Page 136 of Vengeful Princess

“No.” From the way her smile faltered, she didn’t appreciate my instant dismissal, but as was typical for her, she carried on regardless.

A few months ago, I might have gone along with her flirting, willing to overlook her personality if it scored me a blowjob, but not anymore. I couldn’t afford to have any photos of me with another woman pop up on social media. Not ones that might damage my engagement, at least.

“Well if you change your mind,” Olivia purred, trailing her fingers down my chest while biting her lip. I’d thought we were past this stupid circus. The last few times our paths had crossed,Olivia had mostly ignored me. But it was late, and she was likely drunk, so her inhibitions were lower than usual.

Drunk Olivia never had any boundaries. I almost smirked when I recalled how she’d let Xavier and Raff tag-team her last year, only to cry rape when a video appeared on social media.

Fortunately for the guys, the video showed her enthusiastically consenting. Didn’t stop her bad-mouthing them, though. If she’d had her way, they would have been kicked out of college, but common sense prevailed and eventually, the gossip train moved on.

Her friend, Helena, looked uncomfortable. They both knew I was engaged, and the fact Olivia willfully chose to ignore that said a lot about Olivia’s morals. Or lack thereof.

“I won’t,” I replied, grasping Olivia’s hand and shoving her backward, not minding one bit when she stumbled in her ridiculous heels.

Thea rolled her eyes when I sat down across from her and passed her a drink. From the way the back of my neck burned, I guessed Olivia was kicking off at the bar. Knowing her, she was telling everyone who’d listen it was only a matter of time before I gave into the inevitable and accepted her as my future wife.

Yep. The silly bitch had delusion down to a fine art. Even more so than Camilla.

“I’m lucky my clothes aren’t flammable,” Thea muttered. “Or I’d be a pile of ash right now.”

“Ignore her,” I advised, sipping my single-malt. “She’s just a nasty, jealous bitch.”

Thea coughed as she swallowed some of her whiskey. “Tell it like it is,” she chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “So why are we here again?” She gazed around at the thick stone walls and fairy lights strung everywhere. No Christmas tree yet, though. Still, it wouldn’t be long now. No doubt the college would look like Santa’s Grotto within a few days, readyfor the Christmas Gala on the last Saturday before the Christmas holidays.

“Because I decided we both needed something stronger than coffee.”

The fire blazed behind me, warming my back nicely. A group of juniors sat nearby huddled together laughing about something, and in the corner, a couple looked like they were considering moving their date to a bedroom.

I ought to spend more time in here. It had a cozy, relaxed vibe, comfortable sofas, and the bar staff gave no shits about any of us. They served drinks, cleaned up spills, and then kicked us out when things got too raucous, or it was time to close.

“I’m not usually a whiskey drinker,” Thea said, “but this isn’t bad. So I’ll forgive you for not letting me choose my drink.”

“Your round next time,” I winked. “But make sure mine’s a whiskey.”

“Noted.”

Some of the tension left my shoulders, and as the heat from the fire sank into my bones, I slowly relaxed. Tomorrow was soon enough to think about the long list of bullshit tasks my father expected me to complete.

He was fond of testing my loyalty. Mostly because he believed I was like him: cunning and traitorous.

I was nothing like him. Whereas my father would happily sell his soul to the devil in return for money and power - and probably had at some point - I cared little for those things. Sure, it was nice having a credit card with zero limit and all the many advantages that came from being born a Forsyth, but none of those things made up for the lack of love I’d endured since birth.

My mother loved me, but she was incapable of protecting me from my father. She’d lost any backbone she might once have had. Probably around the time she exchanged vows with my father. These days, her solution to the horror show that wasmarriage to Lucian Forsyth was to pop as many pills as was humanly possible.

My father enabled her addictions. In fact, he likely caused them. He seemed to take great pleasure in sending her away to various rehab facilities the moment she started to wake up from her fog of chemical dependence. He also paid for the nurses who watched over her and controlled everything she did.

My home life was a toxic mess.

I had a feeling Thea could relate. Maybe that’s why I was drawn to her.

She had a darkness in her. Not just the fact she was comfortable with murder and mayhem, a bit like Kyril. It ran deeper than that.

Sometimes, when she thought nobody was looking, she seemed so sad and lost. Like there was no way to escape her shit life.

Again, highly relatable.

And not just for me. Landon’s life was no picnic either, despite the fuckboy persona he liked to show the world. His father used him in ways that were even more twisted. The only difference between him and I was he wasn’t being ordered to marry a woman he hated.

Not yet, at least.

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