.
I looped my arms around his neck. “Okay, first of all,rude.”
His chest rumbled with a chuckle, but he didn’t answer me.
