My Dark Prince (Dark Prince Road, #3)

by Parker S. Huntington

To the girls who taught themselves what love feels like… You turned broken pieces into armor and scars into stories.

I am not the heroine of my story. I’m not the villain, either. I am the side character—in other people’s books.

They say the best revenge is to not be like your enemy. I grew up to be kind, reliable, and responsible. All the things he lacked. Thanks to him, I’m no longer a rose. I’m a thorn.

a boutique bank that specialized in “massaging rich assholes’ balls.” His words, not mine.

That ship sailed when I’d started scouring gossip rags for news of the von Bismarck family in between the royal family’s dubious avocado consumption and high-profile Hollywood divorces.

You’ll never understand the trauma of hopping off a long-ass flight and finding a tarmac full of furries. I thought I landed on the wrong planet.”

“I am very much awake…though a nap sounds just about right,”

“I lead a stressful life, okay?” “I get it. It’s hard being so beautiful and smart when everyone around you is average. I have the same problem. We should start a club.”

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.

“Dude, you’re slower than a dead sloth.”

“What is your problem?” Seb squinted. “A healthy mix of debilitating anxiety, self-doubt, and delusions of grandiosity.”

“Let’s see about your comfort levels when your face spends the night inside a toilet bowl, and you throw up through your mouth, nostrils, and ears.”

Something about her belonged in a fairytale—the early chapters, where life hits the princess like a pile of bricks and she’s on the precipice of discovering what a bad ass she is.

“I’m a sucker for complex families?”

As a kid, her attention made me feel ten feet tall. Nowadays, it stirred something confusing—even dizzying—inside me.

She was more lovable than anything on the planet, Nutella croissants included.

Between the Auers and the von Bismarcks, I didn’t know which set of parents would kill us and which would bury the bodies if they caught us in here with enough booze to sink the Titanic.

“I’d rather smell like an ashtray than reek of bullshit.”

“He’s a twat.” “A rich twat.

The Auers resembled the aftermath of a lemur orgy—an explosion of bushy dark hair, pointy noses, bug-eyed stares, and short stature.

It always astounded me how someone so stunning could come from what could pass as a pair of inbred shifter twins.

“She was made in sin.” “She wasn’t the one who sinned. We did. So why should she bear the consequences?”

“I’m honored to work a blue-collar job if it means getting a glimpse of my daughter.”

“Ollie, what am I going to do? It feels like the sky is falling.” “If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you.”

In this moment, I realized I was truly and wholly fucked.

Today, she’d introduced me to the dark side of love. A land where every burn she received lashed at my own skin like a whip, her losses became mine, and her aches weighed down my bones.

“Run away with me.” I had no clue what dumb-ass, Romeo-Montague, ultra-delirious thought possessed me to suggest that, but as I said it, I realized I meant it. “We could go to the end of the world.”

“Sure. We can run away. Because endless pranks and weirdly timed kisses will keep us fed.”

There’s no mountain too high, no ocean too deep, no planet too far for me to reach you. This is my oath to you. You will always have me. You will never, ever lose me.”

And in that kiss, she sealed my fate. I could never love another. Briar Rose was it for me.

PRESENT.

“Tempting, but I’d rather eat my own spleen.”

I’m a fuckboy, not a con artist.”

“Technically, you’re a fuck-man.”

“My rule of thumb is, I’m only willing to potty train someone who came out of my nuts.”

The kid thought BDSM stood for Bad Decisions and Spending Money.

My heart was all the way across the pond, in Europe, with a girl I hadn’t seen since I was nineteen.

Chasing her benefitted me for the same reason pretending to be a dumbass did—it threw people off my scent. It made them believe I was a shallow, perverted creature of zero scruples.

unintentionally hilarious and as high maintenance as a five-star hotel.

“Put a towel over the linens, please. Those sheets are seamless silk.” “He wants to do it in the shower.” “Wear some slippers, then. I don’t want any lawsuits.”

“What you do with your time and your body is none of my business. Radical sentiment, I know.”

“Intimacy doesn’t need a coordinator. I can tell you what goes where. It’s an all-of-the-above answer, but you don’t need an expert to point out the pros and cons of each hole.”

But I’d believe in you more if you learned to capitalize words.

You are no damsel, and I assure you the people around you are the ones in distress right now.

Frankie Townsend: my heart is broken. Ollie vB: I’m sure it’s just the drugs wearing off. Quick, go sniff some pink coke.

I cared. Too much. All. The. Fucking. Time.

“Sorry, Mr. von Bismarck.” The woman raced at my heels, half-stumbling, half-stuttering. “I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”

“Sir, you can’t go in there.” “Hmm. I smell a bet.”

“I swear the fire wasn’t even that bad. Besides, how could I possibly know that hair spray is flammable? I’m not a scientist.” Pause. “You knew that?” Another pause. “Well, a heads-up would’ve been great before I smoked pot while glamming up every single day for years.”

Don’t throw up. He is not worth your lunch. You had a vegan crab cake. It was delicious. And expensive. Keep it down.