Page 99 of Vengeful Princess

That fucker. He was about as innocent as Donald Trump in a room full of lingerie models. I pushed my phone back into my pocket and diverted from the path to the gym. Tuesday afternoons were usually quiet in there, so I’d been using the time to run on a treadmill. I much preferred running outside, but until some of the snow melted, it wasn’t practical.

The day was bright and clear. Ice crystals sparkled in the sun and the snow-capped mountains reminded me of the Alps.

Dad had taken me skiing one time. At least I’d thought that’s what we were doing when he packed up the car with winter gear. I’d been all excited about the prospect of learning how to ski until I figured out the only reason he took me with him was to carry out a hit on some low-life who’d pissed him off.

Turned out a snowbank was a terrible place to slit someone’s throat. There was no way to hide the mess. The news reports the following day were a mix of horror and outrage. Horror that someone would leave a bloody corpse in the snow like a fucked-up snow angel, and outrage that a killer would do it in the middle of a luxe ski resort full of A-listers.

In my defense, the guy was ten times bigger than 12-year-old me, so I had to wait until he’d drunkenly staggered back to his ski chalet before killing him.

Landon was leaning against his car waiting for me when I strolled into the parking garage, his designer shades firmly in place.

He pushed his shades up and grinned. “Hey, wifey. Ready for the best chocolate cake in the Northern Hemisphere?”

“Sure,” I replied, not looking him in the eye. I was only here for the cake. At least that’s what I told myself. It had nothing to do with the fact he looked like a hot American pro swimmer dude I’d seen photos of online.

Landon’s green eyes twinkled as I shuffled awkwardly while wishing I was wearing something other than skin-tight leggingstucked into boots. Because yeah, anything tight was a bad choice when spending time with a flirt like Landon Fucking Rothmore.

He opened the passenger door for me like a gentleman, and I tried not to swoon. It had been a week since the shit show in the cafeteria. Kyril had tried messaging me, but he was firmly on my ignore list.

Dar’s reappearance made no sense, so it was easier to push him to the back of my mind. I was a pro at locking shit away when it hurt.

Thoughts swirled around my head as we left campus.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Landon said, expertly steering the car around narrow bends lined with snow drifts. It was probably foolish to be out driving in this weather, but he didn’t seem concerned.

“For cake, yes.” I’d had very little appetite since Dar’s reappearance.

“Florrie’s chocolate cake is to die for.”

I hummed a non-committal reply and continued staring out of the window. After a few more attempts at small talk, Landon gave up. He was probably wondering why he’d bothered. I was wondering, too, but grateful for a change of scenery, nonetheless.

Florrie flung the door open the minute we arrived. She hustled out and then gave us both a hug, which surprised me. Landon was family, whereas I was just a stray cat someone felt sorry for.

“Go, lassie, take a seat in the garden room. It’s lovely and hot in there today. The mistress has some new heat-loving plants.”

“Are any of them lethal?” Landon asked. “Does Dad need to worry?”

“Och, you rascal!” Florrie shook her head. “Your sweet wee mother wouldn’t dream of hurting a hair on your father’s head.”

“Not so sure about that,” Landon muttered, but Florrie was already on her way back to the kitchen.

“Are your parents not happy?”

“They have their moments,” Landon replied vaguely, but didn’t elaborate.

The garden room was indeed humid, the air moist and heavy with exotic floral perfume. I slipped my quilted jacket off and quickly pulled my hair back into a messy bun to keep it off my neck.

Landon’s gaze brushed over my tits, but to his credit, it didn’t linger. At least he was trying to be respectful. Not that it was helping. The memory of what we got up to the last time we came here was front and central in my mind.

Our cake and tea arrived a few minutes later. Landon hadn’t been exaggerating. Florrie’s chocolate cake was literally to die for. I managed to stuff down two slices before my stomach revolted and said no more.

Landon wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked up. “So, what’s the story with you and Dario the douche?”

I tensed. Was this why he’d brought me here? To quiz me while my guard was down?

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“He’s not said anything to any of us since he and Kyril got into it the other day. We’ve barely seen him. He spends all his time either in his room or working out in the gym.”

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