Defiant Prince: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Black Rose University Book 1)

by A G Henderson

  “This was fun,” she ventured, lifting her glass and taking a small sip.

  My stomach clenched on what had to be several pounds of delicious food. “Anything but this,” I blurted before I could overthink the decision. “Please,” I said with more composure. “No small talk.”

  Her lips tipped up at the corner, the only reaction I received.

  “I knew I liked you,” she said. “You’ve come a long way from pink dresses with frills and bows, but I’m glad to see that courage hasn’t gone anywhere.”

  My brows pinched together. “I’m sorry?”

  “The birthday party. The one where my dramatic son made himself scarce and went to sit on the pier instead.”

  “You were there?” I couldn’t remember seeing her, but I couldn’t claim to have looked, either. As a kid, adults were hardly people I paid attention to unless it was demanded of me. It wasn’t like I would’ve sought her out.

  Her finger rolled around the edge of the glass. “I was, and I couldn’t believe what I saw. Even back then, Ambrose was incredibly good at shutting people out. He erected a barrier so well-fortified that people bounced off it and gave him a wide berth, and not just those he knew. Then there was you.” Her eyes narrowed. “You approached him of your own accord.”

  I shrugged, uncomfortable beneath her scrutiny. “That was my spot he decided to perch his butt in. No offense, ma’am, but I would’ve been damned before I gave it up without a fight.”

  She nodded. “I’ve talked to your father a few times since they returned to the city. He tells me you’re avoiding them.”

  That’s one way to jump around in conversation.

  I swallowed the first barbed response that sat on my tongue, but the hooks got stuck in my throat, tugging against unaired grievances. When I opened my mouth, I couldn’t stop the poison that spilled from my tongue.

  “Funny. He had more than five years where he could’ve talked to me any time he pleased, but he didn’t care to. Now, all of a sudden, it’s starting to feel like I’m the bad guy for not returning phone calls from someone who didn’t give a damn about me!” My chest burned, and a quiet voice urged me to stop. But I couldn’t. “Do you have any idea how long I waited to hear from him again? To see my brother? But everybody went along with his decision and left me with my wreck of a mother to pick up her pieces. No one asked how I felt because they didn’t care. Forgive me if I keep sending those calls to voicemail for the next four years until I get far away from both of them!”

  Wetness splashed onto the linen napkin in my lap and I ducked my head to swipe at my cheeks. Great, just fucking great. This was exactly what I needed after ranting to a stranger about things I’d never admitted to anyone else. I looked pathetic falling apart, and I couldn’t stop it from happening.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, pushing back from the table as I stood. “I think I need a minute to—”

  “Sit down, Emily.”

  Her voice was a sharpened diamond, captivating and deadly in its brilliance. Sniffing to keep my nose from running and adding to my humiliation, I dared a glance. There wasn’t pity on her face—possibly the one thing that kept me from taking my chances getting lost in the maze of the house—but she didn’t exactly look compassionate either.

  If I had to guess, this was her business meeting face. A surge of sympathy for the people who worked alongside her ghosted through me as I returned to my seat, drying my face as best I could.

  Mrs. LaCroix came to my side of the table, filling her son’s seat. She didn’t reach for me. She didn’t do much of anything other than turn to look at me and fold her hands in her lap.

  “You’re not wrong,” she said, surprising the heck out of me. “But you don’t have the whole story either.”

  “And you do?” I recognized the bite to my tone when her brow arched. I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. Old wounds.”

  “I understand. And no, I don’t have the whole story. No one does other than your parents. But I do think I have a piece that you’ve been missing, even if it isn’t necessarily my place to give it to you.”

  My chin tipped up almost by itself. “If it has to do with what I’ve had to deal with all this time then I think I deserve to know.”

  The hard edges of her stare eased.

  I’m not going to like this, am I?

  “When he was your age,” she began, “your dad had an impossible choice to make. Fate, or love...”

  Nuh-uh. Not going to like this at all.

  33

  Emily

  I changed my mind. Mrs. LaCroix was an evil woman, perfectly content to leave me waiting on pins and needles while she got up and went into the kitchen. She took a couple of plates with her, started washing dishes, and generally pretended I didn’t exist.

  All part of the plan, I guessed. Because she didn’t say another word until I sighed and went to help her.

  “You know your dad is from here originally?” she asked, grabbing another plate to wash.

  I moved to the stack she’d already finished and started drying them. “Yeah, but he doesn’t really talk about it much.”

  “Have you ever wondered why?”

  “Not really. It never seemed that important. But I have a feeling you’re going to change my mind.”

  “He doesn’t talk about it because lingering on the past can be painful, even for those of us who know how to push that pain deep enough to largely ignore it.”

  I glanced at her, but her face revealed nothing. It was a smooth, gorgeous mask, hiding a woman I was quickly growing fonder of. Who hand-washed dishes in this day and age? Especially when there was a perfectly good dishwasher tucked beneath the counter? This was either a gimmick—which would’ve been too much work to put on just for me—or something she did regularly.

  And there was something endearing about watching a person who had it all still be willing to get their hands dirty.

  Mom would’ve never touched any of these plates once they’d been eaten from. She damn sure wouldn’t have put her hands in soapy water, risking her always manicured nails in the process. That always fell to me.

  “Our families have called these mountains home for generations,” she continued. “And only recently have we started to leave behind some of our less...savory methods of doing business. We grew up together, and your dad was a big part of pushing those changes through and getting rid of the old guard. I chalk a large part of his cooperation up to the matter of his fate.”

  “You’ve mentioned that twice now,” I said. “Fate. Ambrose talks about it a lot. So do the rest of the Tarots.”

  She nodded, passing another dish to me. “For a long time, we lived our lives believing that there was no greater accomplishment than to be true to our various purposes. The group acted as a unit, never straying from our duties, and we believed this kept us unified against our foes.”

  “Foes?” I lifted a brow.

  She glanced at me, lips curling in a tight smile. “Enemies seemed needlessly dramatic considering they’ve all been ground to dust by this point.”

  Oh, so this is where he inherited his scariness from.

  I stilled, and it was clear she knew the effect she had from the way she nodded and released me from the thrall her eyes held me in.

  Mrs. LaCroix reached into the sink, but there wasn’t anything left. After drying her hands, she leaned against the countertop and took a deep breath.

  “Our history is long, complicated, and largely irrelevant. But your dad’s duty was to marry within the circle. To unify two houses that hadn’t fared as well as the others while times changed.”

  “Arranged marriage? Creepy, but I don’t get what any of this has to do with—”

  “He was supposed to marry Alyssa Stone.”

  My head whipped around, surprise and tension putting pressure at the base of my neck. “Her!?”

  Mrs. LaCroix laughed before grabbing a bowl of grapes from the refrigerator and leaning back against it. Popping one into her mouth
, she chewed and swallowed, clearly amused by the flush to my face.

  “Since the effects of that debacle are still making themselves known nearly two decades later, I’m sure you can imagine how poorly it went over back then. To refuse the arrangement that had been made when they were children? Such a thing was unheard of.”

  “Then...why’d he do it?”

  She shrugged. “Because he was in love, and even though we did our best to make him realize that falling in love with a Thornwood—much less marrying one—would be like pouring accelerant on his life and lighting a match, he did it anyway.”

  “Mom went to Thornwood?”

  Why did no one ever tell me these things?

  “She did. At the time, she was a nobody. That swiftly changed when a Tarot took interest and it’s fair to say that things spiraled out of control from there.” Mrs. LaCroix peered at me, brows drawn. “Your mother has always been a bit of a wild child and your dad never was. The mess they made was big enough to leave him with no choice but to raise you and your brother somewhere else, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “As much as I appreciate it, I have to ask. Why are you telling me all of this in the first place?”

  “Because”—she tossed another grape in her mouth—”while you have every reason to be upset with both of them, and I can’t speak for what transpired between you and your mother, I’d ask you not to judge your father too harshly. Not all of his decisions have been the correct ones, but he worked with what he could.”

  Mrs. LaCroix put the bowl down and stepped closer, briefly squeezing my hand in hers. “He’s trying to make amends, Emily. Whether he’s a day late and a dollar short or not is something you have to decide for yourself. But things always get...messy when the choice lands between fate and what the heart wants. Having money, power, and connections doesn’t mean we handle it better than anyone else.”

  She stepped away and watched me, and there could only be one thing she was waiting on.

  “I’ll talk to them,” I said. “At some point. And keep what you said in mind when I do.”

  Her lip twitched and fell into its neutral position. “That’s the most anyone can hope for. Although there is just one other thing I’d like to ask you before my son comes barging back in here to steal you away. Is he being good?”

  Good.

  I tilted my head, thinking about all the things I both knew and didn’t.

  The blood on his knuckles that first day. His insufferable attitude that very few people were spared from. What he’d done to Dylan Oliver. His association with Kaylee Vandyke, whoever the hell she was.

  “He’s been good to me,” was what came from my mouth.

  Whether or not I had all the pieces, I had to remind myself that I’d never been opposed to any of his other ventures either. I trusted him. Maybe even with my heart.

  She smiled again, eyes flicking over my shoulder. I glanced behind me to find Ambrose leaning against the doorway leading into the kitchen, arms folded over his chest, gaze doing this smoldering thing that was very inappropriate with his mom standing right there. Not that I’d voice my complaint, mind you.

  When a guy like him looked like that, there was no reason to be anything other than thankful.

  Mrs. LaCroix moved past me. Before he could react, she’d swooped in and pressed a kiss to his cheek that left him scowling and trying to get away from her.

  “Seriously?” He wiped at his face.

  His mom laughed with her whole body, shoulders shaking, head thrown back. “Too easy, Ambrose. Too. Easy. But that’s my cue. You two don’t stay up too late. It’s still a school night, and I’m sure you don’t want me walking in there to wake you up.”

  With that, and a quick wave, she rounded the corner and set off down the hall.

  Ambrose watched her go for a moment, head shaking.

  I closed the distance between us and got up on my toes, pressing my lips to the underside of his jaw. The low groan that came from him as his focus returned to me made the whole night worth it. It also had the added benefit of sending the pool of heat low in my belly into overdrive.

  “Does that mean what I think it means?” I asked him, nipping and sucking my way down his neck. “No sex beneath their roof and all that?”

  His hands fell to my waist, the warmth of his palms soaking into my skin through my dress. “No,” he growled, taking the tip of my ear between his teeth and biting down lightly. “It just means I won’t be able to fuck you in the shower in the morning, so we’re going to have to work those extra rounds in tonight.”

  “Rounds?” I lifted a brow, sighing into his chest when huge hands squeezed my ass. “Someone is feeling pretty confident about their performance.”

  “Oh you little...”

  I squealed when Ambrose hauled me over his shoulder and set off down the hall in the opposite direction his mom had gone.

  “My dad gave me a talk I wasn’t expecting,” he said, keeping a quick pace like my weight meant nothing.

  “About the birds and the bees?” I teased. “Isn’t it a little late for that?”

  His hand on my ass tightened, kneading my flesh. “You’re lucky I like your mouth, because that damn thing never stops.”

  “You’re right about that.” I played the bongos on his butt because I couldn’t resist the opportunity. Dude had an ass that wouldn’t quit. I still needed to try and bounce a quarter off it.

  He’d probably give another patented scowl and eyebrow raise, but I’d have solved the theory by then so who really cared?

  Ambrose huffed, ducking through an open door that he kicked shut behind him. When he set me on my feet, I looked around a room that was oddly similar to the one he shared with the Tarots. Same black bed, black sheets, and black furniture. Two things stood out as different.

  One, it was bigger. Obviously. Two, some of the accolades he’d been awarded over the years were mounted high up on the walls. From his previous complaints about having them taken down throughout the house, I had a fun time imagining how they’d found themselves near the peak of the tall ceiling.

  My lips tipped up. I could picture his dad on a ladder, mounting them so high that Ambrose would never be able to get them down without going up himself.

  “Not the birds and bees,” he said, spinning me around. Slim fingers found the zipper of my dress and tugged, letting the fabric collapse around me until it could pool at my feet. His lips met my shoulder, tongue gliding on a wet, burning slide to my neck. “Worse.”

  “Worse how?” I breathed, wrapping an arm around his neck as his hands settled on my waist. I tilted my head so he could have better access, and he didn’t make me wait before his teeth slid along the column and left me trembling.

  “He reminded me that it would be dumb as fuck to let a beautiful girl slip through my fingers because I’ve been avoiding calling this anything.”

  My breathing stalled, eyes closing. I focused on the fluttering beat of my pulse, willing it to slow despite how pointless that action was.

  How was I going to get my pulse to slow down while my heart was doing a triathlon inside my chest, rounding the corner of the final lap as I eagerly raced towards what he was about to say?

  “What are you going to call it?”

  He brushed my hair aside, placing another wet kiss on the nape of my neck while he unlatched my bra and let it fall. Ambrose slid my panties down my legs next, a slow path that seemed to take that much longer because he was content on kissing every part of me on the way down.

  “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” he muttered softly, guiding me to the bed and sitting me down on the edge of it.

  I crawled towards the headboard before splaying myself out in the middle of the soft sheets like an offering for him and him alone. And he wasn’t the kind of guy to turn down the gift. He watched me like a hawk, eyes lost in the dark room, but that didn’t stop me from feeling them sweep across my body in an endless, looping
caress.

  Ambrose stripped so fast it was almost comedic. But there was nothing funny about the strong, solid lines of him before my eyes. About the chiseled abdomen I could feel beneath my tongue from the last time I licked my way down it. About the solid thickness of him twitching and swelling before my eyes, lengthening until it was pointed right at me, the head swollen, angry, and ready.

  I wet my lips and met his eyes again. “Just say it. Don’t be such a baby.”

  He lowered himself onto the bed, prowling across the sheets. I spread my legs without preamble, making a cradle for his shape as he settled against me. His dick got trapped between my folds, and we both sighed in pleasure when he briefly slipped through my slickness and pressed against the entrance of my body.

  “Fine.” He grunted, hands going to either side of my head while he stared down at me. “You’re mine, Emily Brennan. Nobody else gets to see you like this. No one gets to hold you, touch you, or fuck you like I do.” His hips rolled and he almost slipped inside me again. “No one gets to know the sounds you make when you cum, or the look in your eyes when you’re satisfied, or the way you melt into my arms when it’s just the two of us. Those all belong to me.”

  I’m yours, my heart said, beating harder when I didn’t let those words flow.

  “About time,” was how I actually answered him. I couldn’t admit to the rest. Not yet. Not now. It was too fast.

  And no matter how much he looked at me like he was right there, feeling the exact same things, I had to keep in mind that—not long ago—the same guy who held my heart in the palm of his hand hadn’t wanted anything to do with me.

  Revealing all my cards when he kept playing his close to his chest was an amateur move.

  At least that’s what I told myself when I cupped his jaw in my hand and pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips.

  It didn’t stay sweet for long.

  Ambrose let me take more of his weight as he deepened the kiss, tongue sweeping in to clash with mine. I rolled my hips in a frenzy as the need crashing through my system took the wheel. Each time the blunt head of his dick spread me open I released a plaintive please into his mouth, unashamed to beg for what I needed.