Page 122 of My Dark Horse Prince

Aww, crap. I almost made it out without having to tell her. “Just someone I know from school.”

She frowns. “You’re not exactly Einstein. I know everyone you knew from school, so that fact that you’re being vague means. . .” Her jaw drops. “It’s not Henri, right?” She pulls a face. “Because his breath.”

“Judging people for how they looked or sounded in grade school seems pretty unfair,” I say.

“Not looked,” she says. “Not sounded, either.” She stands up and stomps around the couch. “Is it Henri? Because I swear—”

“It’s Danils, okay?”

She throws her hands up in the air. “No.” She shakes her head. “I forbid it. Do you hear me?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re worse than Kris. Look, it’s not serious. He returned my horses, probably at a significant cost, and he pushed he-who-shall-not-be-named into signing the divorce papers. He at least deserves a dinner.”

“Thank you,” Adriana says.

“Huh?”

“Oh,” she says. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe you forgot how to say it. That’s what he deserves. Those two words and nothing more. He certainly has not earned a date with you. Because that’s going back to the bad place, and we don’t go there.”

She’s still ranting when I walk out the door, slamming it in her face. I really don’t think she gets to stay with me for free, sponging off me, or at the very least sponging off Kristiana—a friend she’s always abusing—while simultaneously ripping me a new one about my personal choices. I didn’t ask her why she’s flat broke, again. I didn’t press her about how she lost her job. She can leave me alone about where I go for dinner.

But of course, slamming the door doesn’t work. She just opens it and shoves right through, doggedly following me out to the parking area.

“—until you understand that it’s the same as with Mom. He’s the kind of guy who—”

I press a button and the car lights up and beeps at the same time. I can’t help a giddy smile. I open the driver’s side and slide into the seat, my bum smoothly shifting into a comfortable spot.

And the smell.

The new-car smell is heavenly. I’ve never really experienced it, only heard about it.

“What on earth are you doing?” Adriana gapes, as if she just noticed I’m sitting in a brand new car. “Did you steal this?”

I laugh. It just bubbles right out of me.

“Wait. Did Danils buy you this?” she asks. “That filthy, disgusting pig. I’m going to castrate him, I swear. Where does he get off, thinking he can buy you—”

“Adriana!”

She finally shuts up.

“This is a gift from Grigoriy, and I’ll explain it all later, okay?” With that, I close the door and put the car in reverse. Watching her expression as I drive away is now the highlight of my day.

My life’s confusing, but at least I’m not the only one left reeling.

By the time I reach Skovorodka, one of my favorite places, it’s totally slammed. I should have known—it’s a Friday night, after all. Of course, Danils is waiting for me, and when he sees me climbing out of my new Bronco, he waves and heads over to meet me.

“This is a nice car,” he says. “Where’d you get it?”

“I thought it was a gift from you,” I say.

He blinks.

I head for the door, towing him behind me like a kitten following its barn-cat mother. “I’m kidding. Grigoriy gave it to me.”

Now he’s frowning. “I thought you broke up.”

“We did,” I say. “But I guess he hasn’t given up yet.”

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