Page 10 of Ruthless Prince

I shake his hand.

Mr. Moore lets me come live with him and his daughter. The thought of being under one roof with Ellie excites me more than it should.

“My daughter is off limits,” Mr. Moore explains as we head to his house. “Don’t even think about her in any way, understood?”

“Understood.” It’s what I expected. I won’t risk my livelihood for pussy. Even I’m not that stupid.

Mr. Moore lives in a large, classical-looking mansion. A beautiful front garden filled with all different types of flowers. Glass windows everywhere. Hell, he even has statues out front.

It’s like I’ve stepped into a world of Grecian art.

“You’ll sleep here,” he says, showing me to a large bedroom. “It has its own bathroom, so you’ll have no reason to go to the other side of the house where my daughter lives. If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”

I don’t doubt he will.

I stand up straighter when Ellie approaches us. “Ellie.”

She blushes slightly and averts her gaze. “Vincent. I remember you. I’m so sorry about what happened to your father.”

“I’m not.”

The air goes awkward.

Mr. Moore clears his throat. “If you two decide to talk to each other, do it in the living room and only the living room. Now, Ellie, you have things to work on.”

She frowns. “What things?”

“Just leave Vincent alone for now.” He guides her away from me, giving me a pointed look over his shoulder.

Ellie is off limits. I get that.

But damn, she looks good walking away.

ELLIE

“Why is he living with us?” I ask my father once we’re in the kitchen.

“Because he needed a place to live, and Vincent can make a lot of money for us. Just stay clear of him. I don’t want your reputation ruined because of him.”

I’ve always been a good girl, but the sight of Vincent in our house makes me feel … things. Things I’ve never felt before. I blush at just the memory of him. Never before have I seen a man so handsome.

“But I can still talk to him?”

“Only where I can see the two of you.”

Without waiting for my father’s approval, I search for Vincent. He’s in his room, sitting on the bed, not moving.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

He jerks up. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“Do you want to talk? We have to go into the living room.”

The way he smiles causes my cheeks to flush all over again. “Sure. I’d like to chat.”

Once we’re seated on the couch in full view of the kitchen where my father is, I ask Vincent the question I’ve been dying to ask ever since I talked to him over the body of his father’s dead body.

“How have you been doing?”

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