Chapter 52: My Dark Prince: Chapter 51

Cannonball off the cliff. Alcohol poisoning. Hanging myself with the server’s waist-length beard, which I swore had found its way into my wine.

I didn’t know how I’d kill myself tonight.

I just knew I would.

Currently, I contemplated grabbing my steak knife and skewering my heart with it. Though I was open to other methods, including (but not limited to) filling my pockets with rocks and hurling myself into the lake (thank you, Virginia Woolf) and good ole hopping into the Lambo and slamming the accelerator the entire journey into the nearest oak tree.

Saying dinner was a terrible ordeal would be like calling a tsunami wet.

Dinner wasn’t terrible.

It was violent carnage of Jack-the-Ripper proportions. The total annihilation of the measly scraps of my soul.

Ironically, the whimsical setup reminded me of a fairytale. A long rustic dining table stretched the perimeter of the dock, flanked by wooden benches. On the simple linen tablecloth, faux antler candelabras and blue roses checkered the center strip.

The candles glowed orange, haloing our faces. Gentle waves lapped against the shore, tangling with the sand before retreating. We stuffed our faces with carved pomegranates, imported champagne, and fresh rustic bread.

It was all perfect. Utterly perfect.

Other than the company.

“Thornless roses.” Briar picked up one of the roses, plucked fresh from our garden, and examined the velvety petals between her delicate fingers. A bitter smile swept across her cheeks. “Plucking thorns from a rose is like declawing a cat. It leaves them helpless to protect themselves. Is this the kind of man you are, Ollie?”

All eyes at the table swung to me.

“No.” I wrangled in the spike of frustration, trying to sound blasé. “I was just worried about Dallas getting injured. She’s, uh, unique.”

Romeo set down his steak knife, patted the corners of his mouth like a seasoned aristocrat, and proceeded to snarl at me, “You’re about to undergo some very fucking unique surgeries to reattach your bones if you don’t apologize to my wife right now.”

His wife, however, did not take offense.

“Briar, I love your dress.” Dallas slapped her ample cleavage, clad in an embroidered Valentino dress that cost more than a New York apartment. “Where is it from?”

“Let me check.” Briar reached back and snapped the tag from the neck of her brown polka dot dress, squinting at it. The sound of fabric ripping tore through the air. “Looks like this is Target’s finest.” She turned to give me a wide-eyed stare. “Really, Ollie? You couldn’t invest in decent clothes for me? Are you that cheap?”

Romeo choked into his whiskey sour. Zach snorted. Frankie’s eyes ping-ponged between me and my fake fiancée.

I drew in a deep, calming breath. “It’s all you, my little environmental warrior. You don’t believe in designer clothes.”

“It’s clothes, not astrology. It’s not a matter of belief.” Briar rolled her eyes, knocking back my entire flute of champagne. “This is fast fashion. Luxury fashion isn’t antithetical to sustainability. Stella McCartney, Burberry, Chloé. Plenty of designers have sustainable collections. Just admit that you’re stingy.”

That summed up the gist of our dinner. All forty-seven minutes of it. Someone would ask Briar something or compliment her, and she’d find a way to use the new topic to rip me a new one.

I was currently the not-so-proud owner of about fifteen new holes, and the caterers hadn’t even served the main course.

“I’ll take you shopping tomorrow,” I mumbled into my Negroni. I needed something stronger. Cyanide, for instance.

The only reason I hadn’t drowned Briar in luxurious frocks was because Doctor Cohen had highlighted the importance of keeping her old things available to her – including her wardrobe. It could be detrimental for her to encounter an entire closet full of things she never chose.

My heavy gaze crept up to Sebastian’s window. The blackout curtains covered the full length. If I hadn’t clung onto every inch of the fabric, I would’ve missed it. The slightest ruffle. Seb was there. Pressed against the window. Hidden behind the curtain.

He wants to be down here.

He wants to live again.

But he wouldn’t, so I downed the rest of the cocktail, wishing I had, indeed, opted for cyanide.

Since I refused to acknowledge the millionth fight she’d tried to pick, Briar ignored my words, finding me of no interest to her.

“So, Romeo. Is your job as an arms dealer full-time?” She turned to him. “I don’t know what that’s like, since my husband-to-be doesn’t work.”

He pressed his lips together, stifling a laugh. “Correct.”

“You know, just yesterday, I walked the property and found it to be a little dull. I wondered if you could do me a favor.”

“He can.” Dallas nodded on behalf of her husband, without even hearing what the favor entailed. “Whatever you want, dude. We’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” Briar grinned into her vegetarian soup joumou, watching everyone’s face for signs of horror. “I hate to be a bother, but I just didn’t know where else to get a flamethrower.”

Farrow choked on a piece of bread. Zach dropped his spoon inside his poulet aux noix and patted her back.

“How fun.” Dallas lit up, saluting Briar with her drink. “What for?”

“I’m in my goth girl era.” Briar pointed to the cliff across the lake. “The bushes over there are just so green. They’re really ruining the vibe.”

Romeo curved an eyebrow, interrupting the stunned silence first. “So, you want to … burn it?”

“What?” Briar looked around, feigning surprise. “Do you know of another way to turn it black fast? Plus, destroying shit is super therapeutic. Ask Oliver. He does this to his own life every few years.”

A wave of laughter washed across the table. My jaw ticked. It didn’t take a crystal ball to know where the night would go. I could leave and put an end to my misery, but I stayed, because of that slightest ruffle of the curtain. The tiny possibility that Sebastian could be watching us from above, soaking in our laughter by osmosis.

“Oh.” Dallas slapped her forehead. “I forgot the griot Hettie prepared.” She pushed her chair back, hopping to her feet. “If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen, roasting a pig like Briar did just now.”

“In fact, I’d love a tour of your workplace.” Briar still had her focus on Rom. “I heard Dallas got to drive a tank into a pothole.”

Zach snorted into his crisp tostones. “No, she made a tank fall into a pothole. There’s a difference.”

“Anyway. I’d love to get a tour of the place. I remembered that I’m a huge firearms fan.” Briar patted her hip as if she had something hidden there. “Got my own collection to show for it.”

Romeo reached for his glass, widening the collar of his shirt with a finger. “You own guns?”

“Plenty. I started out small, with about four 500 S&W Magnums, but then I got a little bored with them, so I managed to get my hands on a few historic military weapons and even a fully automatic machine gun.”

Bullshit. My people searched her entire shitty LA apartment up and down. She did not possess a single gun. Certainly not a machine gun. I didn’t call her out on it, of course.

I knew what I owed her.

Zach narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you planning to do with a fully automatic machine gun?”

“I could think of one thing.” Dallas, who’d just returned, glanced between me and Briar, clearly entertained. “Three, if you count his nuts.”

“I’d love to see your gun collection, Briar.” Romeo indulged her, knowing full-well my arteries were seconds from bursting all over the table. “It would be my honor.”

“Speaking of honor …” Briar turned to Zach. “I just remembered something the other day. I once had the honor of making you a boatload of money.”

He offered her a condescending smile. “Oh?”

“I trended number one on your porn site a few years back. Ad revenue, baby.”

“A sex tape?” Frankie spritzed wine all over the table. “Even I didn’t do that. Dude.” She leaned across the table for a high five, her palm connecting with Briar’s. “You would’ve been the coolest boss ever.”

“In fact …” Briar puffed out her chest. “I think I’m still first in the search results under a certain kink.”

I pasted a fake smile on my face, pretending to be interested in my oxtail. Odds were, Briar had found out everything and decided to dish out my payback one excruciating moment at a time.

She wants you to lose your mind and whatever’s left of your patience, I reminded myself. She probably regained her full memory and knows you won’t confront her about it.

After all, I had to play into her hands, on the off chance she was manic and not a liar.

Great. Fucking fantastic. My life just keeps getting better and better these days.

“You impress me.” Farrow patted Zach’s shoulder, her brows knitted together with mock sympathy.

“How so?”

“For owning a sex site when you, yourself, were a virgin for so many years until you met Farrow. It must’ve been hard.” My fake fiancée pressed her fingers to her lips, widening her eyes. “No puns intended, of course.”

At this point, I twisted and squirmed in my seat like my ass was on fire. Briar was goading me. She wanted to push the boundaries. To see how far she could take this before I confronted her, so I could make an even bigger ass of myself.

Every single piece of my being wanted to fool her right back. She wanted a Frozen-themed wedding in the middle of nowhere? Let’s fucking get it. I wouldn’t be the first one to blink in this stupid game of chicken. I invented petty.

Zach cut into his pork, the picture of boredom. “How do you know I was a virgin?”

“Farrow told me on the plane to Texas.” She jerked her finger in Fae’s direction. “Oops, sorry. Was that a secret?”

We all knew neither of them cared. In fact, the only person at this table who still had any real secrets left was me. These days, my friends lived their lives without shame.

Which was probably why, of all the dirty secrets on Dark Prince Road, Briar had chosen these topics to probe. The safe ones. She wanted to push the boundaries, but she’d never step on anyone’s toes but mine.

My hand curled into a tight fist around my spoon.

Romeo redirected the conversation back. “What kink?”

Servers steered toward us in a flock of white uniforms, clearing the bowls from the table and serving us dous makos and kokiyòl for dessert.

“Chick pass.” Briar bit into a donut, raising a brow. “Familiar with it?”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Whether to strangle or kiss this impossible woman. I just knew with certainty that she’d spent the last twenty-four hours pulling my leg – and that she had an excellent sense of humor and wit to match.

I swirled my drink in my hand, finally chiming in. “Funny you seem to remember so many things about your past these days, Cuddlebug.”

“Isn’t it great?” Briar grinned back at me. “I also remembered we bought you that pump to enlarge your you-know-what. Did it arrive yet?”

Dallas slapped a hand to her chest and closed her eyes. “Can we all just take a moment to appreciate how Briar out-Oliver’d Oliver?”

Zach turned to Briar. “What’s your sex tape called?”

She opened her mouth to answer, and even though I was ninety-nine percent sure the sex tape in question didn’t exist, I bit out, “I am going to punch your face into another planet if you ask her one more question about it, Sun.”

“Come on, Ollie. I’m proud of my past.” Briar grabbed my knee under the table and massaged it, creeping her fingers up my inner thigh, damn near fleecing a groan from the back of my throat. She played dirty. “I mean, aren’t you proud of your past?”

Okay. Now I knew she remembered everything. Every shameful detail that brought us here.

“You’re right.” I focused on not coming in my pants like someone half my age. “Please, continue.”

And while you’re at it, when did you regain your memory? How long have you been pulling this charade?

My head was a mess. My dick, however, was very clear about its feelings. It wanted to burst through my zipper and into the milky way.

“So.” Briar turned to Zach. “Remember ‘Two Girls, One Cup’?”

“Do I ever.” Zach flashed me the quick, satisfied smirk of someone who knew my agony was akin to that of Jesus Christ on his last breath. “It’s a milestone in the cultural sphere of pornography.”

“Me and my ex-boyfriend recreated it with a sundae and some nuts. You decide which pair I’m referring to.”

Everybody at the table laughed. I wanted to skip to the part of my mercy killing.

“Seriously.” Briar set down her fork and pushed her plate in. “It’s why I decided to become an intimacy coordinator. It’s my mission in life to bring as many naked bodies and sexy times to the screen as possible.”

Zach saluted to her. “We thank you for your service.”

“She’s lovely.” Frankie fanned herself with her hand. “Seriously, I’m obsessed.”

“So am I,” I concurred.

Dallas stole Romeo’s dessert. “Is your co-star that ex you talked about in Texas? Grant?”

“That’s the one.”

“The seal-saving environmentalist,” I muttered into my drink.

Dallas pointed to Farrow. “Fae and I totally Googled him.”

“What did you think?” Briar wiggled her brows. “Hot, right?”

“Totally. If things fall through with Ollie, he’s cute.”

Fuck it.

I slammed my glass down a little too hard, sloshing gin over the rim. “What specifically?”

Briar’s answer came instantly. “His brows.”

“His brows,” I deadpanned.

She tapped her chin. “And his teeth.”

“His teeth?”

“And he likes reading smut.”

“Ohhh …” That got Dallas’ attention. She rocketed forward, forgetting the Haitian donuts. “Seriously? That is hot.”

Romeo narrowed his eyes, steering the conversation away. “Tell me, Briar. Do you remember anything from Texas?”

“About the trip?” Briar nodded. “I remember everything the girls told me. Like how Farrow cheated her way into the Olympics but ended up not competing.”

Farrow shrugged, unbothered. This didn’t even chart top ten on the list of things she wanted to hide. We all knew Fae had become something of a living legend with the Olympic incident, and Dallas thought the world would function more peacefully if no one held a job.

Lovely.

Briar had kid gloves on when it came to the girls, but she’d brought out the claws for me.

“And I remember how Dallas has never held onto a job …” She turned to Dal with a serene smile. “… and that she was essentially sold into marriage by a father who never supported her. Luckily, she fell in love with her kidnapper, who thankfully has the means to fund her shopping addiction.”

Damn, she arrived to this dinner with receipts. I could only imagine what she’d say about me when my turn inevitably came.

Dallas shrugged, stealing scraps off her sister’s plate. “I married a billionaire. I’m not about to set up a lemonade stand out front. It is what it is.”

“Okay, this is low key fun.” Frankie squealed. “I know I didn’t go on that trip, but can you roast me, too?” She raised her hand in the air and waved, like a student eager to answer a question in class. “Me, too. Me, too.”

I couldn’t bite back my groan. This was bad … and it was about to get worse.

Briar slowly tilted her head in Frankie’s direction, a serene smile plastered on her face. “I saved the best for last, Frankie.”

My stomach bottomed out. For the first time tonight, Briar’s face hardened for someone that wasn’t me.

Briar held Frankie’s stare. “Today, as I tidied up my fiancé’s affairs in his office, I came across his bank statements.”

She went into my office? When? How? I rarely let her out of my sight.

“It’s the strangest thing.” Briar tsked, shaking her head. “He had many, many charges to his credit card that traced back to designer stores, all of them in Georgia. I thought to myself – who could Oliver know that lives in Georgia? Someone he’d be close enough to give his credit card to. Someone reckless enough to rack up forty-grand bills on dresses and shoes.” She perched her chin on her fist. “Whose name do you think I came up with?”

“I … um, Posh Spice?” Frankie smiled hopefully. “She loves a good designer bag.”

Eyes closed, I buried my face in my hands. The irony of it all was that I’d never touched Frankie, nor did I have any desire to.

“You, Frankie,” Briar said matter-of-factly. “You’re having an affair with an engaged man who is twice your age. I hope you are happy with yourself.”

Briar stood, seized her napkin from her lap, and tossed it on the table.

“I’m really not.” Frankie shot up. Tears rimmed her eyes. She bolted after Briar, who stomped her way back to the house. “I swear, I didn’t touch him. Ever. And not for my lack of trying.” She paused to throw her sister an apologetic glance. “Sorry, Dal.”

Dallas sighed. “It’s okay. Vitamin D deficiency runs in the family.”

Frankie kept chasing after Briar across the grass. “He wouldn’t have me.”

Despite my desire to crawl up the mouth of one of Romeo’s many flamethrowers, something compelled me to go after them. Perhaps the knowledge that Briar didn’t want to kill Frankie. She wanted my head on a plate. So much for vegetarianism.

“He wouldn’t have me, and I know why. It’s because he is obsessed with you.” Frankie hiked up her dress to run faster. “He’s always been obsessed with you. I realized it when I saw the two of you at the hotel for the first time. You’re it. Everyone else was just a distraction.”

Briar grabbed the handle to the backyard door and jerked it open. “He’s a manwhore.”

“He’s a saint,” Frankie countered, following her into the home.

“He’s damaged.”

“So are you.” It came out as a rare whisper. Perhaps the only moment of awareness I’d ever witnessed from Frankie. “And me. All of us. Perfect is so boring. It’s predictable. Flaws keep things interesting.”

I slipped past Frankie and gripped Briar’s shoulder. “Frankie, go back outside.”

“I can’t do that when she’s mad at me.” Frankie tossed her arms in the air like a child. Tears landed on her cheeks. “She thinks we’re having an affair. I would never do that. I would never hook up with someone taken.”

I spared a glance at the stairwell. Briar had already vanished into the bedroom. I was eager to confront her. To find out what she knew. Electricity passed through every fissure in my body. For the first time in years, I felt alive. Brimming with something more than misery.

I guided Frankie toward the door to the backyard. “She doesn’t think we’re having an affair.”

“Of course, she does. She said so herself.”

“What I mean is, even if she does, she doesn’t care.” I shooed her with both hands. “Now, go. Please.”

“Not before—”

“Frankie. Get the fuck out before I call security and throw you out. Okay? I need to go speak to my fiancée.”

My fiancée.

What a joke.

The jig was up. Briar was on to me. I needed to face the music. And that music? It was no concerto. More like heavy metal.

And still, I went. Readily, even.

Because even her hate was better than her indifference.