My Dark Prince: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Dark Prince Road)

I entered Briar’s hospital room bracing myself to get maimed by an angry woman or deal with a cognitively five-year-old child who wanted me to play footsies with her. All options were on the table. It was certainly not beyond the scope of belief that she would see my face, remember the sheer hatred she felt toward me, and immediately try to stab me with any sharp object in the room.

But when I pushed the door open and treaded inside, I found a gorgeous, tired Briar staring out the window, looking very much like her usual self.

“Cuddlebug?”

“Hey, Ollie,” she whispered without turning to face me, her voice casual and raspy. “It feels like the sky is falling.”

All the pieces inside me that I’d managed to glue together haphazardly along the years fell apart, piling in the pit of my stomach like a ruined jigsaw.

I cleared my throat, digging my nails into my palms. “I’ll hold it up for you.”

Finally, she twisted to smile at me, patting the empty space on the edge of her bed. “Don’t just stand there. You have an entire lifetime to catch me up on.”

Oh. Kay.

She definitely didn’t remember the last fifteen years and the fact that I’d behaved like a grade-A prick every single day of them.

I claimed the spot by her thigh, greedily gulping her in up-close. Even without makeup, without her hair done, without trendy clothes, she was still the loveliest sight I’d ever seen.

Her beauty was everywhere. In the pools of purples, blues, and golds in her wild, compassionate eyes. So big, almost drawn, gifting an innocent edge to her chaotic beauty. In her pink rosebud mouth, full of wit and humor. In the constellation of freckles sprinkled on her nose and cheeks, the gentle curve of her brows. In the way I knew her laughter could seep into my bones and warm them up.

There was no point searching for a flaw. I’d find none. I’d spent over thirty years looking.

“I remember being clumsy, but I think I overdid it this time.” Briar sighed, casually weaving her fingers between my own.

My pulse kicked up a thousand fucking notches, but I forced myself to remain calm. Present Day Briar would rather set fire to her own face and put it out with a knife than be nice to me. But this Briar thought we were still friends.

She squeezed my hand. “Can you tell me what happened?”

I could, but that would put her in a stressful situation, and Doctor Cohen told me not to do that. So instead, I did what every man who’d spent the last fifteen years being an irresponsible fuckboy knew how to do. I lied.

“We were at the Grand Regent. You wanted to go for a walk. We went to the golf course, which is under maintenance, and you accidentally fell into a water hazard.”

This was the whitest lie I’d said in a while. Barely even a lie. A subjective truth, really.

She blinked. “What made me walk into a water hazard?”

“We were having an argument.”

She frowned. “What about?”

Yeah, fucker, why don’t you tell her?

I stared beyond her shoulder, at a painting of a vase on the wall. “Uh, flower arrangements.”

“What?”

Good question.

What the fuck, von Bismarck?

I could’ve chosen any other topic in the world – food, climate, politics, best vacation destinations, worst pizza topping (that would be a short argument, though. The answer was pineapples, and everyone knew that). They couldn’t have a painting about gender equality on the wall?

“We’re getting married?” Briar’s eyes lit up, and for the first time since we reunited, her lips bloomed into a smile. “Oh my god, Ollie!”

Before I knew what was happening, she clasped my cheeks in her tiny palms, pulling me in for a kiss. I was a bastard, but apparently, I had a moral or two left in me, because I gently seized her wrists, tilted my chin up, and kissed her gauzed-up forehead.

“We have to go with roses, Ol. Roses in all colors. Red. White. Pink. Coral. I love coral roses.”

“You will have all the roses you want, sweetheart.” I blamed my mouth, which wanted badly to appease her after years of letting her down. My mouth and every other part of my body except my brain. “All the flowers in the Americas and Europe combined. The whole world will be short of roses when I’m done decorating our wedding. Divorce rates will go through the roof. Valentine’s Day will be canceled.”

“That’s … um, psychotically romantic. Thank you.” Briar pawed my palm and brought my knuckles to her lips. “The nurse told me you jumped into the pond to save me.”

I gave her a grave nod.

A better man would feel guilty for what was happening right now. I did not deserve this woman’s adoration, let alone her smiles. But it felt good. Being the hero in Briar’s life again. Even if just for a few minutes.

You are going to Hell, Oliver. No. You’re going somewhere worse. A new type of purgatory created to house you and your sins.

Briar leaned forward, giving me a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for always saving me.”

I patted her thigh awkwardly in response. My dick, which did not get the memo this was a crisis of gigantic proportions, immediately got hard. Time for a subject change.

“So …” I cleared my throat. “Tell me what you remember.”

She sat up straight, getting serious. “I remember pretty much everything up to when I was fourteen or fifteen. I remember our summer vacations on the lake. I remember my hobbies.” Her eyes twinkled. “I remember that day you found me staring at clouds on the lake, and we made out for hours until our lips bled.”

“Ah. My first taste of bloodplay.”

“Is that a kink you like?”

“Not particularly.”

Today, that is.

Over the years, I’d tried every kink in the book to get my better half going. It took ten years to finally admit that my only kink, my only type, was Briar Rose Auer.

“Hmm …” She tilted her head, brushing her thumb over my knuckle without really thinking about it. “I also remember fractures of what I’m pretty sure is my present.”

“Like what?”

“I remember I’m no longer in contact with my parents.” She hung her huge eyes on my face. “Is that true?”

I nodded. This tracked with the fact that the hospital couldn’t contact them. And the fact that she’d lumped me in with her parents and biological dad during our fight earlier. Oliver = Bad. Therefore, all three of her parents must’ve been, too.

Briar pinched her bottom lip, contemplating this. “I remember I changed my name to Briar from Briar Rose, but I don’t remember why. I know that I live in the US. I know that I work and that I love my work. What do I do?”

“You’re an intimacy coordinator.”

She blinked. “Is that, like, a real job?”

“You make sure actors feel comfortable during sex scenes. You’re very good at it. You make people feel comfortable in their own skin.”

“That’s nice.” She nodded, pausing to let that sink in. “What do you do?”

“I make people feel comfortable in other people’s skin,” I deadpanned. “Actually, I’m on the run for a few murder charges …”

She laughed, the pink returning to her cheeks. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so … warm. Her laughter. Her happiness. Her existence next to mine. They all defied the promise I’d made fifteen years ago.

Briar grinned. “Guess an intimacy coordinator makes sense. Must be all the practice I get with you, huh?”

My dick high-fived my zipper with unmatched enthusiasm. Couldn’t blame him. He had a head but no eyes. How else would he be able to read the situation?

“Practice makes perfect.” I cleared my throat, thinking about Doctor Cohen all but clutching my balls in his fist to ensure I didn’t burst her bubble. “And you and me are perfectionists, Cuddlebug.”

“When are we going home?”

“They’d like to have you here for observation for forty-eight hours.”

She mustered a shy smile. “Is it weird that I miss our house, and I don’t even remember one thing about it?”

One thing was certain – Briar didn’t remember my royal fuck up.

I brushed my thumb over her cheek, using every ounce of self-control in my body not to lean in and kiss her. It would be wrong. Immoral. Normally, I didn’t bother with these pesky things called morals. Values accumulated by experience, not reason, and my experience with life had been shitty.

But I wanted to do right by Briar.

I’d wronged her enough times already.

“It’s not weird at all.” I squeezed her hand back, knowing I’d started to dig an even deeper hole before a girl who’d only ever wanted a home. “Our house is awesome.”

“Do we have any pets?”

“Two dogs. Trio and Geezer.”

She scrunched her nose. “Were you responsible for the names?”

“They came named.”

“What breed?”

“Literally all of them.” I shrugged. “Both are rescues too antisocial and ratty to get adopted, so we had to take them. Trio has three legs and no respect for personal space. Geezer is seventeen, but still hanging in there. He’s a smaller breed, maybe thirty pounds, so we’re hoping for another couple good years with him.”

“Of course we rescued.” She bit her lower lip, suppressing a grin. “Are we good people, Ollie?”

“You’re amazing. I’m a menace to society, but we even each other out.”

She laughed. “I bet they are hideous and adorable.”

“Ugly as sin,” I confirmed, fishing my phone out of my pocket. “Let me show you.”

“Good idea. It might jog my memory.”

I knew it wouldn’t, since she’d never met them, but I still showed her the dogs, watching her coo and laugh and cry at their videos doing dumb dog shit.

How could I bring her into my house? I had someone else there. Someone who didn’t like sharing. Someone who had not had company in fifteen years.

If I had my head screwed on straight, I’d put a stop to it. Instead, I had every intention of taking her to a house she’d never been in, with none of her things there and no proof to show her of our engagement. No photos, no vacations, no memories, nothing.

Fifteen years ago, I’d scrubbed her clean from my life and started over.

Well, mostly.

And don’t get me started on our pending wedding.

I had a morbid aversion to monogamy. I wasn’t against marriage, per se. I could even see the merits of it, economically and socially. But I wasn’t dumb enough to marry someone I actually liked.

Every day, I witnessed Romeo and Zach, two of the most dominant men in the boardroom, being paraded around Potomac by their wives like well-bred poodles. No, thank you. I liked my balls where they were. Firmly attached to my cock.

Briar penetrated my thoughts. “By the way, where’s my engagement ring?”

“You lost it in the water hazard,” I provided, unblinking.

Her cheeks pinked. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was a simple $500k ring. I still have my mom’s one waiting for you in the safe.”

Someone needed to stop my mouth from talking.

“Oh, Ollie.” She squeezed my hand. “I am so glad we’re still together.”

I was going straight to hell.

And probably rooming with Columbus and King Léopold, too.