The feeling of her fingers on my arm doesn’t send heat coursing through my veins, and it doesn’t put another dagger in my heart.
I feel nothing.
“You thought I was broken,” I say.
“No, I…” Her eyebrows draw together. “I wanted to come to Singapore, but you kept telling me to stay away. It was hard, Luca.”
“You thought I’d never walk again, and you couldn’t bear to be attached to someone damaged.”
“That’s not true.” Cara shakes her head, her brown curls trembling around her face. “Theo and I were both so heartbroken when you left. We were so worried for you… It brought us closer. You were gone so long, and when you stopped answering my calls…”
She trails off, her hand squeezing my arm.
I purse my lips, nodding. “I was gone a long time getting my body stitched back together, Cara. You could have jumped on a plane and seen me. You could have moved to Singapore with me. You could have tried harder.” I shake my head, scoffing. “I’m glad I could play Cupid for you.”
Shrugging her hand off, I turn on my heels and walk away. I let my feet carry me all the way to the garages, where an attendant drops a set of keys into my hand. I get into a car and drive myself out of the castle grounds. I need to put some distance between Cara and me. I need some space from her—from her body, her stare, her voice.
I don’t know what to think. Feeling her touch made me feel surprisingly detached, but there’s still the memory of my heartbreak that clings to our interactions. It’s almost as if I want to hurt. I want to be angry. I want to want her…but I’m not sure if I really do.
My foot is heavy on the accelerator, speeding through the unfamiliar streets of Farcliff City. I’ve spent the past year away from Argyle, and right now, I have no desire to go back. I like the unfamiliarity. I like the strangeness of the world away from home.
I like the distance between me and the woman that I loved. The woman that doesn’t love me back.
Maybe she never did.
It’s only when I turn onto the road leading up to the LeBlanc mansion that I admit to myself where I’m going. I stop the car a little ways away from the driveway, hesitating.
I shouldn’t be here. Does it matter if I am, though?
I get out of the car, slipping the keys into my pocket. The air is crisp, and my footsteps are silent as I make my way up the well-lit driveway.
Too well-lit. I step off the asphalt and onto the grass, slinking near the tall hedges that line the property. My eyes drift up to the multitude of windows that stare back at me, and I already know who I’m looking for.
Poison Ivy. The addictive, intoxicating girl who succeeds in making me feel alive again.
The one whose touch sends pleasant shivers down my spine.
The one who promised herself to me.
Even though my life has been a trail of broken promises, there’s something about Ivy that makes me think she’ll keep hers.
Maybe it’s desperation. I can’t bear the thought of another man touching her, when I know she could be mine.
I know that her room is at the back of the building from the time I spent in it the first night I met her. I make my way around the side of the building, grinning when I see her Vespa. It’s forest green, and I wonder if she chose it to match her name. Her helmet is hooked onto the handlebars, and I lean over to sniff it.
I know it’s weird, but it smells like her, and it calms the thumping of my heart.
My footsteps are silent as I make my way around the back of the building. It’s hard to tell which window is hers. Most of them are dark. I circle the building, ducking under a well-lit window and listening for voices inside.
My heart races when I hear Ivy’s voice, and I lean against the building for a moment, just to listen.
19
Ivy
“I can’t believe you kissed the Prince.” Georgie shakes her head, grinning. “I’m proud of you. You do all right, for a virgin.”
“Not a virgin for long, I bet.” Giselle winks.
“Stop it.” I blush. I told the twins about the kiss, but I didn’t have the nerve to tell them about everything else.
“What?” Giselle laughs. “Hey, come on, I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You deserve a little nookie.”
Georgie throws her arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. “You know we love you.”
“I know. It’s just… I don’t know. I’m nearly twenty-one, and I’ve never had a boyfriend. Not even close! Don’t you think that’s weird? Like there’s something wrong with me?”
“I can say for a fact that there’s nothing wrong with you, Ivy,” Georgie smiles. “Nothing serious, anyway.”
I wipe my hands on my apron and let out a heavy sigh. “You know the worst part?” I say, dropping my voice and glancing toward the stairs. My sister is in her room, and I don’t want her to hear this.
“What’s that?” Giselle tilts her head.
“I was ready to do it with him.”
“Do it, do it?” She grins.
I nod. “Right there on the boat. I wanted to.”
Georgie laughs. “You should’ve.”
“That’s terrible advice.” I shake my head, tossing a tea towel onto the counter.
“Isn’t that the reason you keep me around? Bad advice and ill-advised encouragement?”
I laugh, shaking my head. Georgie flashes a smile at me and wraps me in a hug. “Don’t worry, Ivy. It’ll happen when it happens. You don’t have to force it, and you don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”
“I know. I just… I don’t know. It feels like a big deal to lose my virginity, but it also feels like I just want to rip it off like a band-aid. I just want to get it over with.”
“Imagine if you’d lost your virginity on a luxury yacht with the visiting Prince of Argyle,” Georgina giggles. “That beats my first time with Tim Monkford at the back of the bleachers in eleventh grade.”
I smile, shaking my head. Biting my lip, I take a deep breath. “What does it feel like?”
“Sex?”
I nod. “Does it hurt?”
Giselle shrugs when I look at her. “Don’t look at me. You know I’m not into dudes. My one and only experience with a penis was enough to scar me for life,” she shudders.
I laugh.
Georgina grins, shaking her head. “It might hurt the first time. Sometimes it does hurt, but in the best way possible.”
“I’m nervous.” I turn on the faucet to start the dishes. I’ve just put a batch of muffins in the oven, and I can already smell them as they bake. It’s comforting to be back in my kitchen, and I need to do something with my hands. I wash my mixing bowl slowly, replaying today’s events over and over.
The Prince’s gaze, his lips, his touch. My orgasm, and the way his cock throbbed when he came. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the warm water run over my hands.
I feel Georgie stiffen beside me, and I look over at her.
“Did you hear that?” Georgie’s ears perk up as she glances at the window. Giselle nods.
I follow their gaze, but I can’t see anything, until a shadow passes across the window. A large shadow. In the shape of a man. My heart starts to thump, and I gulp.
“Don’t you have security?” Giselle hisses.
I shake my head. “Margot sent them away. Said she wanted to be alone tonight.”
Georgie puts a finger to her lips, nodding her head toward the door.
I nod, wrapping my fingers around the rolling pin on the counter. I follow my best friends to the back door of the house. Georgie scans the room and goes to the fireplace to grab the fire poker and little shovel. She hands Giselle the shovel.
I nod to the twins and gently unlatch the back door.
My heart is in my throat. This is stupid. The best course of action would probably be to lock the doors and call the police.
I blame the twins. They’ve always been a bad influence on me. Both of them run into their pro
blems head-on, bulldozing any obstructions in their path. Their parents ran the Grimdale Diner until they died, and the seven kids took over, working day in, day out to keep it afloat.
They haven’t accepted anyone’s handouts like I’ve done with Margot. They’ve worked for what they have, and they don’t take anyone’s shit.
Georgie’s lips tug into a tiny smile, and my heart thumps. Her blue hair is thrown up in a messy bun, and she grabs the hood of her black sweater to throw it over her head. Giselle’s lips are set in a thin line.
“You go this way,” Giselle whispers. “We’ll circle around the front. I think he’s just around the corner.”
I nod, and the twins disappear. They’re so quiet that even I can barely hear them—but maybe that’s because the only thing I can hear is the rushing of my blood in my ears.
Every step I take toward the edge of the house makes my throat tighten. I grip my rolling pin with both hands, closing my eyes for a moment to compose myself.
Whoever the intruder is, he doesn’t stand a chance against Georgie, Giselle, and me. He’s probably some paparazzi sneaking around the bushes, not respecting my sister’s privacy. She’s been locked in her room since we got home, and I can only imagine how tired and traumatized she is.
Whoever this douchebag is, he deserves to be beat over the head with a rolling pin and assorted fireplace equipment.
I count to ten, and open my eyes again. My knuckles have turned white from gripping the rolling pin so hard, and I inch my way to the edge of the mansion.
Poking my head around the corner, I see the slumped outline of a man leaning against the wall of the house. He has his head in his hands.
Retreating, I gulp down a breath. I stare at our backyard, gathering every last ounce of courage I have.
How do I let the twins get me into these situations? He could be armed! He could be dangerous!
I poke my head around the corner again, seeing movement on the other end. Georgie is there, ready to pounce. With a deep breath, I step around the corner.
Georgie must see me, because she lets out a battle cry. High-pitched and completely terrifying, she sounds like an ancient warrior trilling her tongue as she charges. I see her silhouette brandishing the poker high above her head as she sprints toward the man. Giselle isn’t far behind, letting out a battle cry of her own as she takes off.
I don’t have time to think or hesitate anymore. I just act.
When I let out a scream, the man is already turning to face the twins. Georgie’s pouncing on him, swinging the poker wildly as he tries to dodge her attack. He shouts wordlessly, and I scream in response.
I bring the rolling pin down on his back as hard as I can—so hard the man grunts and falls to his knees.
“Fuck!” he grunts, and my stomach drops. I know that voice.
The Prince.
Georgie runs for another attack, swinging the poker wildly as Giselle runs to tackle him. She’s lost the shovel somewhere in the bushes. Georgina brings the fire poker down on the Prince’s head. He swears again, shielding himself with his arms as Georgie winds back. Giselle rolls off the Prince, crouching into an attack stance.
“Stop!” I cry, running at Georgina at full speed. I tackle her to the ground, and the fire poker goes flying off to the side. We land on the ground with a thud, and Georgie groans.
I roll off her, tossing the rolling pin away as I grunt, half-dazed from the tackle. Giselle stares.
Lifting my eyes to the Prince, I see him clutching his head as he leans on the wall. He lets out a low groan as he swings his eyes to me. Even in the darkness, I can feel the heat of his gaze.
“Coming to your house is dangerous, Poison.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be sneaking around the shadows like some kind of home invader,” I snap. I push myself to my feet.
Before the Prince can answer, my pocket starts beeping. I pull the timer out of my apron and pick up my rolling pin.
“Muffins are ready.”
“So, you knew I was coming? I thought you said you wouldn’t bake for me until hell froze over.”
Georgie groans. “You must be Prince Luca.” She picks up the fire poker, holding it across her body and taking a step toward the Prince. “Ivy told me you were an arrogant asshole.”
“You girls don’t have any respect for royalty,” the Prince says.
Giselle snorts, rolling her eyes.
“Is that what you call yourself?” I retort before spinning on my heels and walking to the back door. “I thought royalty was supposed to act more proper than you do.” The three of them trail behind me, Georgie and Giselle standing behind the Prince as if they’re prison guards. They’re both still gripping the fireplace tools with both hands, snarls marring their faces.
My heart is doing a funny kind of flip as I make it to the sliding glass door at the back of the house. My hands tremble as I slide it open, and I stand aside to let them pass.
The Prince nods to me as he steps through the door, and my panties are immediately drenched.
Damn it.
Giselle scowls. “I don’t like him,” she whispers.
“I heard that,” the Prince responds.
“Good,” she snaps.
Georgie grins. Giselle arches an eyebrow, and her twin shrugs in response.
“I don’t mind him. He took the attack like a champ,” Georgie says, covering her smile with her hand. “Come on, Giselle, you have to admit he’s not that bad.”
Giselle grunts, staring after the Prince suspiciously.
The three of us head to the kitchen. The Prince leans against the counter, his eyes following my every movement. I pull the muffins out of the oven, touching them to check for doneness. I put them on a cooling rack, keeping my back to the Prince.
He groans, and I glance over my shoulder to see him rubbing his shoulder where I whacked him with the rolling pin. His white bandage is bloody, and I wonder if Georgie managed to hit it with the poker. I walk to the freezer and pull out a bag of frozen peas, tossing it across the kitchen to him. He catches it against his chest, grunting in thanks.
I’d help him ice his shoulder, but I’m scared of getting too close to him. The memory of his touch is still branded on my skin, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist him if I get too close.
Being near him feels like standing at the edge of a bonfire. The blaze is hot enough to burn.
So, I keep my distance. I turn back to the muffins, adjusting them and re-adjusting them on the rack. Georgie nudges me with her shoulder.
“You okay?”
I nod. “I’m fine.”
She steals a glance at the Prince, and then gives me a loaded look. Her eyebrows wiggle, and I stifle a laugh. Putting a muffin on a plate, I turn to the Prince and present it to him.
“Your Highness,” I say, extending the muffin toward him.
His lips curve into a smile, and his eyes flash. He inclines his head as he accepts the muffin, and a tremor passes through my stomach.
Not for the first time, I’m glad the twins are here—I’m not sure what I’d do if they weren’t.
20
Luca
I wish Ivy’s friends weren’t here. I know exactly what I’d do if they left.
I’d sweep my hands around her waist and crush my lips to hers. I’d sit her on top of the kitchen counter and pull those ripped jeans off her perfect legs. I’d finally taste her cunt, licking up her juices and devouring her until she came, right here in the kitchen.
But I can’t, because we’re not alone. I take a bite of muffin and close my eyes as the taste hits my tongue. Ivy is so good. Groaning, I take another bite.
“You should open a bakery,” I say.
Ivy and her friend exchange a glance, and Ivy’s cheeks flush.
“That’s what we’ve been telling her,” the blue-haired girl says. She shakes her head, nudging Ivy with her shoulder. The girl’s eyes turn to me. “I’m Georgie, by the way.”
“Luca,” I nod.
Georgie looks between me and Ivy, and a small grin stretches over her lips. She nods to the two of us. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Ivy. Nice to meet you, Your Highness.”
“Wait,” Ivy says, opening her eyes wide at her friends.
Georgie just winks, and the twins disappear through the door. Ivy’s shoulders fall, and I take another bite of my muffin. She turns to me slowly, dragging her eyes back up to mine.
“We’re alone,” I say, wiping a crumb off my lip.
“My sister’s upstairs.”
“I’m not here to see your sister.”
“Why are you here, then?”
I put my plate down, and take a step toward Ivy. Running my fingers over her cheek, I let a smile drift over my lips. “Why do you think I’m here?”
“You enjoy being attacked with a rolling pin?”
“Only if you’re the one doing the attacking.”
There it is—that sexy little blush that drives me wild. Ivy’s face angles away from me, and I drag it back to face me with the tips of my fingers. Leaning down, I brush my lips over hers. I kiss her gently, tentatively, feeling her melt into my body.
Her arms hook around my neck as I deepen the kiss, kicking her legs apart. I push her back against the kitchen island, dropping my hand between her legs.
She’s hot, and I can only imagine how wet she is under those faded, ripped jeans of hers. I tease her through the fabric, dragging my fingers over her and claiming her lips with mine. She moans, gripping onto my shirt and pulling me closer.
Ivy’s movements are jerky, almost unsteady. Every time I touch her, she seems so responsive it makes my cock throb. I can only imagine how she’d feel if I was touching her bare skin again.
Reaching my fingers up to the fly of her pants, I unfasten the button and slide the zipper down. Ivy pants, staring up at me with wide eyes. I stare from one eye to the other—from blue to green and back to blue again. Slipping my hand under her panties, I feel her nails dig into my shoulders.
Poison is so, so wet. I groan, my mouth watering at the thought of tasting her. My lips fuse to hers again, and I slide my hand further through her honey.
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