Page 15 of Spearcrest Prince

“He didn’t—” I stop. “For fuck’s sake!”

Iakov gives me half a smile. “At least you got your meeting over and done with.”

“I can’t stand her,” I say honestly. “I can already tell she’s going to be nothing but a massive pain in my ass. I want nothing to do with her.”

“I doubt it,” Iakov says. “You two seem made for each other.”

I give him an incredulous look. “Are you insane? Have you seen her? Can you imagine taking her anywhere? She’s wearing a T-shirt in a club, no shoes, no make-up—what kind of look is that?”

Iakov shrugs. “A look that got your attention.”

“For being so ridiculous.”

“Who cares what a girl wears anyway?” Iakov asks. “What’s underneath is what matters.”

My mind flashes back to the coat room, sliding my hands up that narrow body, those small breasts with their pointed nipples. My cock stirs, but I ignore it. There’s a reason we were created with our brain so far from our crotch. The two aren’t so much mismatched allies as mortal foes.

“Not in her case,” I tell Iakov. “Trust me. Girls my type dress wellandlook good underneath their clothes.”

“Girls your type don’t even interest you,” Iakov says, sounding unimpressed. “At least this one’s interesting.”

“This one’s been picked for me by my parents, and I’m not about to let them control who I fuck or spend my time with. I don’t give a shit about her body, her personality, or anything else. She could be Aphrodite, the goddess of love herself, and I still wouldn’t give a shit.”

I glare at Iakov as if he’s the living embodiment of the Montcroix and Nishihara parents and their schemes. But as usual, Iakov is unruffled. He shrugs, and with his bleak, Russian nonchalance, he says, “I like her.”

“You fucking have her, then,” I say with a dismissive gesture, resuming our walk towards the dancefloor.

A rare grin appears on Iakov’s face. Not his usual little crooked half-grin, but a full-blown one, wolfish and a little feral.

“You sure?”

I give him the middle finger just like I did with Anaïs. “Fuck off.”

I’msittinginaprivate booth, drowning my concerns in Iakov’s top-shelf liquor, when the door slams open. I look up, half-expecting Evan, who always bursts into places like he’s in the middle of a rugby game. Instead of a tall, broad American, though, I’m confronted with a beautiful girl in a slinky golden dress, her hair in braids so long they fall past her hips.

My heart sinks.

Kayana Kilburn, the party princess of Spearcrest, storms into the private booth, looking as stunning as ever. Her brown skin gleams in the light, and gold bracelets glitter on her wrists and upper arms. She looks as beautiful as always.

She looks as beautiful as she did the day she broke my heart.

She sweeps right past where Luca is slumped into the couch and stands in front of me, glaring down at me.

“What did you say to Anaïs?”

“Nothing that would be of concern to you.”

Kayana might be the girl who broke my heart, but that doesn’t mean she can talk to me like that.

“Well,” she says, “Anaïs decided to leave, and I’m guessing it’s all your fault.”

“Did I ask you to bring her here, Kay?”

My tone is cold, but inside, pain and anger sear through me. Why is Kay so interested in being friends with Anaïs? If she hadn’t played with my heart and snapped it like a careless child with a toy, then I might have been engaged to her by now, not some random stranger.

Although Kay hurt me more than any girl ever did, I’ve never wished her harm, and I never thought she wished me harm. But I don’t trust her intentions for bringing Anaïs here.

At least she’s gone now. That gives me some relief. Because if Anaïs left, then I don’t have to worry about her sneaking off with random guys. Not that I was worried about it. Anaïs can do whatever she wants—I could not possibly care less how she chooses to spend her time.

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