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

That hadn’t gone as planned.

The plan: to pressure everyone into fessing up to their lies, then storm out of there like a badass, my chin up, as if I didn’t give a damn about Oliver’s ruse.

I did not plan for my fiancé’s “mistress” to chase after me in tears.

I did not plan for my so-called besties to enjoy being roasted.

I did not plan for Oliver’s best friends to indulge my outlandish claims.

Obviously – and I would take this to my grave – these people didn’t totally suck. The opposite, actually.

They’d agreed to go along with Ollie’s absurd plan, not because making a fool out of me entertained them but because they were decent people and didn’t want to risk setting back my recovery. Plus, Dallas and Fae didn’t have to take me to Texas to jog my memory. They chose to.

Either way, I’d find some time to apologize.

It wasn’t them who had abandoned me after claiming my virginity, forced me to walk naked down the streets of Paris, and ghosted me weeks later, only to reveal months of open social media flirting with some hot Instagram model with boobs ten times the size of mine.

You don’t care, you don’t care, you don’t care.

You got over Oliver ages ago.

It’s time to leave and never see him again.

I wheeled both my suitcases toward the double doors of the master bedroom, ignoring Oliver when he appeared at the frame. He’d stayed behind with Frankie for a few moments, and I wondered what they’d talked about.

None of your business, Briar.

Right. They could fuck each other until they both got third-degree carpet burns for all I cared. 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. I’d never seen him like this. So … animated.

“Please, let me through.” I looped my backpack through my arm, securing it on my back. “Thanks for the room and board, but I’d like to go home now.”

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

I offered him an impatient smile. “Especially the part where I detest you.”

“When did you remember?”

“None of your business.”

“What you did out there was uncalled for.” He pointed behind his back to the dinner party.

“Are we really going to talk about uncalled-for behavior?” I cocked my head sideways, arms folded across my chest. “Because you might have to sit down and secure an hour or seven.”

He squinted at me, shook his head, then raised his palms in surrender. “Look, I know you must be mad—”

“I’m not mad. I’m relieved. I remember exactly where we stand, and now I can move on with my life, assured by the fact that I will never see your face again.”

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

“Remind me what you did for me?” I’d let my jaw hit the floor, but it was probably dirty with human fluids I dared not think about. “Screwed me, left me stranded in a foreign country, dumped me, or ch—”

“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.”

“Right.” I snapped my fingers. “I forgot I owe you my life for not leaving me for dead after you drove me headfirst into a water hazard. Thank you …” I pressed my palms together. “… for your charity, your generosity, and above all, your humanity, which knows no bounds. The answer to your question – whether you can have closure or not – is no, by the way. If I didn’t get mine fifteen years ago, I figure you need to wait at least fifteen more before we even the score. Now, can I please go?”

“You can.” He stepped sideways, no longer blocking my path to the door. It surprised me a little. Oliver wasn’t the type to go down without a fight. “Best of luck.”

I grabbed both my suitcases, one in each hand, and wheeled them to the lip of the curved stairway. A shit ton of stairs stood between me and the landing. At least two dozen. I’d underestimated my strength.

I wasn’t really in the mood to carry both suitcases by the handles, so I nudged them down the stairs with my toes, watching them topple to the first floor from my spot at the top. They bounced from step to step, hopefully denting his precious marble along the way. His floor could take a few hits. He deserved it.

Fine. I’d meant what I’d said. Fifteen years had passed, and I never got closure. After so much time, it shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. He’d become a completely different person to the kid I’d fallen in love with, but I was still me. The girl who’d gotten rejected by everyone she’d ever loved – her mother, her father, her biological dad, and her first love.

This wall I’d erected – prickly, angry, and hard – was the only thing I had to protect me.

When I reached the landing, I took out my phone from my denim jacket and checked it. Seb had left me a bunch of texts. We hung out together whenever Oliver gave me space, and he’d started to get used to me popping in a few times a day. He even stopped hiding his face in the shadows.

Guilt tore its way up my spine. Leaving would derail any progress he’d made. I knew it.

“By the way,” Oliver drawled from the second-floor railing, elbows resting on the smooth mahogany. “Where, exactly, do you plan on going?”

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

“Home.” I shot Oliver a murderous glare. “To LA.”

“Oh.” He winced, ramping up the theatrics. “About that.”

I glowered at him. “What?”

“I broke your lease and sold your car,” he announced with a shrug.

I turned fully to him now. “You what?”

“Had no choice. I thought you would stay here for months. That’s what Doctor Cohen said. I deposited the money from your car into your savings account. You should really change your passwords, by the way. It’s still what it was fifteen years ago.”

I kicked my luggage, parking my hands on my waist. “You had no right to do that.”

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

“I’m not that old.”

“You’re vintage.”

“Screw you.”

“What? I like vintage.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line. I didn’t want to stand here and bicker with him. I had bigger fish to dry. “Goodbye, Oliver.”

“Goodbye, Briar,” he returned, his tone light and playful.

I ordered an Uber to the gate of his mansion and left through the main entrance, knowing his guests remained all the way on the other side of the property. 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.

I wondered why that bothered 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.