Page 130 of Brutal Prince

“Wow.” I give him an appraising stare. “Almost long enough for us to have a conversation.”

I immediately regret the comment, but I refuse to apologize. Dad lets out a world-weary sigh, and then all I hear are his dress shoes taking the stairs.

Well done on keeping your temper, Briar. What does it matter anyway? Not like there’s anything he would actually enjoy talking to me about.

I snort at myself and chug down half the bottle of water.

* * *

I don’t havethe mental reserve to speak to my father that night. When I wake up, the promise I made Marcus keeps repeating through my head.

I make myself a cup of coffee, hesitate, and then pour a second cup, adding cream and one sugar. Upstairs, I walk to the end of the hall and rap my knuckles on the bedroom door.

“Come.”

Soon as I’m inside his bedroom, I do a quick scan for my father. I find him on the balcony, sitting in an ornate fretwork chair reading the morning newspaper.

“Morning,” I say, putting down our coffee cups on the round table that goes with the outdoor set. His balcony is the second largest — the second-level entertainment area takes first spot — and there’s more than enough space for both of us to stretch out our legs.

The sun’s still coming up in the east, outlining the distant pines in yellow and gold.

“Sorry about last night,” I say, doing my best to make my voice sound as sincere as possible. “Was in a mood.”

“Perfectly understandable, boy your age. Hormones must be raging.”

Instead of replying, I take a sip of my coffee and glance at my dad from the corner of my eye while he reads his newspaper.

Mom used to say we look like twins born two decades apart. I guess she’s kinda right — I take mostly after him.

“I, uh, I have a favor to ask.”

After I’d decided I’d speak to Dad about Marcus, Indi slipped into my mind like she’d been impatiently waiting her turn since last night.

I need to convince her about Dylan’s party. And I know no better way of buying someone’s affection than with jewelry.

“What is it?”

“Can I borrow something from your collection? On loan, of course.”

My father snaps closed his newspaper and peers at me with narrowed eyes. Then a sparkle touches his eyes. “Of course. Do you have anything specific in mind?”

I twitch my mouth into a lopsided smile. “I was kinda hoping you could help with that.”

“That’s why I get paid the big bucks.”

He brings his coffee cup with, so I bring mine too. He stores his collection inside a vault in his study. I know the combination of his study, but don’t have a fucking clue about the vault. Plus, I know he needs a key to open it too, one he wears on a chain around his neck, one I’ve never seen him without.

I don’t bother trying to watch him open the vault — there’s no way I can see anything interesting — so I run my eyes over his study instead.

A place for everything, and not a hair out of fucking place. This place is so tidy, it makes my teeth ache.

“Come on,” Edward calls out, and I trail him into the vault. It’s slightly smaller than a walk-in closet, but it sparkles like the inside of a lit-up diamond. I narrow my eyes a little and squint around, but everything looks as glittery as the last. Stones in every conceivable shape and color vie for my attention.

There should be an epileptic warning on the vault door.

“What complexion does the young lady have?”

My eyes fly to Edward and I frown warily at him.

---