Cruel Prince (Royal Hearts Academy, #1)(3)

“Gross. What is wrong with you?”

Shielding my vision with my hands, I proceed to back away. Unfortunately, I knock into the coffee table so hard I see stars.

“Dammit,” I yelp, gripping my throbbing calf.

“You’re not Hayley.”

Talk about stating the obvious.

“No shit, Sherlock.” I make the huge mistake of looking up. “Oh, my God, dude. Can you please put your wiener away?”

“Sure thing,” the pervert says, rising from the couch. “As soon as you tell me who the hell you are and why you’re in my house.”

He has got to be kidding me.

“Seriously?” I point to myself. “I’m Dylan.”

He tilts his head to the side, like he’s having trouble understanding why my name would have any significance to him.

“Your cousin,” I grit through my teeth and he blanches.

Eureka.

I breathe a sigh of relief as he pulls up his pants.

“You’re not supposed to be here until Saturday.”

“It is Saturday,” I inform him, and his eyes widen.

“Well, shit.” He places the blunt between his lips and inhales. “This stuff is better than I thought.” Coughing, he holds it out to me. “Want some?”

I give him a sardonic smile. “I appreciate the peace offering and all, but I’ll pass.”

He doesn’t look offended in the least. “That’s cool.” His expression turns serious as he snuffs the cherry of the blunt on a can of soda. “Look, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell the parental units I tried to bang you, okay? They’re on my case enough lately.”

Oakley doesn’t have to worry. I won’t be telling anyone he tried to bang me.

I give him a nod.

He nods back.

And then it’s nothing but uncomfortable silence.

Quite the riveting exchange we’re having here.

“It’s Saturday night,” he declares unexpectedly while stretching his arms over his head and yawning. “Christian’s throwing his big end of summer party before school starts.”

I don’t know who Christian is, but I wouldn’t mind going to a party. In fact, meeting a few people and reconnecting with some old friends before school starts will probably make things easier for me on Monday.

My heart does a little flip. Maybe Jace will be there.

There are so many things I want to tell him.

And even more things I want to ask him.

Like why he blocked my number. Or why he never returned any of the dozens of messages I sent him on social media after I left.

“A party sounds like fun. I can be rea—”

“Don’t wait up,” Oakley utters, brushing past me.

Well, that settles that then. My cousin is a bigger tool than the one contained in his pants.

“By the way,” he calls out from the stairs. “The school admins are assholes. I doubt they’ll let you keep that blue crap in your hair.”

Highlights. They’re called highlights.

A smile touches my lips. I hope they hate my blue hair so much they refuse admission and I have no choice but to attend Royal Manor High instead.





Chapter 2





Dylan





“Your hair,” my aunt exclaims as she wraps me up in a hug the next morning. “I like it, but Royal Hearts won’t. I’m gonna see if I can book an emergency appointment with my salon girl today.”

Oakley peers up from the breakfast he’s currently wolfing down. “Told you.”

I shoot him a dirty look as my aunt squeezes me tighter.

“My goodness. I can’t get over how grown-up you are.”

Oakley grins. “Like a tall Smurf.”

I preferred it when he was passed out on the couch.

There’s a frown on my aunt’s face when we break apart. Like me and my mother—Crystal has pale blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and a freakishly fast metabolism that makes us appear to be in much better shape than we are.

She’s also disturbingly perceptive at times.

Her expression is careful, like she’s afraid I might break. “How are you holding up?”

I ignore the twinge in my chest. If I give in and break down now—I don’t stand a chance of making it through the next twelve months.

Falling apart won’t change the fact that my dad’s currently in jail for embezzling money from the multi-million-dollar company who employed him as their chief financial officer.

Because of my greedy stepmonster.

Because he didn’t want to lose her.

Because somewhere along the way, she became more important to him than me.

“I’m fine.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “A little tired from jet lag, but other than that, I’m totally cool.”

I’m positive my attempt to redirect her question was a failure, but fortunately my uncle waltzes in to save the day.

“Why does the basement smell like pot?”

Or not.

Wayne isn’t a big man, his son easily towers over him, but there’s something awfully intimidating about him.

Which probably explains why they call him a shark in the courtroom and he’s one of the top defense attorneys in the country.