Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
☐ Punch Ange in the tit.
I look up at him, displaying my annoyance, and say, “That doesn’t mean I’m interested in dating guys who act like fools. Now excuse me.” I scurry away and get in my car. It’s the first time I’m allowed to drive myself to school without an entourage, but perhaps the old ways were better.
A sigh falls from my lips as I check my rearview mirror. My dad’s usual security for me lingers two cars back, and I know that he didn’t really give me full freedom, which I should have expected. A thought comes to me, and I wonder if Johnny was a test. Then again, maybe they purposefully put all these flirts in my way so I would want my old life back. Well, I passed and although the guys were obnoxious, I like having some freedom.
I didn’t flirt back, and I didn’t kill him, so I win. Sticking my tongue out in my rearview mirror, I drive out of my parking spot and through the lot. Johnny is standing with his friends by his car as I pass him, and he gives me a wave with a smirk. Ignoring him is the best thing I can do because there is no way I’m giving in to his bullshit.
When I get home, I’ll give my dad an earful about his little test and then tell him that I can handle myself just fine and that I’m not going to be letting boys just scam on me. I still want my prince.
As I make my way through Vegas and toward our family estate, traffic is heavy, so it takes longer than expected. I turn up the tunes and let all the tension roll off my shoulders. By the time I pull through our gates and down our long driveway, all thoughts of arguing with my dad are out the window. I spot the familiar vehicle parked in his usual spot. Miles Ivanov is in my home. The dark prince. Could today get any more intense?
He always lingers in the back of my thoughts, lives in my dreams, in my diary, and in my heart, but he isn’t my prince. At least several years older than me and a criminal mastermind, my godbrother Miles is talented and wanted by every woman in Vegas and back in Steeleville, where his parents live and where my mother is from.
I pull in alongside his vehicle, cutting off the engine, lingering in my seat and building up the courage to go inside. With my head down, I hear the front door open. Lifting my gaze, I spot my reason for staying back. It’s Miles.
As soon as I step out of the car and walk to the portico, he says, “You’re more than a few minutes late, Elsa.”
“Excuse me? Since when are you my daddy?” I question, pressing my hands on my hips.
“I’m teasing, Princess,” he says with a devilish smirk. “I wanted you to meet the new lady in my life.” My heart drops into my stomach.
I swallow hard. “Why would—” I cut myself off before I say something stupid, and it’s good because a cute little chocolate puppy comes running up to us yapping with a pretty pink collar around her neck. He scoops her up before she can run out the front door and then leads us inside the house like it’s his home.
“Come inside. I don’t want her to get out, Princess.” He knows I hate when he calls me that. I don’t really hate it, but I hate the way my body reacts to it. “I haven’t picked a name for her yet. What do you think we should name her?”
“We?” My brows raise in what I’m sure is a comical way, especially because I catch my father quickly mask his expression, but I don’t miss it. My teeth clench and still, I redirect my attention to Miles.
“Yes. Your dad offered your assistance in helping me care for this little girl,” Miles says, scooping her up in his arms without any concern for his overly priced, well-tailored suit.
“You said you wanted some responsibility,” my father adds, daring to speak after his betrayal.
“Yes, like a job. Not a puppy that’s clearly not mine.”
“Come, now, don’t be mean. Just think of it as shared custody,” Miles says, leaning in a little too close to me. Why does he smell so good? Even with a puppy in his arms, I can still smell his own personal scent. It’s imprinted on my nostrils. I swear I can tell every time he’s within breathing distance.
“Fine, but let me hold her,” I huff, reaching out to grab her without invitation.
“Be careful. I’d hate for her to scratch you,” he warns.
“It will be fine. She’s a baby,” I coo as I pull her from his arms. Our hands lightly touch, and I swear he intentionally lets them linger a little too long. That’s surely not the case since he doesn’t like me.