Vicious Prince (Royal Elite #5)(25)

“Right? I knew it.”

“Or she’s playing a game.”

Damn. “How do you know which is which?”

“That’s the question all philosophers ask.”

“And the answer?”

“There’s no answer, Ronan. You have to live with the fact that you won’t understand how women’s brains work.”

“So how should he react?”

He raises an eyebrow. “By not being a pussy. If you get a chance, seize it. I mean, your loser friend should seize it.”

I grab a pen from the table behind me and throw it at him to wash away his smirk, but he catches it above his head. His smirk turns into a full-blown grin.

“My information helped after all.” He twirls the pen between his index and middle finger. “Don’t you think you owe me?”

It’s my turn to smirk. “Don’t you think you owe me more? Imagine if I didn’t tell you about how she acted in front of your secret admirer.”

“Next time, when you tell me something, don’t do it when Aiden is around.”

“Why? You think he’ll change his mind?”

“Like fuck he would.”

There’s a knock on the door before it opens and Silver peeks inside. She’s different out of our school uniform. At home, she’s in a pink mini-dress that moulds to her curves and puts emphasis on her tits that Xan and I have been tricking her into showing us since we pre-pubescent.

Girls like Silver used to be my type: blonde, put together, hot as sin, and from my social standing.

Now, it seems no one is my type.

Correction — Ron Astor the Second thinks only one is his type, and there’s nothing I can do to change his mind.

“Dinner is ready.” She barely makes eye contact with Cole before focusing back on me. “Hey, Ronan. Join us.”

Cole’s face remains the usual — bored, like he’ll commit suicide because of how dull the world is — but he stops twirling the pen.

“Ronan was just leaving,” he says.

“Blasphemy. I wouldn’t miss your mum’s cooking for the world.” She’s a bestselling author and yet still finds time to cook the best meals. Silver’s mum is hotter, but Cole’s mum is homier, softer and Mum’s friend. If I were Silver’s father, I would’ve had both. Just saying.

I jump up and wrap an arm around Silver’s shoulder. “Is it only me, or do you look so hot even in house clothes?”

She grins and flips her golden hair. “What can I say? It’s my default.”

I steal a glance at Cole and he mouths, “Leave.”

I pretend I didn’t see him as I walk with his stepsister down the hall.

He catches up to us and whispers so only I can hear. “Leave before I break that arm.”

“Silver, did you hear someone talking?”

“I don’t think so.” She smirks, and I smirk back.

I’m starting to feel how Aiden did all those years. This sense of power over Cole is euphoric.

My phone vibrates. It’s a text from home.

Lars: We have a situation.





After kissing Cole’s mother on the cheek and pissing her son off one last time, I leave their mansion.

I arrive at home in record time. I called Lars on the way here, but he didn’t pick up, which means he’s busy doing what-the-fuck-ever and doesn’t have time for a phone conversation.

This better not be what I think it is.

The moment I step into the house, I feel it — the change in the air, the shift in the atmosphere. Even the usual jasmine scent Mum loves so much seems to dim, swallowed by a different type of smell.

Something potent and yet unnoticeable.

Lars appears at the entrance and nods in the direction of Dad’s office. I don’t have to be told twice, and I take two steps at a time, only stopping myself from running because staff members shouldn’t see an earl’s son running.

Pretty sure they also shouldn’t help him throw parties or hide his weed stash, but semantics.

I’m near the office when it opens, and two men emerge. One is my father, and the other is his younger brother, Uncle Eduard.

Unlike my father, Eduard is an energetic man in his late thirties. He works in the imports and exports branch of my father’s business. He’s basically Father’s right-hand man, aside from being his most beloved brother.

He dresses in eccentric colourful suits — his way to attract attention. Today, it’s dark purple with some mosaic-coloured cloth at the breast. While Father is tall and broad, Eduard is lean and has scrawny shoulders. His looks are average at best: round nose and slightly bulging green eyes, as if they’re not able to fit in their sockets. The genetic difference between him and my father is noticeable. One looks every bit the aristocrat he is, while the other appears like a charity case — which he was at some point, being a stepson of the Astor family.

The moment he sees me, Eduard abandons Father’s side and clasps me in a hug. I freeze for a moment, meeting Dad’s eyes, and then I wrap my arms around my uncle, patting him in that ‘people with titles don’t hug’ awkward way. Even my father shakes his head at that.

He never managed to get Eduard to quit this habit. He never will.

“Look at you, nephew.” Eduard pulls back to look me up and down. “You’ve grown.”