Page 23 of Broken Prince

I took careful steps and sat at the other end of the table, trying to calm my heart at the rejection.

I opened my mouth to insist that I received a dinner invitation but closed it again. He seemed to be in such a bad mood already.

I took a bite, the meat melting in my mouth, the explosion of favor. This meal was amazing.

I heard his fork clang loudly on his plate.

I looked up and frowned.

“Who sent you?” he growled low, menacing.

I rested my cutlery softly on my plate. “Sorry?”

“I said, who. Sent. You?” he repeated louder, his voice so cold I shivered.

l let my eyes wander down to his hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles were bone-white.

“Sir, I—”

“Who?” he roared, swiping at the table, sending his plate flying and shattering against the wall.

I recoiled so hard I fell off my chair.

He stood up briskly, his chair tipping backward. He sprawled toward me slowly like a predator playing with its prey as I crawled on my hands and knees, keeping my teary eyes on him.

My heart beat so hard I could barely hear him over the deafening sounds in my ears. I didn’t think I'd ever been more scared in my life.

“Is it Benny? To spy on me? Or no, let me guess Matteo to play a sick game? He knows me better than I thought. He figured what kind of girl could make me tick even if I didn't know it myself.”

I was making him tick?I was not sure what he meant. I was now against the wall, recoiling on myself, letting out a sob.

“Did you think your fucking ploy would work? What were you going to do? Offer to suck on my dick to heal me?” His mocking tone felt like poison. “Do you have a magical mouth, girl? Have they tried it to make sure you suck good?”

“I have no ploy. Please, sir, you’ve got to believe me.” I felt bile rise in my throat as he hovered over me, his face still in the darkness. Was I going to die?

“The dinner invitation, my mother’s cooking?” He was speaking through gritted teeth, his body shivering with anger and indignation as mine was shaking with sheer terror.

He leaned closer, pulling back his hood with a jerk.

It was not the scars that made me recoil; it was the look on his face. A mix of anger and desperation I'd never witnessed before.

“Is that what you wanted to see?” he roared, leaning so close I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “The beast?”

“N-no, I…I—”

“Luca, stop!” a male voice commanded from behind him. “I asked her to come down to dinner; it was not a trick.”

Luca straightened up and turned around slowly. I brought my knees up and rested my forehead on them, now sobbing even more freely both with fear and relief at the other man's interruption.

“What did you say?” Luca asked, his voice so eerily calm.

“Fuck, Luca! She didn’t trick you. I did! I set up the dinner. She—”

I heard a door slam shut and then silence.

“Hey, Cassandra. Look at me.” The voice was deep but gentle, soothing.

I looked up tentatively at the man crouching in front of me. His dark eyes were gentle, despite the harshness of his features, sharp cheekbones, predominant Roman nose.

---