Page 49 of Vengeful Princess

“I don’t recognize your name, dear,” Lucian said, stepping closer and effectively boxing me in, out of sight behind a stone pillar. I gripped my clutch like my life depended on it. There was no way I could murder Lucian out here, with hundreds of guests a few feet away. Yes, the terrace was currently empty, but someone could push open the doors at any second.

“I came with my friend Annabelle Sloan.” I’d read about Annabelle in the society pages last night and knew it was highly likely she was on the guest list. The woman frequently popped up in the society pages, drunk and draped over some Hooray Henry.

The gossip websites were full of paparazzi photos of her with Cassian at the same events over the years. Of course, if Annabelle was currently sunning herself in the Maldives, it would derail my story, but I strongly suspected Lucian didn’t give a fuck about his son’s friends and whether they’d bothered showing up for a ball.

“Ah, Annabelle. You must give her my regards. I owe her father a game of golf one of these days.” He chuckled, and I laughed too, hoping he lost interest in me and left.

Instead, he leaned in closer and fucking sniffed my neck like a total creep. Never had the urge to kill a man been so strong. This man was a stone-cold predator, and I wondered how many women he’d abused over the years.

“You smell divine, my dear,” he murmured in a low voice. “And that dress is…lovely.”

I seriously wanted to kill Eden right now. The dress she’d insisted I wore was lovely, but it barely covered my cleavage, which Lucian seemed overly interested in.

He stared at my breasts with such intensity I couldn’t help but cringe with discomfort. I was no stranger to men staring at my tits. It had been that way since I hit puberty, but this man was old enough to be my father. And worse, he was Cassian’s father.

Eww. Gross.

“I should probably go find Annabelle,” I tittered, flicking my fake red hair over my shoulder to hide my cleavage. It wasn’t the right time. I needed to wait. Catch Lucian off-guard later, when he was drunk and well away from the other guests.

“I’d prefer it if you stayed, my dear,” he said with a creepy smile. One hand reached out and stroked my cheek before sliding south and resting on the swell of my tits. “Are these real?”

“Excuse me?” Anger threatened to unravel my drunk girl persona, and I had to force myself not to hit the nuclear button. The blade strapped to my thigh was within reach. It wouldn’t take much effort to fillet this pervert from crotch to chest.

The more he talked, the less guilt I felt about doing my father’s dirty work. While I didn’t feel great about potentially hurting Cassian, Lucian Forsyth was a stain on society. Filth of the worst kind.

How dare he prey on a young, drunk girl!

OK, so I was only one of those things, but still. If I had been drunk and vulnerable, I would likely have shit a brick by now.

“Are these real?” Lucian repeated more slowly, just in case I hadn’t understood the first time. “So many girls these days have work done. It’s such a shame.”

“All mine,” I forced out. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Annabelle is bound to be looking for me and I really need to go. It’s been lovely meeting you, Mr. Forsyth.”

I tried to push past him, but Lucian was very solid for a middle-aged dude. I guess now I knew where Cassian inherited his broad physique from. Thank fuck he hadn’t inherited his father’s sociopathy, too.

“Not so fast, Dora. You’re my guest, so I’d like to get to know such a pretty young woman better.”

“Please let me go,” I said in a low voice, injecting a thread of fear into it to see how he reacted. Sure enough, as I expected, his eyes lit up like the predator he was. I bet he loved making women cry. He was probably the sort of predator who got off on the chase.

I knew all about men like that. Torrance was one of them. The key to handling them was never show a trace of fear.

Lucian thought I was a sweet little lamb, ripe for the slaughter. He was about to have a rude awakening.

As Lucian pressed me against the stone balcony, distracted by my boobs, I reached down for my knife. Then a loud cough from the doorway made us both jump.

“Father, a word, please,” a familiar voice said.

25

Cassian

“What is it?” My father’s fists clenched in anger as the girl he’d pinned against the wall pushed past him, her face concealed by a black mask and flowing red hair. The scent of vanilla and coconut washed over me when she brushed by, and I followed her with my eyes. There was something familiar about her olive skin and curved ass.

Was she from our circle? If she was, the red hair was clearly fake. Nobody had natural hair that shade of red. It was more Jessica Rabbit than auburn. I liked it, though, just as I liked her curvy body.

“Mama was asking for you,” I lied. “She’s not feeling well.”

“Your mother is alwaysnot feeling well,” he huffed irritably, annoyed because I’d cut short his fun. “I’m not sure why you needed to interrupt me forthat.”

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