Defiant Prince: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Black Rose University Book 1)

by A G Henderson

  Megan waved a hand in my face as if she wasn’t right on the other side of the table.

  “I know this isn’t easy for you,” she said, “but don’t be a dick. Introduce me to the girl you managed to trick into liking you.”

  Emily scoffed. “He’s not my keeper, and I’m perfectly capable of introducing myself.” She extended a fist. “Emily Brennan. You might know my brother, Erik. And I’d offer to shake your hand, but I probably have pizza sauce under my nails and that’s gross.”

  Megan wore a confused smile as they bumped knuckles. “I didn’t know Erik had a sister.”

  A shadow passed over Emily’s face before she banished it.

  “I get that a lot,” she said. “It’s...complicated.”

  Megan looked like she wanted to ask something else, but Lake cleared his throat.

  “Drama at Black Rose,” he said flatly. “What a surprise. I’d like to say I don’t give a damn, but when your shit spills over onto Thornwood it becomes my problem. My drama. I fucking hate drama.”

  “All you had to do was find a watch,” Chrom drawled, pulling his eyes from Megan for the first time since she appeared. “If you’re not up for the task then—”

  Fletcher slammed the watch onto the table and slid it across to me. “Finding it wasn’t the issue. The problem is why it was taken.”

  Tension lit up my spine, a Christmas tree of stress I did not fucking need.

  I grabbed the watch, checking it over while I eyeballed them, waiting on the bomb to drop. And they had to be carrying. It would explain their initial aggression more than anything else.

  Well, aside from whatever the hell was going on between Chrom and Megan. But since Lake hadn’t lunged across the table to strangle him yet, I assumed that hadn’t reached a tipping point.

  Keyword there being yet.

  Chrom wasn’t being nearly as sneaky as he thought he was flashing her smiles when he thought we weren’t looking. And she wasn’t doing a great job pretending to be unaffected either.

  “Apparently,” Lake started, scanning my face, “your campus now has a ghost problem. I’m sure the name Kaylee Vandyke means something to you?”

  I went still as a statue, painfully aware of Chrom’s hard stare and Emily’s close attention to my sudden iceberg status.

  But as the bars on the cage of lies I’d built over the years began to strain, I didn’t hear the creak of metal.

  Inevitability played a crashing symphony that swelled with the beat of my pulse while one word rode the chorus, standing out above everything else.

  Penance.

  Penance.

  Penance.

  32

  Emily

  Ambrose was more quiet than usual as he drove us to his parents’ house early the next afternoon. Since the guy generally made silence an art form—forcing others to decipher what they could from the slant to his dark eyes or the tic to his steel-cut jaw—it said a lot that he spoke less than usual.

  A better person than me may have brushed it off. Given him the benefit of the doubt. Accepted that dating the leader of an exclusive club with more power than any college student should hold would come with its fair share of secrets, some of which were no doubt none of my damn business.

  And that better part of me did exist.

  I’d brushed off watching him receive an envelope of cash with ease.

  I’d never asked about the times he showed up with newly-bruised knuckles after the four of them went somewhere late in the evenings.

  I’d accepted the pre-existing feud between the Tarots and the Thornwood boys without blinking or asking why they acted like they wanted to tear each other’s throats out at each interaction.

  But I wasn’t dumb either.

  Kaylee Vandyke.

  That name got dropped into conversation, and for several seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, the black hole that was Ambrose LaCroix...froze. No more expansion. No more devouring the universe.

  He’d been caught on the back foot, shocked in a way I’d never seen before.

  Make no mistake, his recovery had been something awesome to behold. Ambrose had chalked it up to some idiot playing an unfortunate trick, pocketed the watch, and gotten us out of there before a waitress could even come by and offer another round of drinks.

  He’d been so smooth, in fact, that I’d almost been convinced despite my misgivings. At least until I saw the look Chrom gave him on our way out the door. The fun-loving football star had been suspicious. Oh, he played it off when he noticed me watching, but he wasn’t secretive by nature either.

  “You’re quiet,” Ambrose said softly.

  When I turned, his shades were a mirror showing nothing but my own reflection. My hair was a tight braid, every stray lock twisted into submission. I’d considered straightening it, but I had a bad history with flat irons and a burn on the back of my left ear to prove it.

  My usual tiny skirts hadn’t seemed appropriate, but jeans would be too tight if I got nervous, so I’d settled for an off the shoulder black dress that flared at the waist and dropped to just above my knees. A pair of nude, kitten heels completed my holy shit I’m meeting his parents and need to dress like I didn’t roll out of his bed right before this—which I did—look.

  And as we stopped at an honest-to-God gatehouse—complete with black iron bars and a guard in the booth with a military haircut and matching glare—leading up to an expansive estate, I found myself regretting the fact that I’d turned Renata down when she offered me her set of Tiffany jewelry.

  “My mom would be so annoyed right now,” I said, doing my best to focus on anything other than the nerves playing gotta crush ‘em all with my intestines.

  “Why’s that?” Ambrose asked as he drove through the gates.

  I gestured at myself. “This is how she’s wanted me to dress for years. Like a princess fit to inherit the kingdom when I’ve always been closer to the type that would get caught in the barn with a stable boy.”

  His cheek twitched, and there was laughter in his voice when he said, “Are you comparing me to a stable boy? I can’t tell if I should be offended.”

  “Never fear, you’re too pretty to be a stable boy, LaCroix.”

  “Don’t count me out just yet.” He pulled to a stop in front of the mansion. “If you’ve got a kink involving flannel and a haystack, speak up. I’d be glad to indulge you.”

  Ambrose leaned towards me, and despite the questions trapped somewhere between my heart and tongue, not meeting his lips with mine wasn’t an option.

  He took his time, carefully trapping my bottom lip between his teeth and pulling until he stole a whimper from me. His tongue slicked across the same spot when he let go before sweeping into my mouth for a searing exploration.

  I pushed towards him, hands going to thighs like steel cables so I wouldn’t collapse against him completely the way I wanted. Already, I was a tongue flick away from climbing into his lap.

  Since his parents’ first impression of me included watching me be belittled by my mom before escaping with their son, I imagined being caught in a compromising position wouldn’t be a great next step.

  “We should go in,” I managed, easing back into my seat with deep breaths to banish the heat in my chest. “Before I end up wasting the two hours of prep it took to look like this.”

  “It wouldn’t be a waste,” he said, flashing a quick smile. “I did get to see you like this after all. Wait here.”

  A blush stained my cheeks and it got worse when he came around to my side and opened the door for me, offering a hand up.

  I took it and let him help me out of the lowriding vehicle, arching a brow. “Careful there. Someone might mistake you for a gentleman.”

  His fingers locked with mine as we headed for the marble steps. “That would be their mistake. I’d have to introduce them to my bat.”

  “I still can’t believe you did that.”

  “Why not?” He rang the doorbell. “I distinctly remember telling
you that I was going to break his legs the day you told me what happened with your knee. It’s not my fault that you thought I was joking.”

  “Because who would casually include that in conversation!? A crazy person, that’s who!”

  He had the gall to wink at me. “Crazy for you, maybe.”

  I made a show of curling my nose and trying to shake his hand off. When that didn’t work, I covered my face with my hands and clicked my heels together.

  His low chuckle floated to me. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Pretending I’m Dorothy,” I answered smoothly, clicking my heels once more. “No place like home and all that. I obviously fell down a rabbit hole and found myself in Oz. So, no choice but to try and get home.”

  “Alice falls down the rabbit hole, cupcake girl.”

  “Of course you would know that!”

  I went to push him right as the door opened and I froze as his Mom’s smiling face peered out at us. My hands were still on his chest, and I cleared my throat and dropped them to my sides. If anything, her smile broadened, easing some of the harsher planes of her face. A gift if there ever was one, because Madeline LaCroix was both gorgeous and intimidating.

  Her dark hair fell in a sheet around her shoulders, and the sensible, dark blouse and pencil skirt she wore gave me the impression that she’d just gotten in from the office. When her husband stepped up beside her in a matching suit, that theory took on more weight.

  Some of the tension I’d been holding onto fell away as they moved aside and waved us in, exchanging a glance when Ambrose took my hand again. He’d told me they worked together, but it was still refreshing to see them both dressed to impress.

  I’d never understood how Mom could be content doing nothing but hanging out with other rich women, shopping, and cooking before Dad got home.

  I wasn’t saying that it was impossible to do exactly that and be content. But to me, it didn’t feel like a life. It felt like playing a role.

  As grateful as I was to my dad for getting me into Black Rose and letting me use his credit card no question asked, I didn’t want to rely on anyone’s generosity long term.

  I couldn’t think of anything more miserable than being trapped by a debt. Forced to base every decision on whether your actions would keep you in someone else’s good graces. No thanks.

  I blinked and found three pairs of eyes watching me expectantly as we moved deeper into the foyer. Foryay? Wasn’t that how Mom used to say it?

  Head in the game, girl. Sweat the small stuff later.

  Looking around, a genuine smile crossed my face as I took everything in. Whoever had decided the college and the rest of Kingswood needed to make everyone who saw it immediately aware of its wealthy background had thankfully missed the LaCroix home. There wasn’t a speck of gold in sight and it was the most refreshing thing I’d seen all day.

  Everything was black, silver, blue, or some mix of the three with clean lines and a lack of interior walls that made the space seem almost cavernous. I thought for sure I’d need a walkie talkie and a guide if I wandered down too many halls because I’d never find my way back otherwise.

  Summoning years’ worth of eloquence and learning, I muttered a soft, “Wow.” Then, realizing how dumb I was making myself look, I returned my attention to the couple before me and said, “Sorry, I think I was a little dumbstruck for a second there. Your home is beautiful. It’s very...”

  “Obnoxiously big?” Mrs. Lacroix smiled. “You can say it. I promise I won’t take offense.”

  “There was a good reason for it,” Mr. Lacroix said, throwing an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “There was a time we thought for sure we’d have more than one kid. Having enough room for them to have a wing or two to themselves seemed...prudent.”

  I glanced at the devilish guy beside me, trying to picture another two or three of him roaming around, causing hell. What if one had been a girl? I squinted, attempting to picture Ambrose with softer features and longer hair, but it didn’t really work. It mostly weirded me out more than anything. But I remained curious.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Each of them exchanged a look and I had a horrifying moment to wonder if I’d just stuck my foot in my mouth regarding a deeply personal topic before they laughed.

  Mrs. LaCroix shook her head and pegged her son with a harmless glare. “Sixteen hours of labor, that’s what happened. This one didn’t want to come out until the drugs had stopped working and I was ready to murder every doctor present with my bare hands. To prevent being brought up on homicide charges, I decided I’d never go through that again. This one agreed”—she elbowed her husband when he started laughing again—”because he knew the alternative.”

  He nudged her.

  She bumped her hip against his.

  They traded playful shoves before turning to stare into each other’s eyes.

  Enough heat crackled between them that I felt the need to fan my face, and I could hear quiet cursing beside me.

  “Jesus,” Ambrose muttered before raising his voice. “Can y’all just...not? Please? For two seconds?”

  His dad’s eyes gleamed. “A healthy sex life is a good thing son. You better hope that in another thirty years you can still—”

  Ambrose raised a hand. “I will walk right back out this door if you finish that sentence.”

  Mrs. LaCroix pretended to pout. “You’re no fun, but fine. We’ll drop it. I’m sure we’ve already scarred your girlfriend enough as it is.”

  Girlfriend...

  His hand flexed around mine.

  I slid my eyes his way.

  Neither of us denied the claim.

  “To the kitchen then,” she continued, “before my spaghetti sauce boils over and I have to start over.”

  “Spaghetti?” I asked, trailing along beside Ambrose as we followed his parents.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t eat spaghetti,” he said. “I’ll have to rethink my life choices if they’ve led me to a girl like that.”

  I shook my head. “I love spaghetti. That’s just...not what I was expecting.”

  “Don’t think too highly of me,” Mrs. LaCroix called over her shoulder. “Our chef is on vacation, so we’ve been surviving on the basics this week. I hope you weren’t looking forward to caviar and a five-course meal, because all I’ve got to offer is sauce that’s probably already burned, a heaping of mozzarella to hide it, and a glass of wine.” She stopped as we sauntered into the cozy kitchen, glancing back at us. “Assuming you two are planning to at least stay the night. Otherwise, no wine. Like my father always said, never do more than two illegal things at once.”

  Damn it, why does she have to be so likable?

  I glanced at Ambrose, but he tilted his head, leaving it up to me to decide.

  A fresh surge of warmth snuggled up to my heart before stretching out through the rest of my limbs. I couldn’t blame this one entirely on lust, either. No matter how much I was always looking forward to jumping his bones at any given time.

  “We’re staying,” I said with a smile so wide it hurt my cheeks.

  Mr. LaCroix retrieved the wine and a cork, pulling out the stopper. “Fantastic. Pick a seat, you two. And fair warning, if anyone tries to get the first piece of garlic bread, I’m not responsible for my fork ending up in your hand.”

  The sun had set on a beautiful evening by the time Mr. LaCroix stretched and yawned, relaxing into his seat. His hand found his wife’s atop the table like it was second nature, and I watched him maneuver his fingers around her knuckles like he was playing for an orchestra only they could hear.

  As imposing as they could be, I once again found myself undeniably drawn to the easy way they loved each other. Thankfully for both Ambrose and myself, they hadn’t made any more sex jokes the rest of the night or made too many googly eyes at each other, but they also didn’t need to.

  In them, I saw something I hadn’t seen from my parents since I was a little girl.

  Two peop
le acting together as a unit.

  She’d reach for the pepper shaker and find that he was already slotting it into her hand. He’d pushed away from the table at one point to grab a fresh bottle of wine and she’d caught the napkin in his lap before it hit the floor without looking. One of them would start a sentence, take a bite of food, and the other would shake their head before completing the thought like it was normal instead of completely unheard of.

  And I guessed for them, it was normal. Ambrose didn’t seem to make a big deal out of it.

  Sure, I’d had a lot of fun marveling at how cute he looked when his parents did something particularly embarrassing, but I never got the impression that they were putting on an act for my benefit either.

  They’d been genuine. Hilarious. The best hosts I think I’d ever had the honor of sitting down to eat with, and that wasn’t the two glasses of wine I’d had talking either. I made sure not to go overboard, so while I was a bit floaty and happy, I wasn’t anywhere close to drunk.

  Even if I was, I definitely would’ve sobered up when Mr. Lacroix stood while his wife fixed her stare on me.

  “Son,” he said. “Let’s take a walk.”

  There was no room for argument in his voice. As my levity died a slow, whispering death, I had to at least appreciate how he didn’t pretend. There was no fake excuse for them to leave the room. The time for the inquisition had arrived, and Mrs. Lacroix had picked up the baton without preamble.

  Ambrose squeezed my thigh, lingering at my side with a silent question in his eyes.

  I nodded, offering him a small smile.

  He rose slowly, glancing around the table before leaving the room on his dad’s heels. I watched his back disappear around a corner and swallowed before I directed my attention to the full brunt of the firing squad aimed my way.

  However nice she’d been, those dark eyes—the same shade as Ambrose’s—made sure I understood that there would be no more joking from here on out.