The Billionaire's Princess - Ava Ryan Page 0,33

makes dread trickle down my spine.

My father claps his hands in a valiant effort to act normal.

“What can we get you to drink, Percy? We started without you, but I think we can—”

“Forgive me, but I thought I detected a certain chemistry in the air just now.” Percy splits his attention between me and Damon. I hate seeing that wounded look in his eyes beneath his anger. Percy doesn’t deserve to be hurt. But knowing that and saving him from it are two different things. “Anything I need to know?”

10

Carly

The one thing that could make the upcoming conversation with Percy any worse would be to humiliate him by having it in front of this audience. So I babble the first thing that comes to mind.

“Percy. If you have a question for me, then we should discuss it privately—”

“Yeah,” Damon quietly tells Percy. “I have something you should know.”

“Pardon me?” I say with utter disbelief, trying to catch Damon’s eye to shoot him a warning look.

But he focuses on Percy and ignores me. “We’re adults,” Damon continues. “You seem like a decent guy who deserves my honesty.”

A sharp nod from Percy.

I, meanwhile, succumb to rising horror at the thought of everything Damon might be about to reveal. “Damon…”

I am universally ignored once again.

“I want Carly,” Damon says lightly, as though he’s not lobbing a bomb into the middle of my hope to one day be friends with Percy. “She knows that. The ball’s in her court.”

I freeze, aghast. Maybe this is how Americans do things, but I’m positive Dad’s sleepy blue salon hasn’t seen a scene like this in generations, if ever.

Vivid color floods Percy’s face. His lips thin out. “Got it. Thanks.”

Damon turns to my father and extends his hand. “I’m going to skip dinner, sir. For obvious reasons. Maybe someone could send something to the cottage for me? We’ll be in touch about the art. And I’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning. Thanks for the hospitality.”

“Of course, Damon.” My father works that handshake for all he’s worth, going so far as to clap a hand on Damon’s shoulder as if he’s sending him off to the Crusades. “We’ll be in touch.”

For me? Damon spares a penetrating glance—nothing apologetic there, boy—as he strides off and takes all the air in the room with him, leaving me to my mess.

“Daddy,” I bark, wishing I could grab the sword from the suit of armor in the corner and skewer him with it, “can Percy and I have the room, please? Thanks.”

“Don’t do anything hasty, Charlotte,” he says, leaning in for a conciliatory kiss.

I lean out, turning my head. I’ll deal with him in a minute. “Thanks.”

My father squeezes Percy’s shoulder on the way out, probably because he wants to treat both billionaires fairly, since they have even odds with me as far as he knows. But Percy looks stunned and seems not to notice.

Until my father quietly shuts the door on his way out and Percy stares me in the eye.

His expression? Devastated.

“Percy,” I say helplessly, kicking myself for not just telling him about Damon to begin with and for continuing to communicate with Percy when he perceives my responses as mixed messages. What sort of genius gives a person false hope in the hopes of letting them down easy? When in the history of life has that ever worked out well? When did I become such a deluded idiot? “Can we sit down and talk, please?”

Bitter bark of laughter from Percy as he sits on the sofa. “We’ve been together for eight years, Carly. We’ve grown up together. Marriage was always at the end of our road. What are you doing? You can’t just scuttle our entire relationship over a flirtation with some American.”

Even in my ashamed and miserable state, I bristle at the implications that Damon is just some guy or that I’m foolish and immature enough to torpedo my entire future for a good fuck.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” I say sharply. “It’s just that I’ve realized over the last few months that marriage wouldn’t be right for us. I don’t want to hurt you any worse, but I’ve got to be honest about my feelings.”

He recoils. “Look. I don’t even care what may or may not have happened between you two while we were on our break. If you wanted to sow some wild oats or get a rebellious phase out of your system, I’m not going to ask. I forgive you. We