Heartless Prince: An Accidental Pregnancy Romance (Royally Unexpected Book 2)
Page 5
I bite my lip. My mother accidentally broke her hip because of the mere idea that my aunt would encourage me to go to the castle. What if she found out I was going for a private dinner party?
What if she found out I kissed Prince-freaking-Damon?
I take a deep breath. “Okay, talk to you later. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, kiddo.”
I hang up the phone and flop down onto my bed. My roommate, Elle, pokes her head in. Her eyebrow arches.
“Going somewhere?”
“No.”
“You just pack your suitcase for fun?”
“I like to be prepared.”
Elle grins. “You weirdo.”
“Weird people are the best people.”
She laughs and then tilts her head to the side. “Prince Damon seemed pretty into you yesterday.”
“What makes you say that?” I answer, averting my eyes. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and get off my bed again, turning to my suitcase. “I thought he was pretty casual.”
“Casually checking you out as if he’s been stuck on a desert island, and you’re the first woman he’s seen in ten years. If that’s what you meant, then yeah, I’d say it was pretty casual.”
“It’s not like that,” I respond, waving a hand. “I’m just doing this for you.”
“And I appreciate it, Dahlia. More than I can say.”
“How are things going between you and Prince Charlie?”
Elle sits on the bed and watches me unpack my suitcase. She folds her arms behind her head and stares at the ceiling, sighing.
“That bad, huh?” I grin.
“No, they’re that good. It’s perfect. I mean, it’s too perfect. What am I doing, Dahlia? I should be focusing on my studies, and on the rowing team. Not some doomed relationship.”
“You keep saying that,” I smile. “Whether you think it’s doomed, or you think it isn’t, you’ll end up being right either way.”
Elle nods her head and my thoughts flick back to Prince Damon.
Maybe I should take my own advice. Every time I’m in the same room as him, he sucks the air out of my lungs. He makes me blush, and laugh, and makes my whole body burn up.
But… it can’t be real. I’m a Raventhal. My family was exiled. How could I possibly have a future with Prince Damon?
I’m like Elle—completely, utterly doomed.
Elle is talking, but I don’t hear a word of it. I put the last of my clothes back in my dresser and take a moment to compose myself.
I am a sexually liberated, open and honest young woman. I do what I want. So how come one little itty-bitty kiss with Prince Damon has me thinking about a future with him? I practically have baby names picked out and everything.
This isn’t me.
“What do you think?” Elle says, leaning her head on her fist.
I snap my head toward her. “Sorry, I missed that last part. What did you say?”
“I knew you were a million miles away. What are you thinking about?”
“It’s nothing,” I say, forcing a smile. And I mean it. It’s nothing. Whatever happened with Prince Damon, and whatever happens at this dinner party, it means nothing. It’s going nowhere. It’s bad enough that I’ve come back to Farcliff—my mother can hardly handle the thought of it.
Before I get involved with anything to do with Prince Damon—before I even think about it—I need to know the truth about what happened between his mother and mine.
“What should I wear to this dinner party?”
Elle scoffs. “Don’t ask me. You’re the fashionista here. I live in sports bras and sweat pants.” She flashes a smile at me and I laugh.
She’s right. Elle is an athletic, no-nonsense person—the last thing she thinks about is fashion. I practically had to force her to wear a dress for the Prince’s Ball last month.
“I was thinking something a bit more demure,” I say, opening my closet.
“Do you own anything demure? I’ve only ever seen you look like a rainbow.”
I throw her a glance over my shoulder and purse my lips. “I’ll have you know my wardrobe is very versatile.”
“Oh yeah? You had me fooled.” Elle laughs.
I try to go back to how things were in my mind before today—before the kiss. I try to let my shoulders relax and not worry about this dinner party at the castle, not think about who the royal family are or what they did to my mother…
…or to the Queen.
But I can’t.
Questions fly around my head until I feel dizzy. If Elle notices that something’s wrong, she doesn’t say anything. She’s probably too busy worrying about her own whirlwind romance with Prince Charlie.
At least she has a romance to speak of. I’ve only kissed Prince Damon once, for Farcliff’s sake. I force a smile and drag Elle back to the living room, where we stuff ourselves with food and watch bad TV until our brains turn to mush.
When she goes to bed, I lay back on the couch and listen to the silence of the night. I decide that whatever this feeling for Prince Damon is, it’s wrong. Even if there is a spark between us, I can’t pursue it.
Not until I know the truth about what happened with our mothers. Not until I know it’s safe for me and my family in Farcliff. Not until I shake this stupid curse, and I know that I won’t put my mother in the hospital by seeing him.
But when I close my eyes, I see the Prince’s face. I feel the whisper of his lips over mine, and my skin burns where he touched it.
I let out a long sigh. I already know I can never have him.
DAMON
THE NEXT TIME I see Dahlia, she’s exiting the royal car that picked her up, stepping lightly up the wide palace steps.
She looks incredible. I thought Dahlia would be wearing something crazy and colorful, but instead, she’s wearing a curve-hugging black gown. It’s cut high on her neck, but all I’m picturing is what she looked like with nothing on. I’m dying to rip that dress off her the moment I see her.
I thought she was sexy before, but I had no idea. She’s a goddess. Pretending to be interested in her tonight won’t be a problem.
“You ready for this?” Charlie glances at me. His eyes are dark, and I know he’s worried. If our father doesn’t believe that Dahlia and I are together, Charlie will be in trouble.
But right now, as Dahlia flashes a bright smile at me, I’m not worried about Charlie at all. I extend my arm to her and she slips her hand into the crook of my arm, and nothing exists except her.
“Dahlia.” I nod, pulling her a bit closer.
Her cheeks flush pink, and my heart races. A sharp current zips down my spine and I resist the urge to run my hand down to the small of her back.
I lead her to the formal living room, where my father awaits. Dahlia does all the right things. She curtsies when she’s supposed to, addresses him how she’s supposed to, and never hesitates when she’s speaking about her supposed relationship with me.
I just sit here, wanting her.
Before dinner even starts, I know my father believes we’re really together. I catch him looking at me when I’m busy staring at Dahlia. I’m not even trying to pretend—I just can’t stop looking at her. My father’s brow arches and he exhales slowly, leaning back in his chair. His eyes turn back to Dahlia.
“Studying chemistry, was it?” The King asks.
“Microbiology,” she responds. Dahlia’s hands are folded on her lap and her back is straight as a rod. Apparently, her aunts in Colorado gave her formal etiquette training while living in the woods. I’d have never guessed that she grew up with only her aunts and forest animals as company. I’d have guessed she was raised in a palace like this one.
I take a seat next to her and she leans into me ever so slightly, as if there’s a magnetic attraction between us. It feels right having her beside me. My fingers itch to slip that dress off her body and run my hands over every bit of her. The thought of dragging my tongue between her thighs makes my cock throb.
As the conversation moves away from Dahlia and on to current events, I see Charlie breathe a sigh of relief. We might actually pull this off. If Father believes that Dahlia and I are together, it gives Charlie a chance to figure his own shit out.
We’re past the hard part—getting my father comfortable. Now all we need to do is make it through a twelve-course dinner. As long as my father has a few more glasses of wine, everything should be fine.
He’ll think Dahlia and I are together. He might even want to invite her back to the castle, which would mean I’d get to see her again.
Who knows how long this charade will have to last? How many more times will Charlie and Elle need us to pretend?
Hopefully many, many times, if I get my way.
I lean back in the sofa, my eyes drifting over to Dahlia again. Her fingers are curled around a wine glass, her lips barely touching the edge of it. She’s wearing soft, pink gloss, and I wish I could taste her lips again. A smile drifts over my face, and all my worries about the past—about my mother, about Dahlia’s mother, all that controversy—start to drift away.
For the first time in years, I start to feel like I’m at peace.
It’s all in the past, and maybe we can build our own future together. Who cares about intrigue and royal plots? Who cares about something that happened fifteen years ago? What about the here and now? What about this… whatever-it-is between us? What about Dahlia and me, wanting each other?
Isn’t that more important than some stupid family feud?
But then, the living room door opens and every set of eyebrows in the room arches at once. My aunt Malerie steps through, dressed in a long, black, velvet gown. Her skin is deathly pale, and she looks at us all one by one.
“Mal,” the King says as he heaves himself out of his chair. “What a surprise! We weren’t expecting you back until summer.”
Her eyes swing around the room, coming to rest on Dahlia. A chill runs down my spine, and Dahlia shivers, too. I put my hand around her shoulders.
“What’s this? A dinner party?” Mal’s eyes swing to my father. “I’m offended I wasn’t invited.”
Charlie and I exchange a glance—that’s Aunt Mal for you. Never attends any events, but gets upset when she isn’t invited to them. She’s always been this way.
“I didn’t know you were in town,” the King responds, waving a hand. He walks over to kiss his sister’s cheeks.
Her eyes stay trained on Dahlia. “Who do we have here?”
“Auntie Mal, this is Dahlia,” I say after I clear my throat. “I believe you two met a long time ago—about twenty years, give or take. She’s Tabitha Raventhal’s daughter.”
Mal’s lips tug into a smile—and not a nice one. Not that I’d ever describe Aunt Mal as ‘nice’. Her lips twist into a cruel sort of smirk, and her eyes flash with malice.
“Of course,” she says. “I remember your christening.”
My thoughts flick to the newspaper clippings in the archives. She was offended about that christening, too—at least I know that part of the story is true.
The air in the room grows heavy until my father claps his hands and calls for the staff. “Set another place at the table for Lady Farcliff.” He turns to my aunt. “Mal, tell us about your travels. You were in Canada, were you not?”
Mal glances at Dahlia for a second too long, and then nods. “Yes, on a skiing trip. Beautiful.”
I glance at Charlie, trying to see what his take on this situation is. Why would she be back so early? How does this change what’s going on tonight? Charlie just shrugs. His face looks a bit tighter than it did ten minutes ago, but he doesn’t look worried. My father seems surprised, but not upset.
I’m the only one who seems mildly uncomfortable—mostly because of the way Aunt Mal looks at Dahlia, and because of everything I read in the archives. But I brush it off. It is unusual to have a Raventhal in Farcliff, after all.
Dahlia relaxes a bit as Malerie talks about her ski trip. Aunt Mal has been in and out of our lives for as long as I can remember. She’ll go on months-long trips, sometimes gone for a year or two before reappearing in Farcliff without warning. The last time I saw her was four years ago, at Charlie’s twenty-first birthday.
It’s not unusual for her to pop in like this. It’s just… uncomfortable.
For me, at least.
Her eyes swing over to me, and I can’t read them. She’s always taken a keen interest in me, especially after the Queen died. It’s like my aunt felt responsible for me, but I’ve never felt entirely comfortable around her.
When the maître d comes to lead us to the dining room, Mal shakes her head. “I’m off again, I have business to attend to.”
“You can’t stay for dinner?” The King asks. “Now I’m the one who’s offended.”
I cough to hide my laugh.
My aunt shakes her head. She kisses all of us on both cheeks as she takes her leave. I wrinkle my nose. She still smells like onions.
When she gets to Dahlia, she keeps her hands on Dahlia’s shoulders and stares into her eyes. “It was good to see you again, Miss Raventhal.”
“You too, Lady Farcliff.”
Mal grins, and another shiver passes down my spine. When she’s gone, I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t know why, but I’m glad she isn’t staying for dinner. The way she looks at Dahlia makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It makes all the alpha male instincts inside of me scream to step between them, to rip my own aunt’s head off for giving Dahlia a look like that.
It makes me feel like I’m losing control, and I don’t like it.
But Aunt Mal leaves, and I relax.
As the meal progresses, and the wine flows, my desire for Dahlia grows. I forget about Aunt Mal’s appearance. I forget about the looks she gave me and Dahlia. I forget about the Archives, and the past, and the fact that the only reason for this dinner is Charlie’s budding relationship.
All I can think of is the girl beside me. I wish I could carry her back to my bedroom and act on the feral, caveman urges that are becoming hard to contain. I don’t taste any of the food, because all I could think about is tasting her.
The kiss we shared woke something inside me—something I haven’t felt in a long time. I’ve been so focused on my studies, so focused on being the son that my mother would have wanted…
…and it feels good to feel like this. To feel something other than duty.
Don’t get me wrong—I’ve partied. I go out with Charlie and Gabe, but my face isn’t splashed across the tabloids like theirs are. I’m the studious one. The quiet one. The responsible one.
The monk who gave up his royal privileges to pursue his dream of being a doctor.
I’m the good guy.
I don’t feel like being the good guy right now. I want to do every bad, dirty, filthy thing that has ever crossed my mind, and I want to do it with Dahlia.
I don’t want to be quiet. I don’t feel like shrinking into the shadows. Maybe it was even Mal’s appearance that made me feel more protective of Dahlia. It made me feel like I need to claim her, to make her mine and make sure everyone in Farcliff knows it.
I slide my arm across the back of her chair. My father’s eyebrow arches, as does Charlie’s. Dahlia doesn’t seem to notice. She leans into me almost instinctively again, and my heart skips a beat.
Dahlia acts like a proper lady. She knows how to speak and what fork to use for each of our twelve courses—but when she looks at me, there’s a spark. That spark says I’m like no one you’ve ever met.
Maybe I’m imagining things—maybe I just want that spark to be there. But I know something special happened between us in that basement archives. That kiss was… electric.
This a new feeling—a pit-of-my-stomach urge to take
her. An uncontrollable wave of desire.
A need for Dahlia Raventhal.
I glance her way every few seconds. I can’t help myself.
At least it has my father convinced that she and I are together. Now, if only I could convince Dahlia to give me a chance, too.
After dinner, I walk her to the front gate.
“Thanks for coming tonight.”
“I actually enjoyed it.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am,” Dahlia laughs.
We stand in front of each other saying nothing. Dahlia’s tongue swipes across her lower lip. A driver is waiting next to a black sedan to take her back to her house, but I’m not ready to let her go.
“You want to go for a walk?”
Dahlia tilts her head. “I’m not exactly wearing appropriate footwear.” She kicks out a heel to show me.
“A walk through the castle, then.”
Dahlia chews her lip, hesitating. Her eyes drift over to the wide double doors behind me, and then up to the spires above us. I know she doesn’t trust me, or my family. She’s nervous.
But all I can do is stand here and hope that whatever I’m feeling, she feels it too.
Dahlia inhales and finally swings her eyes back to me. “Screw it. I’ve never been to a castle before—might as well make the most of it.”
“You’re telling me the daughter of Tabitha Raventhal has never been to a castle?”
“I grew up in the woods with three eccentric aunts, remember?”
I grin and hold out my arm. I wave at the driver to tell him he can relax for a few hours, and I lead Dahlia back toward the palace. She inhales sharply as we step over the threshold, squeezing my arm with hers.
“Come on, I’ll show you the Great Hall.” I smile and Dahlia blinks up at me. A smile slides across her lips and an irresistible flush creeps over her cheeks. She nods, and I lead her deeper into the castle.
DAHLIA
WHATEVER RESOLVE I had to keep my distance evaporates in an instant. Prince Damon has a hold on me that I can’t explain. Whenever I’m with him, I can’t think logically. Every fiber of my being wants to be near him, to hear him, touch him, smell him.