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

We needed to cancel the fake wedding.

When was the only question. We didn’t have many options: now or later. It almost would be easier to call up the Maury show and let him announce the results for us, considering Ollie and I didn’t want to touch the conversation with a ten-foot, condom-sheathed pole.

Me, because I feared what it meant for us. Him, because I knew, deep down, he wanted to follow me to LA, but he could never abandon his family.

The halo-halo I’d gobbled up at Dallas’ sloshed in my belly as I crept past our gates, trudging the short distance from her home to mine. Mine. Shit, I had it bad. Nothing about this twenty-thousand-foot mansion screamed mine.

Except, the self-destruction voice in my head taunted, the outrageous, frustrating, hotter-than-sin man that owns it.

I loitered by the fountain, drawing out the minutes before I entered. Over the past fifteen years, I’d acquired a sixth sense for calamity. The morbid ability to recognize disasters before they happened. I could’ve used it before Oliver left me in Paris, or before I stumbled upon the Instagram exchange, or even before my parents ditched me.

So, tonight, I did my best to heed its warning, hovering outside until my feet ached and my eyes almost gave out on me, closing without permission. Finally, I inched the front door open, noting the drawn curtains and pitch black.

Utter silence stretched across the cavernous space. The playful vibe that normally clung to the air had disappeared.

I set my purse on the first step of the stairs and turned on my phone flashlight. “Hello?”

No answer.

“Oliver?”

I weaved past the couch and into the kitchen. Empty. Then, I tip-toed upstairs, unsure why I feared breaking the silence. When I got to the top step, I hesitated, glancing at the entrance to the south wing. Dark and empty, as always.

With a quick shake of my head, I forced out that weird inkling churning in my gut. Of an impending catastrophe.

“You’re being ridiculous, Briar.”

With that, I pulled my shoulders back and stormed to the master bedroom, bumping into my first evidence of doom. The shut double doors. Ollie always kept them open. An invitation for me to walk in whenever I pleased.

I hesitated, my fingers latched onto the knob. The erratic thump-thump of my heartbeat ricocheted between my ears.

This is silly. You sleep here. Open the door.

I knocked first. No answer. I pressed my forehead to the wood, closing my eyes.

“Ollie?”

Nothing.

A memory slammed into me. Of Oliver, keeping me out of the gates of this very house, watching me in the pouring rain as I begged for him to let me in.

I couldn’t help it.

I reeled back, rattled and shaking.

Unable to escape our ugly past as it held me hostage.