Page 70 of Bitter Prince
“Well, I love him, if that’s what you’re asking.” I took a spoonful of ice cream and put it in my mouth. “Since my mamma died, he hasn’t been around much.”
“So you don’t stay with him?”
“No, he mostly stays with us at Grandma’s when we see him.”
A calculating look skirted past Amon’s expression, but it was gone so fast, I convinced myself I didn’t see it. “How does he conduct business when he visits you and your sister?”
“He uses Grandma’s office and her safe.”
He stilled, his features hardening, but then he took a deep breath. Almost as if he forced himself to relax.
“Ever break into your grandma’s office?” His tone was playful, but it didn’t quite match the expression in his eyes.
I blew a wild curl out of my face. “If you want to live, you’ll never cross my grandmother or rummage through her stuff. I’m convinced she was a dragon in her past life.”
That seemed to amuse him, his dark eyes shining with it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Yeah, forget about my papà,” I said, half-seriously. “It’s my grandma you should be scared of.”
I put another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth and I hummed my approval. I loved ice cream. He watched me eat it with heat in his eyes, and I was glad we stopped talking about my family.
“So, you’re a vanilla kind of girl, huh?” he teased as he took a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. A flush crept up my neck, and the hot feeling twisted in my lower belly. I wasn’t sure if he was insinuating what I thought he was or if my imagination was running wild.
“Well, I’m up for trying anything once,” I said coolly as I brought the spoon to my lips. “You know, don’t diss it till you try it.”
His nostrils flared and the memory of what we shared in Venice burned the oxygen in the room like fuel. I tried that, and I wanted more.
“Reina, you should never say that to a man,” he drawled, and his gaze glimmered with heat.
I chewed on my bottom lip and held it, burning up from it. “I’m not saying it to a man,” I rasped, glad that we always kept our conversations in English. Otherwise, this one would be inappropriate for a public place like this. “I’m saying it to my boyfriend.”
A restless buzz saturated the air while fire rumbled inside me with the need to feel his hands on me again. His mouth. His everything.
“That’s the right answer.” Then he switched subjects so abruptly that it left me dizzy. “Why didn’t you message me?”
I blinked, scoffing incredulously. “I don’t have your phone number.”
“We should rectify that, shouldn’t we?”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, duh. If you’re my boyfriend, I should totally have your number. So I can send you emojis. Call you over when I’m horny and shit like that.”
Then he did something I didn’t expect. He threw his head back and laughed. The sound was so beautiful that I soaked it into my bones and deep into my soul so I’d never forget it. My lips pulled into a happy smile as I watched him, mesmerized by the sound of it. I wanted to hear it for the rest of my life.
My sister always said there was nothing better than the sound of musical notes vibrating under your fingers. She could hear a certain tone when extremely loud and loved playing her piano so much that I just believed her. I loved music too, though maybe not as passionately. But now, after hearing Amon’s laugh, I knew she was wrong. There was no better sound.
“Give me your phone,” he ordered, extending his hand.
I reached for my backpack and dug for it. As soon as I pulled it out, I saw I had tons of messages and a missed call from Isla.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Let me shoot a quick message to my sister and let her know I’m okay.”
I slid the group message open, not bothering to read all the nonsense the girls had come up with today, and typed a quick,
All good. With Amon. Talk later.
I pressed send and handed Amon my phone, watching him add his contact. My phone buzzed, then buzzed again and again. Amon raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing as he handed me my phone back. I didn’t bother checking messages that were pouring in. It was relentless when they got going, and I’d rather talk to Amon right now.
“Won’t you add my number to your phone?” I questioned him.
