brother’s face sours, greed blazing with resentment. I stop inches from the girl, whose dress straps keep slipping from her shoulders. Her purse falls to the ground, and she bends over, attempting to pick it back up. I catch her skinny arm before she can trip, and stoop down to grab the black purse.
“Thanks.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Lucian gives me a thin-lipped smile. “Brother, this is Jessa. Jessa, Prince Liam. We were just heading to my room.”
“Ah’m please’d meet you. Prints—prince—”
“Liam,” he supplies helpfully.
“Liam.”
Disgust burns in the pit of my stomach. “She can barely get a sentence out.”
“She can sleep it off in my room.”
I’ve seen the trail of devastation he leaves, the women stumbling from his room, crying. Usually with a purse full of cash.
“So you got her pissed and decided to bring her home out of the kindness of your heart?”
Empty blue eyes stare back at me. “What the fuck do you care how I get my dick wet?”
A violent image of myself grabbing Lucian by his blond hair and crashing his face through the car window fills me with grim satisfaction. Something has always been deeply wrong with my brother, and nothing, not even a good beating would fix him. I might not be able to fix him, but I will stop him.
Jessa’s slurred laughter suddenly breaks the tension. “Dick!”
I turn my attention toward her. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“The valet will take you home. Greg!”
Lucian grabs me. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Taking her away from you.”
“Oh this is fucking rich. You get on cruise ships and fuck whores, but I’m not allowed to fuck one drunk bitch?”
“I prefer them awake enough to remember my name.”
“Fuck you, Liam.”
“You’re a prince. It shouldn’t be that hard to get a willing girl in your bed. Maybe you should ask yourself why women are so reluctant to touch you.” He bristles as Greg returns to my side, the Mercedes still running. “Where are you from, Jessa? Where’s your home?”
“Warwick.”
Lucian pouts like a dog who lost his bone as I help tuck Jessa in the backseat of the car. She falls across the seats, her eyes already rolled up in her head, and I shut the door.
The red tail lights from the car wash over Lucian, who looks at me, still wearing that menacing grin as if the dumbfuck knows something I don’t.
The car drives around the circle, the headlights illuminating the stone walls as they sweep around, and then it disappears through gate.
“I don’t know where the fuck you get off telling me who I can and can’t fuck.”
“I know about the girls. It ends now.”
I’m not satisfied until the smile turns bitter, and then a dart of panic hits me. He’ll become king if I screw up. If the world hates Anglefell now, they’ll hate us even more if my brother succeeds the throne.
I watch him disappear into the shadows, and I turn back toward the dungeons, where Daisy will be no doubt freezing from the lack of heating. A guard leans back against the door as he thumbs through his iPhone. He’s playing Candy Crush. I know because I recognize the music from the game. The screen lights up his bored face in flashes of pink and blue. I can’t blame the man. Why the fuck we need guards when we currently have one prisoner sitting in our dungeon is beyond me.
“I’m here to see the prisoner.”
The guard has a minor panic attack when he notices me standing there. “Of course, Your Highness. I apologize.”
I wave off his apology as he opens the door. Then I descend the steps. The dungeons are like a cold cellar. My fingers curl into my palms as I walk down the cellblock. The lights flicker on as I walk past, and then I stop in front of Daisy’s cell. She’s huddled in a corner, her arms underneath her t-shirt to hug her chest for warmth. They couldn’t have thrown her a fucking blanket? I peel the jacket from my shoulders as Daisy lifts her head from her arms.
“What’s h-happening?”
“I’m taking you out for a walk. Put this jacket on; you’re freezing.”
She stands and pushes her arms through her t-shirt, her teeth chattering madly. The cell door opens, and I offer the jacket to her.
“W-what about you?”
“I’m used to the cold. Put it on.”
Daisy slips into my jacket, sighing as she presses her cheek against the fur lining. I take her hand, which feels like a block of ice, and lead her out