My Dark Prince (Dark Prince Road, #3)

by Parker S. Huntington

“Hey, where are you going?” he called after me.

“To clean up your wardrobe.” I didn’t bother turning to face him. “I thought I saw a few old things in there you can give away to charity.”

I planned on emptying his ent...

I’m going to cry.

Please livestream. You know I love a good meltdown.

She was up to something.

I bodied past my staff, sauntering through the vast hallways of my mansion, mainly to double-check that Briar hadn’t set anything on fire in the twenty minutes it had taken to feed Al Capony and Usain Colt.

I turned everything I touched into shit. Ruined everything. Unfailingly. Including my relationships with Sebastian, Briar, and my parents.

“Skyn ultra-thin, though Trojan Magnum are okay, too.” I ignored his joke. “Briar is being a hellion. I don’t know what’s wrong with her⁠—”

“Have you tried unplugging her, rebooting, then plugging her in again, but this time without ruining her life?”

Maybe it was the tension from having the hottest woman on the planet rub herself up and down on me, twenty-four seven.

“If you care about her so much, why did you agree to leave her?”

Because of you, I wanted to scream. Because I was too busy trying to make things better for you. Trying to fix you. I couldn’t save both of you, so I chose you.

“You took away any chance at happiness I had. I’m taking away yours. Leave Briar Rose, live your miserable life without her, and remember what it’s like to have what you care most about ripped away from you.”

“Don’t worry, Ollie. If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure she hates you less than I do.”

She wants you to lose your mind and whatever’s left of your patience, I reminded myself. She probably regained her full memory and knows you won’t confront her about it.

Briar was goading me. She wanted to push the boundaries. To see how far she could take this before I confronted her, so I could make an even bigger ass of myself.

I invented petty.

“Funny you seem to remember so many things about your past these days, Cuddlebug.”

Okay. Now I knew she remembered everything. Every shameful detail that brought us here.

“You’re right.” I focused on not coming in my pants like someone half my age. “Please, continue.”

And while you’re at it, when did you regain your memory? How long have you be...

My dick, however, was very clear about its feelings. It wanted to burst through my zipp...

I slammed my glass down a little too hard, sloshing gin over the rim. “What specifically?”

Briar’s answer came instantly. “His brows.” “His brows,” I deadpanned. She tapped her chin. “And his teeth.” “His teeth?” “And he likes reading smut.”

Damn, she arrived to this dinner with receipts.

I could only imagine what she’d say about me when my turn inevitably came.

“He’s always been obsessed with you. I realized it when I saw the two of you at the hotel for the first time. You’re it. Everyone else was just a distraction.”

My fiancée. What a joke. The jig was up. Briar was on to me.

I wheeled both my suitcases toward the double doors of the master bedroom, ignoring Oliver when he appeared at the frame.

And yet, the idea of them conducting an affair made my skin crawl and my stomach churn.

Oliver closed the doors behind him and blocked my path. An array of emotions flew across his face. Anger. Surprise. Determination.

“You regained your memory.” His nostrils flared. “You remember everything.”

“Don’t you think I deserve to finish our conversation from the Grand Regent after everything I did for you?”

“Saved your life, took you in, nursed you back to health, flew all your shit across the country, just so you could have a sense of normalcy.”

Fifteen years had passed, and I never got closure. After so much time, it shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.

Sorry, Seb. I can’t stay here with this bastard.

“I had to make executive decisions. That apartment wasn’t fit for you, anyway. No security whatsoever. And the car was older than you.”

“You’re vintage.”

“What? I like v...

My so-called fiancé didn’t follow me out as I dragged my suitcases down the gravelly driveway, trekking the entire quarter mile without a single footstep behind me.

It was exactly what I wanted. To leave him, and the past, behind. Yet, it also felt like breaking up all over again. Maybe moving on isn’t the same as letting go.

Apparently, my guests had an appetite for the shit show called my life and not so much the vegetarian menu I’d curated to appease my fake fiancée.

My ex-fake fiancée.

I’d tried to stay tough, to play it cool, to pretend her words didn’t singe their way past my skin and into my deepest layer.

If I tried, I could block the way to the airport at the drop of a hat. Hell, I could make a phone call to some board members at Delta and United and cancel all outgoing flights from the area for the night if I truly put my mind to it.

I wanted the bicker, and the banter, and the sexual tension, and the constant attempts to one-up each other. And still…I let her go.

My own family had no faith in me. How could I expect Briar to?

I threw myself into the task of healing my brother and cut off all connection to Briar, knowing my presence would only complicate her life.

I threw my glass of whiskey on the window and watched as it shattered to pieces, liquid gold slithering down the bare concrete.