Page 7 of Ruthless Prince

“Ellie, come back here.”

I pause when I see a man on the ground, his front body bleeding. Kneeling before him is Vincent.

“Do you need help?” I ask. I reach out to touch Vincent’s shoulder then stop and think better of it.

He tenses then turns to face me. “My father just died. So, no, I don’t think you can help.”

I flinch. No one has ever spoken to me in such a cold, detached way before. “I’m so sorry. How did this happen?”

“Nico Mancini happened,” Vincent hisses.

“I … don’t know who that is.”

My father approaches my side and re-grabs my elbow. “Ellie, we need to leave now.”

“But this man just lost his father. We need to help.”

Vincent shakes his head. “I don’t need any help.”

“You must be freezing.” I notice his bare chest, but it’s not a sexual thought. It’s just an observation. “Take my jacket.” I start to take it off, but he backs away from me.

“I’m not going to take the jacket of some girl in this cold. I’m calling an ambulance. They can at least take my father away.” He sounds so … cold as he speaks. For someone who just lost his father, he doesn’t seem too upset about it.

“You fought well in there,” Father says.

Vincent stares at him for a moment before saying, “Thanks.”

“Mr. Moore.” He extends his hand.

“Vincent.” I notice Vincent doesn’t take my father’s hand.

After a second, Father drops his hand as awkwardness fills the air. “Well, I help fighters like you. I’m a manager if you need one.”

“Since my previous manager is lying dead on the ground, then I’d say yes, I do need one.” It’s obvious Vincent is being sarcastic, but my father doesn’t take it that way.

“Great. Here’s my card.” He hands it over, and Vincent slowly takes it. “Now, come on, Ellie. We need to head home.”

I start to turn away when Vincent says, “Ellie? That’s your name?”

“Yes. That’s my name.”

He stares at me for a long hard moment. “That’s a pretty name.”

Father scowls and gently pushes me forward, and I walk toward our car, doing as my father wants. But all I can think about on the drive home is how Vincent said my name and how detached he seemed about his dead father lying on the ground.

“You don’t think we should have helped him?” I ask my father once we’re home.

“I did help him. I gave him my card. Trust me. His father worked as his manager. Igor Antonov earned this city a lot of money, but now that he’s dead, Vincent will struggle. He’ll come to me for help then.”

It’s at this very moment I realize I don’t know my father all that well.

“How will you help him?” I ask.

Father gives me a hard look. “None of that is your concern. I don’t want you talking to him. No more going to any of the fights.”

“But—”

“No. My word is law in this house, Ellie.”

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