Page 75 of Wicked Prince

What the hell is she doing here with him?

That's the first and only thought in my mind as I walk into the restaurant Kayleigh has dragged me to in her latest attempt to monopolize every moment of my free time she can get her hands on.

Kayleigh goes silent and I realize I've been caught staring again. She follows my gaze over to the table where Stefan Romero is sitting with Amelia—myAmelia—and scowls.

I'm not sure if she's pissed she caught me staring, pissed that Amelia is existing in public, or a combination of both, and I really don't care. At the moment, the only thing I give a shit about at all is the fact that Amelia is here. With him.

What the fuck?

"Hi, welcome to Apollo's," the hostess says, smiling brightly at us both. "Would you like a table or a booth?"

Before I can answer, Kayleigh says, "Actually, our friends are right over there." She points right to the table where Amelia and Stefan are seated, and I give her a suspicious once-over. What the hell is she doing?

Nothing good, that's for damn sure.

"Sure, go right ahead," the hostess says.

Kayleigh is already walking over, and I think of stopping her, but the truth is, I want to know what the hell he's doing in my city—and most of all, what he's doing withher.

Stefan looks up as we walk over, meeting my eyes for a moment. They turn sharp and cold, which I know to be his true nature, despite the innocent puppy dog routine he puts on for everyone else.

Stefan is a fucking snake, and the fact that he's coiling around my little fawn is enough to send me into a table-turning rage.

"Oh, God," Amelia mutters, not quite under her breath as she sees us approaching. It's not like I had any delusions that she would be happy to see me, or that I'm even enough of a narcissist to expect it, but she clearly isn't bothering to hide how she feels.

Then again, I guess she could be as annoyed to see Kayleigh here as me. It's probably wishful thinking, but I indulge it all the same.

"Stefan," Kayleigh says in a syrupy sweet tone, making a beeline for the other guy. "Oh my God, I can't believe you're here, too. What are the odds?"

"Pretty low, I'd say," he says, standing to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise. I didn't think I'd be seeing you at all until family dinner."

I give Kayleigh another look, frowning. "You didn't tell me anything about this."

"Didn't I?" she asks innocently. "I could've sworn I did. It's been a crazy week."

"Right," I mutter.

"Lorenzo, this is—"

"I know who he is," I interrupt, staring him down.

"Indeed," Stefan says, staring right back. He smirking a little, but I'm not sure if it's because he knows who Amelia is to me, or because he knows I see him for the scumbag he really is. I know Amelia better than to think she would have said anything to him, at least about me, so the former seems unlikely. "We've met at a few different events now."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Kayleigh says, because she can’t read a room to save her life. And yet somehow, she's going to end up being a professional socialite, just like her noxious mother. Then again, you don't actually need people skills for that. Just money and a pretty face. "Why don't we all eat together, then?"

Under normal circumstances, I could think of just about anything I would rather do than spend an unnecessary moment around Stefan Romero, but the idea of leaving Amelia alone with him is even more unpleasant than his general existence.

Stefan hesitates, glancing back at Amelia. "That depends. I know you said you weren't feeling well."

She looks confused for a second, so I'm pretty sure he's just saying that to give her an out. Being a "gentleman," just like his father.

"Sure," Amelia says, even though I can tell from her tone that she would rather be getting a root canal. "Why not?"

Kayleigh is already walking around the table, so I pull out the chair next to Amelia and sit down across from Stefan. I didn't think it could get any more awkward than sitting at the table with Kayleigh, the girl I actually want, and both our families, but this night seems like it's in close competition with that one.

"What brings you to town, Stefan?" I ask, unable to keep the question from sounding threatening. I'm not sure I want it to sound less, though.

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