Page 104 of Vengeful Princess

Isobel watched him leave with a faint frown and then smiled again. “Please take no notice of my husband, Stuart. He’s notoriously grumpy.”

“He’s a lot more than grumpy, Mama,” Landon said as he appeared with a plastic tub of cake. “Some would call him a prick of the first order.”

“Lan, darling, don’t be rude about your father,” Isobel hissed, looking over her shoulder to make sure the asshole hadn’t heard.

“Nothing I haven’t said to his face, Mama.” Landon’s easy grin looked forced. He must not have a great relationship with his dad.

Just like me.

It seemed to be a common theme, what with Cassian’s father being a dick as well. I wasn’t sure about Milo or Kyril’s sperm donors, but knowing Kyril’s background, I strongly suspectedhisfather was a psychopath.

It went with the territory, my father being an excellent example of a mafia leader with psychopathic/narcissistictendencies. The DSM probably had his name listed in the section on psychopathy.

“Landon, a word, please.” Isobel stepped back as Landon’s father reappeared. From his clenched jaw, I suspected he’d heard what Landon said.

“Why don’t you go wait for me in the car,” Landon suggested. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He handed me the key fob and cake box.

“Lovely to meet you, my dear,” Isobel said warmly. She pulled me close for a quick hug. I tried not to tense up, but I wasn’t used to random displays of affection. Hugs were a rare commodity while growing up. “Please tell Lan to bring you back here again. He hardly ever brings girls back to meet me.” She looked sad, but having met his father, I could understand Landon’s reluctance to fetch girls here.

“I will,” I gritted out. While Isobel seemed lovely, I wasn’t keen on meeting Stuart Rothmore again. He could go take a running jump off a cliff. Before Isobel could rope me into anymore awkward chats, I muttered something about needing to warm up the car and hurried outside.

Landon appeared ten minutes later, his normally cheerful face marred by a scowl.

“Everything OK?” I asked when 20 minutes passed and he’d not said a word. He hadn’t even bothered hooking up his music to the car.

“Fine.”Well, OK then.I turned away and stared out at the falling snow. If it carried on snowing, the college would end up cut off from the nearby town. Potentially for a week or even longer if the forecast was accurate.

I wondered if my father knew about the snow. He expected me to travel down to London soon. He still hadn’t told me why, but he had said he’d send a car for me, which made my life easier. London was a long way from Scotland, and I didn’t fancy the idea of catching a train.

By the time we pulled into the parking garage, I was ready for a nap. The thought of going to another boring class made me want to stick pins in my eyes, so I made the snap decision to skip it.

Most of the professors uploaded recordings online within a day of their classes, so I could use that to check if I needed to complete any assignments. I was already falling behind, so I really needed to get to grips with the coursework, but it all seemed so pointless.

Torrance had warned me I would most likely be leaving in a few short weeks.Don’t get too comfortable with this life, he’d said in his last message. The implied threat being it could all be taken away from me in a heartbeat.

Landon switched the engine off and turned to face me, but I was already half-way out the door. “Thea, wait!” he yelled. “Cake!”

Dammit, I’d left the cake box on the back seat. I hesitated for a moment, then shook my head. Cake was a treat I didn’t deserve. I needed to get my head back in the game and focus. The longer I stayed away, the more danger Verity was in.

I jogged out of the rear door and headed back to my tower. The wind howled, blowing snow in my face. Even though it wasn’t 4 PM yet, it was so dark it could have been midnight.

There was no one around. No doubt everyone was in class or tucked up in their rooms, warm and cozy, which was where I intended to be.

I was so busy thinking about taking a hot shower and pulling a pair of comfy PJs on that I didn’t see the tall figure in a black hoodie jogging toward me. We collided hard, and I stumbled sideways. A firm hand grabbed my arm.

“Merda, are you alright?”That voice. I froze like a statue, no longer caring about turning into Frosty the Snowman.

A pair of chocolate brown eyes stared down at me as the runner pulled ear buds out and glared with enough heat to melt all the snow in the Arctic Circle.

“You,” he growled.

Dario hated me, and I had no clue why. There was a time when he said he loved me. So what happened? Why had love turned to hatred?

It made no sense.

“Dar, I—”

“Get out of my fucking way,” he snarled. He’d grown taller, broader since the last time I saw him. Back then, he was still a teenager with a teen’s lanky frame. Not anymore.

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