Vicious Prince: An Arranged Marriage Romance (Royal Elite Book 5)

In the past, when I used to walk through RES’s halls and see couples whispering to each other or kissing in corners, I’d breeze straight past them.

I made a decision to be around Elsa as little as possible when she’s with Aiden. He cares about no one when he starts tonguing her as if they’re in private. I even avoided Kim when she started going out with Xander because they gave off this soulmates vibe that I’ve read about in books and makes me roll my eyes so hard.

There’s no such thing as soulmates. It’s all a chemical reaction, a rush of dopamine, a high, and like any high, it’ll eventually wither away.

When I told Elsa and Kim those exact words, they laughed at me. They thought I didn’t understand. Well, they’re the ones who don’t understand, and with time, I’ll be able to say ‘I told you so.’

The downfall of that plan, and of my thoughts in general, is a moment like this one.

Ronan has his arm around my waist as we walk down the hall, and no matter how much I elbow him, he won’t budge.

If anything, he glues himself more tightly to my side, as if we were born attached at the hip. Even Knox and I weren’t.

His closeness is a dent in my plan. The way I keep inhaling his spicy scent and basking in his warmth is dangerously close to that addiction state. You know, the one that comes after the high I already established is beneath me.

Not only that, but since he cornered me at my house, he’s been acting as if nothing happened.

He’s still smiling at girls — and boys — and everyone who crosses our path, teachers and school staff included.

Despite his Death nickname, he’s loved here. Scratch that — he’s not only loved, he’s also worshipped, and like any god, he has a religion and an altar for sacrifices. He has followers — other than the ones on Instagram and Snapchat — and fanatics.

Said fanatics, mainly the female population, keep shooting me glares the more Ronan pulls me to his side, parading me around for the world, or rather the school, to see.

I don’t like attention, and it’s not because I prefer staying under the radar like Elsa, but because attention is kind of stupid. What do you do with attention? You can’t even eat it.

Also, people who thrive on attention like the arsehole who’s digging his fingers into the flesh of my hipbone are shady as fuck. You never know what they’re actually hiding.

I thought he was a gigolo, fake, shallow, but I learnt the hard way that Ronan Astor is more than what meets the eye. He’s the disaster you never see coming. He’s a monster hidden under the popularity and the picturesque smile and family.

His damn family.

The fact that he’s unpredictable has put me on edge since that encounter in his room with his mum on the other side of the door.

I don’t like admitting this, but he rattles me. He’s putting dents upon dents in my plan, and I need to stay the fuck away from him to keep my sanity and protect my clear course of action.

But at the same time, when he slammed me against the wall earlier, warning me to stay away from Agnus, I couldn’t help provoking him.

I’m not the type who provokes people — if anything, I walk straight past any provocation — but with him, all my domino pieces are shuffled and knocked down.

There’s no order or strategy, there’s only…the unknown. It’s like being thrown into a dark maze covered in black smoke.

Truth is, I want to dip my fingers into the other Ronan, the one only I can see, the one who’s not running for a popularity vote.

Why would I want that? I don’t know.

He’s not helping either. He hasn’t uttered a word, not during the ride here and not now.

You’re fucked.

He said it. I heard him. Why isn’t he acting on it?

Do I have to wait long for his retaliation?

Do I have to see a doctor for being excited about his retaliation and how far he’ll take it this time?

“Wannabe bitch,” whispers Claire, the girl from the other day, as she passes me by.

While I usually don’t give them the time of day, I’m on the edge of myself, and I don’t allow bitches to walk all over me.

So what if I started this for a plan? Everyone needs to know their damn place.

“Hey you.” I stop, forcing Ronan to halt too.

The girl and her friend glare back at me then bat their lashes at Ronan.

“If you have something to say, why don’t you speak out loud for everyone to hear?” My voice is calm, neutral even.

I realise a small crowd has started to gather, but I couldn’t care less. This isn’t about them; it’s about me.

My self-worth. My dignity.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Claire feigns innocence, still giving Ronan that ‘fuck me’ look.

“Aside from the fact that you stole Ronan from her.” The friend, a tall blonde girl, places a hand on her hip.

“Ladies.” Ronan grins, his tone is that loathsome happy-go-lucky one. “Don’t fight. Everyone gets a share.”

Everyone gets a share?

Everyone gets a fucking share?

I’m surprised my face doesn’t combust from the amount of blood rushing to it.

But then again, why should I care? He can give all the shares he wants as long as I get to my end goal.

He doesn’t matter.

“She doesn’t seem to think that way, Ron.” Claire pouts like a fucking kid with issues.

Ron.

Of course they call the man-whore that.

Before he gets a chance to speak, I slide myself out of his hold and stride towards Claire until I’m nose to nose with her. “Do you know why?”

To her credit, she keeps her posture straight, pretending I don’t scare her. After all, the female population in this school agree with her, not me.

“I happen to be his fiancée. Ever heard that term?” I stare down my nose at her. “Google it, and then we can maybe talk about it.”

Claire’s face creases with a scowl, but her friend points a finger at me. “You’re only his fiancée because he’s forced to. Arranged marriage. Google it.”

“I did, and that’s how I managed to officially own him while all of you beg for scraps.” I stare at her then at every girl watching me with either mouths agape or malice in their eyes — or both. “If any of you threaten me, you won’t like how I’ll react. This is my first and final warning.”

And then, I grab Ronan and drag him away from the scene. I expect to find him grinning at the others, offering them his apologetic smiles or whatever he does to seem like an innocent gigolo, but his gaze is entirely on me.

Just me.

Those rich brown eyes with a slightly colourful hue, those brows arching a little. For the first time ever, he’s not smiling or smirking or grinning on the school grounds. If anything, he appears…a bit pissed off?

I have no time to focus on that as I push him down the hall. Once we’re near class, I let him go.

The other girls are watching from afar. Half must be spooked since they think I offer sacrifices to Satan — good. At least that will keep them off my case. The other half seem to hate me even more and are plotting my demise.

Screw them all.

I didn’t come this far for those little bitches to ruin what I’ve worked for.

Do you honestly think that’s the only reason behind your public display of ownership?

I ignore the voice in my head, not wanting to dig into these emotions going through me all at once. It’s hard to comprehend one emotion at a time, let alone all of them.

“What was that all about?” Ronan grabs me by the arm, forbidding my entrance into the class.

“Nothing.” I try to step inside again.

This time, he pulls me behind him and slams my back against the wall of a dark corner near the teacher’s room.

Damn it. What’s with him and pinning me to walls?

And why is my spine tingling with anticipation?

When I meet his gaze, it’s a bit blank, a bit unreadable, a bit shadowed. “I said. What the fuck was that all about?”

Is it so wrong that my entire body comes to life whenever he looks at me that way? Whenever he sheds his mask and shows me his true, raw self?

Only to me. Not anyone else but me.

Still, I use my stern tone. “Don’t you dare disrespect me in front of others, Ronan. I don’t react well to it.”

“Obviously.” His fingers dig into my arm, and although his skin is separated from mine by my jacket and shirt, it’s almost as if he’s gripping my bare flesh and engraving himself into it.

“Let me go,” I hiss, watching our surroundings. Teachers wouldn’t react well to this scene.

“Not before we clear things up.”

“What things?”

“Like your stupid belief that you own me.” His voice is cold, cruel even. “You don’t own me, belle. It’s the other way around.”

I lift my chin. “Is that what you think?”

“That’s what it is, and if you challenge me again, I’ll prove it.”

“Prove it how?”

“Considering your show just now…” He trails off. “You don’t want to know that.”

“Ronan,” I warn.

“Teal.” He grins.

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll be doing more than fucking you if you don’t heed my warning.”

“What are you talking about?”

He places his arm against the wall by my head and leans down so his face is a mere breath away from mine. My breasts heave an inch away from his jacket.

“Stay away from Agnus, and this is, as you said earlier, your first and final warning.”

The sense of provocation hits me again. I want him to kiss me, to bite my lip and draw blood. I want him to devour me like this is the last day on earth and I’m the only one he wants to spend it with.

But most of all, I want him to breathe life into me.

“And if I don’t?” I murmur.

“I’ll be doing a lot of fucking, and not with you.” His face and voice are neutral. “You’re welcome to the front-row seat since you’re into voyeurism. I’ll put on a show for you as I fuck Claire and her friend while you watch and know it won’t be you.”

Something red and hot bursts inside me. It could be my own blood or my veins or rage; I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t shut up. I have to give back what he served.

“After that, you can watch my show.” I run my fingers over his tie. “I have a dial list, you know. All the men who fucked me will be open for a redo, and guess what, Ronan? They’re my type — older, experienced, and aware of how to make a woman feel good.”

Thick silence lingers between us for a second too long.

I expected Ronan to act on that since he did before. I expected him to tell me fuck no, or kiss me, or anything.

Instead…he’s smiling.

Why the hell is he smiling?

“You do that, belle.”

What?

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go schedule my threesome.” He pushes off me.

The emptiness of the air on my skin is like being abandoned, being thrown away.

It’s one of my most hated feelings in the world.

“I’m not kidding.” I speak to his back. “I will do it.”

He glances at me over his shoulder. “I’ll do it too.”

And then he’s walking again. Damn it. Damn it.

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. Why the hell isn’t he stopping me? He should, and I would stop him in return.

Unless the arsehole actually wants to do this?

He can’t…be serious.

“Ronan.” I grind out his name, expecting him to ignore me, but he turns around and faces me.

There’s still that loathsome smile on his face, the one I want to burn to ashes. “What is it, belle?”

“Is this another game?”

“I don’t know. You tell me, because I don’t play fair.”

“Just because you have a dick doesn’t mean you’re the only one who gets to do things.”

“Just because you have a pussy doesn’t mean you’re the only one who gets to do things,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

It’s a challenge. He’s challenging me.

“What do you want?” I snap. “Tell me.”

“I want you to tell me.”

“How the hell would I know what you want?”

“Figure it out. You started this.”

“I started this?” I repeat, incredulous.

“You did. Now, as you fix it, I’ll go get my dose.”

This time, I don’t stop him as he disappears into the class, even though something in my chest shrivels and dies.

Fuck him.

He’s not the only one who doesn’t play fair.