Page 27 of Vicious Prince (Violent Kingdom)

I don’t tell either of them what happened with Will. I’m going to pretend it was a bad dream for now, until I can process what he said in the light of day. As it is, what he said — me stealing years of his life — is a cancerous guilt that is slowly making it’s way through my body, settling in my stomach like a lead weight. I’m pretty good at compartmentalizing things in general — I’ve had plenty of practice, after all — but something about his anger, the raw desperation in his eyes, has rattled me.

Luckily, my delightful new fiancé is around to snap me out of any uneasy daydreams my mind is spinning about Will.

“Avery, darling,” Joshua says, giving me a look that saysWhere the fuck have you been, as he wraps a hand around my waist and pulls me in. “I’d like you to meet some people.”

I groan inwardly, plastering a smile on my freshly-glossed lips. “Show the way, lover,” I reply with a fake sweetness, one that contains a deadly venom bite. I spend the next little while shaking hands with people whose names I will not remember, whose small talk I couldn't give a fuck about, nursing a champagne flute without drinking any.

“You don’t like your drink?” Joshua asks, steering me into a quiet corner as people start to get loose and loud around us. “I can get you anything you like.”

“Gee, thanks honey,” I reply. “Can you get me another fiancé? One of my own choosing?”

Joshua laughs, my insults barely registering on his radar. “Isn’t that the guy who was in your room before? Will Hewitt? I thought for sure you’d take his offer and frolic off into the sunset with him.”

I feel my mouth drop open.

“Oh come on, Avery. You’re not the only one who knows your way around this hotel. I own a minority stake in the Palatial, remember?”

“Right,” I say. “That’s why you’re always creeping around here.”

He pulls a face, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “Let’s be real. You’re the only reason I creep around here, sweetheart.” He gestures to the crowd. “To be honest, I was starting to lose hope that this would ever happen. Your father has been incredibly patient with your desires to experience a career and have a relationship before you finally settled down to your real job.”

Ugh. He didn’t. “My real job?”

He takes the flute of warm champagne from my hand and places it on the table beside him. “Avery, you’ve got a multi-billion dollar company to run. Not to mention, a bunch of Capulet babies to make. I know you’re young, but don’t worry — that’s what I’m here for.”

“Thank you, my prince,” I reply, my words dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Joshua smiles at me as if I’m a petulant child stamping her foot. “You’re so pretty when you’re angry,” he says. “I know you think your ice queen act is protecting you from me, but I’ve always liked the cold.”

I open my mouth to respond, but I never get the chance. A loud bang echoes in the night, and everyone still on the outside deck draws in a collective gasp.

Joshua’s hand wraps around my wrist as he jerks me into his side. For once I’m not trying to stop him — I’m craning my neck, searching for the origin of the noise, or at least the damage. The first thing that comes to mind isIt’s probably just fireworks. The second isWhat the fuck has Will done?

I get my answer soon enough. I scan the guests, but nobody seems to be hurt, just rattled. I check off my nearest and dearest — Nathan and Jennifer are standing beside the exit, seemingly oblivious as she tucks her blonde hair behind her ear and giggles at whatever story he’s telling her. Uncle Enzo is at the bar that sits beside the far end of the pool, his hand outstretched and waiting for a fresh beverage. And my father is standing at a long table beside the pool that is groaning with food and champagne glasses, a few feet from Enzo, a strange expression on his face.

It’s dark, but not dark enough that I don’t see the red spot on my father’s white shirt. At first I dismiss it, thinking it’s just the rose he had tucked in to his suit jacket earlier, but then I see the round spot spread across his shirt, getting wider.

“Daddy?” I yell across the pool. My father takes a faltering step toward the pool’s edge, still on his feet, still looking completely fine apart from the red on his shirt and the strange, frozen expression on his face. He looks toward me, his glass falling from his hand in slow motion as he grabs for something to steady himself. He catches the end of the table with his hand, but it doesn’t slow his trajectory forward, into the pool. I hear a scream as he hits the water’s surface, and it takes me a second to realize the sound is coming from me.

The table full of food crashes into the pool a second later, tortilla chips and napkins scattering across the water’s surface as a widening puddle of blood marks the spot where my father is rapidly sinking to the pool’s bottom. People scream and flee, confusion in the herd, everyone trying to fit through the double doors that lead to the ballroom and beyond.

I watch in horror as Uncle Enzo jumps into the water fully clothed, followed immediately by Nathan. I step toward the pool, intending to do the same thing myself, but a hand clamps around my wrist like a vise. I look down to see who is holding me back. Of course. My nightmare.

“Let go of me,” I half-sob, wrenching my arm as hard as I can from Joshua’s grip. He has moved from smirking asshole into overprotective fiancé in the space of approximately three seconds, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and ferrying me toward the exit. “Let go of me!” I scream. He releases his grip momentarily, and I rush to the edge of the pool just in time to see Enzo bring my father to the edge of the pool. Nathan is already out, soaked from head to toe, and he’s crouched at the edge of the pool, his arms hooking under neath my father’s arms and pulling.

I kneel beside him, reaching out to help, when Nathan notices me. “Get out of here!” he yells, water like a river down his face. “Josh! Get her inside!”

“No,” I protest, as Joshua pulls me up and starts dragging me to the exit, where Jennifer is standing with a shocked expression on her face. “No!”

Joshua, his resolve apparently strengthened by Nathan’s demand, corrals me through the exit. I notice several security guards gather around us as we move, their movements choreographed and swift. They all have guns drawn, all wearing black suits, every one of them with earpieces in their ear. I continue to struggle with Joshua, anxiety pumping through my veins like some kind of adrenalin overdose, my thoughts locked on one objective: to get back to my father. To make sure he’s OK.Is he dead? Will he die before I can get back to him? Is somebody calling an ambulance? Why can’t I hear sirens?

“Avery, stop,” Joshua snaps. He pushes me into the wall of the narrow corridor that leads to our private Capulet elevator, the security guards still a tight circle around us. But nobody interferes. They’re like a wall of muscle separating us from the rest of the world, human shields, but none of them are going to tell Joshua not to manhandle me to shut me up.

“Is he okay?” I gasp, my entire body ice-cold. “Is he dead?”

I’m still fighting Joshua’s grip, his fingernails digging into me.

“Hey!” Joshua yells, shaking me hard enough that there'll be bruises on my arms tomorrow. “He’s not dead, but you might be if you don’t stop fighting me. Look at me, damnit!"

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