My Dark Prince: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Dark Prince Road)

That won’t happen again. And even if it does, you belong across the country, you fool.

I pulled my shoulders back, digging my fingernails into my jeans until my hands stopped shaking. I’d grown up in the past fifteen years. I could handle whatever life threw at me. Life should fear me, not the other way around.

With that, I thrust open the door, finding Oliver splayed on his still-made bed. The moon trickled in through the balcony door, casting a thin ribbon of light on my fiancé. He looked something straight out of a Courbet painting – red-rimmed eyes fixed on the ceiling, his shirt half unbuttoned and the unmistakable stench of alcohol wafting to me.

My sweet, tortured boy.

I felt like an interloper, as if I’d interrupted an event I wasn’t invited to – a showdown between Oliver von Bismarck and his demons.

“Ollie?”

Silence engulfed us for a few moments. I didn’t think he’d even heard me until his response rattled my bones.

“I think I broke him forever.”

We both knew who.

With false confidence, I strode to the bed and sat on its edge, caressing his cheek. Its temperature shocked me. Cold, and frigid, and wet from tears. Oliver von Bismarck was not a crier. He never drank this much, either. Not even as kids, when we snuck sips of wine. He always made sure to manage his consumption, somehow both the instigator and the responsible party in all our adventures.

I rubbed away a tear with my thumb. “Who did this to you?”

Whoever it was – I’d kill them. Even if that person was Sebastian.

“I took him to a doctor. Well, bribed him under false pretenses, if we’re being technical …”

He tried to scoot up against the headboard but swayed from the booze. Instead, he twisted over the edge of the bed and puked his guts out. His entire lunch and a sea of vodka swirled together in a soupy lake.

“Ah, shit,” he muttered.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” I squeezed his shoulder, helped him upright against the headboard, and passed him two Advil from the nightstand. “I’ll clean it up.”

I rushed to the supply closet, returning with paper towel rolls, a trash bag, and antibacterial wipes. Ollie tossed his head against the leather rest, mumbling his apologizes while I paused to order chicken cháo on DoorDash.

When I finished and washed my hands, I settled beside him on the edge of the bed, brushing away hair from his sticky forehead. “Let’s try again. Take two. Tell me what happened, baby.”

“We haven’t been to the doctor in years – five, at least – and never to a plastic surgeon. He fucking hates anything medical. But he seemed so much happier lately. I thought … I thought things would be different this time.”

So, Oliver noticed the change, too. The wheels churned in my head, pieces stitching together.

I sighed, rubbing Ollie’s shoulder. “You took him to a plastic surgeon.”

“I wanted to see if we could reconstruct his face. Give him some of his confidence back.”

I didn’t point out what we both knew – that Sebastian would never be the same. His face would never be the perfect sculpture it once was. The doctor could graft skin, implant cartilage or silicone or whatever, reconstruct his lips, but the evidence of his horrific accident would still be there.

They couldn’t completely erase the scars that slashed across his face. There would be signs, and people that once knew him would spot the difference between Old Seb and New Seb. He’d live with the stigma of his past forever.

“He lost it there, Cuddlebug.” Ollie shook his head, staring at an imaginary spot behind my shoulder. “He simply lost it. Screamed at the doctor, intimidated a nurse, tossed a chair against a wall. It was bad.”

I swallowed my gasp with a gulp, pressing my lips together in a tight seal.

“I’m at the end of my wits, Briar.” Oliver stuck his fingers inside his hair, tugging hard. “I can’t do this anymore. He doesn’t want to get better.”

“You can’t force him. It doesn’t work that way.”

Sebastian’s journey was his own. Rushing him would only have the opposite effect. Recovery doesn’t shout. It whispers – and it needs time to be heard.

“I know.” Oliver ran his knuckles over his stubble. “But I thought maybe … since you two seemed to be getting along …” He froze, realizing his mistake.

My spine stiffened. He knew about me visiting Seb?

I pulled my legs to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “Ollie?”

He raised a shoulder. “I caught you once and eavesdropped. You got him to eat pizza. Watch Family Guy. Crack jokes.” He paused, his lips casting a miserable smile. “I heard him laugh for the first time in fifteen fucking years.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured Seb told you not to tell me. He thinks I’ll see him do normal things and take it as an invitation to push him out of his cave.”

I sent him a glare that screamed, duh.

Oliver slapped his own forehead. “He was right, wasn’t he?”

“He’s not ready. Rushing him will only make him clam up more.”

“I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.” Oliver let his head fall into his palms. “Sometimes, I wonder why I even try.”

“Because you love him.” I drew circles on his back, trying to comfort him. “You’re happiest when the people you love are happy. That’s who you are. You won’t stop until you see Sebastian smile again. Every day, not just for a moment because I managed to distract him with my incomparable charm.”

Oliver snorted. “You are incomparably charming.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

We smiled at each other, and it was a sad, sobering smile, because I realized, in this moment, that Oliver von Bismarck and I didn’t stand a chance.

What I loved most about Oliver – what I’d always loved the most – was his willingness to sacrifice his own happiness for the people he loved. If I asked him to choose me, I’d be asking him to become someone else.

He needed to stay here for Sebastian.

I needed to choose myself for once.noveldrama

These were the right decisions, so why did they feel so wrong?

Oliver pawed my face, meeting my forehead with his. “I know I’m still drunk off my ass, and this is probably taking the sting out of this impending love declaration, but fuck, I love you.” He closed his eyes, breathing heavy. “I love you so damn much, Briar. Sometimes, it’s hard to fucking breathe when you’re gone.”

An anchor pinned down my heart. I soaked in his words – his love – knowing they didn’t change our situation. We would have to part ways. Sebastian’s relapse required Oliver’s care, and my movie started shooting in two and half weeks.

Oliver’s hands bracketed my face. He breathed me in. “The only thing holding me together today, when I wrestled Seb into the elevator, was the knowledge that I’d see you at the end of the day. You make existing in the shadow of his tragedy bearable. With you, I think I can survive this.”

But I didn’t want Oliver to survive. I wanted him to live.

I rubbed my nose against his.

“I love you, too,” I whispered, and my heart broke because I meant it, and he was beautiful, and I would never get enough of the boy who held me when no one else would, and still, it changed nothing. “I never stopped. No matter how hard I tried. No matter how thoroughly I convinced myself I despised you. I never did.”

There are two types of love – one fades, the other consumes. The endless fire is the one that burns, and few can survive the flames.

Oliver scooted off the bed and proceeded to fall flat on his ass before righting himself, hobbling into the walk-in closet. He returned with a velvet ring box the color of Lake Geneva. My breath caught in my throat.

No, no, no. Not right now.

I needed to stop this before it spiraled out of control. To remind him of my shooting schedule and his duties to his brother. But he seemed so broken today that I couldn’t bring myself to contribute to his pain.

“I wanted to get you the biggest, most extravagant, most obnoxious diamond ring in the history of rings. I could, too.” He met me at the edge of the bed, dropping to one knee as he popped open the box. “But I know that isn’t what you want. That you’d hate walking around with a diamond, even ethically sourced.”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from informing him that ethically sourced diamonds didn’t exist.

“So, instead, I scoured every fucking lab in the world for the biggest, most extravagant, most obnoxious lab-grown diamond ring in the history of rings.” A grimace twisted his lips down, holding back a gag. “I still get a little sick thinking about giving you a fake diamond. It’s like walking around in knockoff Jordans. But anything for you, baby.”

I swallowed my panic, burying it beside the toxic mix of amusement, and sadness, and happiness. “That’s not the sustainable diamond making you ill. It’s the booze.”

Stop this madness, Briar. Do it right now.

But how could I? I wanted the proposal, and Oliver, and my career, and Sebastian’s future. Greed, it turned out, is lethal. It will kill your heart before it moves on to new victims.

“I’m completely botching this for-real marriage proposal, aren’t I?” Oliver smacked his own head, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “Wait here.” He stood up, swayed, and grabbed my shoulders for balance. “Just … wait.”

He half-ran, half-lurched into the bathroom, switched the showerhead on, and brushed his teeth for a full ten minutes. Then, he lumbered back to the bed, where he’d left me, clad in a full-blown three-piece suit.

By the time he returned, I’d dented the ring box with how hard I’d clenched it. Ollie didn’t notice, too eager to finish his proposal. He pried it from my fingers, knelt before me again, and grinned from ear-to-ear with childlike glee. He was proud, and beaming, and maybe a little drunk.

“Cuddlebug,” he said as serious as a nuclear threat.

“Hot mess,” I responded.

His wholesome laughter settled inside my belly. “I love you. I am crazy about you. I am never letting you go again. Marry me. For real. I can make you happy. I know I can, because I’m willing to dedicate my entire life to making it happen.” His trembling fingers pinched my chin, tilting it up. “Give me another chance. I won’t blow it.”

Tell him it won’t work.

Tell him that you need to go.

Tell him that we need to end this before the fake wedding spirals out of control and explodes in our faces.

But I couldn’t break his heart. Not on the same day Sebastian had broken it. He’d drowned himself in alcohol, for goodness’ sake.

I clasped his face in my hands and forced a smile onto my lips, hoping this beautiful, perfect, inebriated boy would forget this ever happened by morning. “Ask me again when you’re sober.”

“I am sob—”

“Please,” I choked out.

Before he could protest, I crashed my lips against his. A strangled moan ripped free from the back of my throat. I slid down the mattress onto the hardwood, straddling his knee between my thighs. He hissed, dropping the ring box with a soft thud, one hand clutching my ass tight.

His free hand gripped the back of my neck and guided me down to the floor.

He ground his mammoth erection between my thighs, never breaking our filthy kiss, even as he murmured into it, “How was wedding dress hunting today?”

I could barely conjure a coherent sentence with my hands roaming his body, rushing to strip him of all the clothes he’d just put on.

“Unproductive,” I finally managed, my tongue traveling down his jawline, tracing a straight line to his neck. I needed us to stop talking about a wedding that wouldn’t happen.

He grabbed my ass, arching me off the floor and grinding me against his hard on. “No?”

“Nope.” My boobs pressed against his bare chest. Goosebumps blossomed all over my skin. “I’m going commando.”

Our hands flew everywhere, our legs tangled as we panted in the same rhythm. The same pulse. My hips met his, over and over, meeting his rock-hard cock through his slacks. I struggled to unbuckle his belt. He kicked his pants down, trying and failing to tug off my wraparound dress.

With a sigh, he unglued his lips from mine. “How much do you like this dress?”

“Well, it is Target’s finest …” I rode his leg, desperate for contact. “From about seven seasons ago.”

“Would you be very mad if I tore it to shreds?”

“I’d be very mad if you didn’t.”

His teeth clamped around the string keeping the dress together, snapping it clean. I gasped. A gust of cold wind danced over my bare skin as the fabric slid off me. Oliver fisted my panties, shoving them down as his mouth latched onto my nipple, sucking it hard.

“I’m obsessed with every fiber of your body, Briar.”

“What a coincidence.” My teeth grazed his shoulder. “Every fiber of my body is obsessed with you.”

And then he was inside me, bareback and sheathed to the hilt. For a moment, we both stilled, savoring the feel of our bodies connected. My eyes fluttered shut.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

But I wanted to, knowing this would be the last time I felt this. I dug my nails into his back. Letting go of this man would be the death of me.

He started moving inside me, and through the haze of pleasure, the fog of bliss and grief, I still managed to bite out, “Condom.”

I’d stopped taking the pill in the hospital and never got around to securing a new prescription.

“Oh, shit,” he groaned but didn’t stop moving inside me, and I didn’t stop pulling him closer, into me, biting and nibbling. “Should I stop?”

“I mean … I guess you can pull out,” I heard myself say, as he picked up speed, which was how I knew I didn’t lose my mind – I never had it in the first place.

As for Oliver – he wanted to marry me. Impregnating me probably didn’t scare him.

“I’ll pull out,” he promised, thrusting deeper into me.

He grabbed my left ankle and guided it over his shoulder. The deeper angle ramped up the friction, conjuring a guttural moan from me. His hips moved in circles each time he ground against me, rubbing against my clit, always managing to prioritize my pleasure.

And there, in the midst of Oliver’s personal hell, I found my heaven between his arms. I clung tighter to him, on the brink of something big, something far superior to just another orgasm.

He stopped to circle his cock inside me.

“Don’t break my heart, Briar,” he warned, pulling out.

“What happens if I do?”

Without a warning, he crashed into me, deeper than ever. I convulsed around his cock, sinking my teeth into his shoulder. He thrust faster now. Sweat dripped from his face down my mine. My eyes burned from the contact, bringing me to the verge of tears.

Sure. That’s why. Let’s go with that. Not because you’re about to break both your hearts.

“To you?” He tipped his head back, giving me a view of his perfect throat. “Nothing. You get to live your happily-ever-after with someone else. I’d never hurt you. To me, however?” Ollie jerked inside me, quicker, more erratic, losing his rhythm alongside his self-control. “I’ll be finished. You have that power over me. To end my life as I know it.”

I came in his arms, clutching onto him for dear life as my body spiraled into a hurricane of delirious desire and joy. Every cell in it tingled and trembled.

Oliver pulled out of me, crawling his way up my body. “Gonna come now.”

He positioned his gleaming cock in front of my face. It looked painfully engorged and full, the crown purple and slick with my wetness, a pearl of precum beaded on the slit.

He fisted his cock, aiming it at my lips. “May I?”

I nodded enthusiastically, opening up. He slid his cock into my mouth and settled deep inside my throat.

“So pretty.” He latched on to the edge of the mattress for balance as he fucked my mouth, watching as tears sprang to the corners of my eyes. “So fucking perfect. You look so beautiful with your lips wrapped around my cock, baby.”

I gurgled happy noises as he fucked my face, one hand traveling up my cheek and petting my hair as he rained praises and orders down on me.

I could live inside you.

Scream my name around my cock.

So tight, and perfect, and mine.

Be a good girl and make me come.

Tears ran down my cheeks. This tasted like goodbye.

He rubbed the water off my cheek, probably chalking it up to my gag reflex. “I’m coming.”

He moved to pull back, but I grabbed his ass, keeping him inside me. My teeth accidentally scraped the skin of his cock. That was all it took for him to explode inside my mouth. His cum ran down my throat, hot and thick.

I swallowed it all down, sucking every drop I could.

His thumb ran up the base of my throat. “So greedy.”

You have no idea.

After I finished milking him, he collapsed on top of me, groaning into my neck. He was heavy, but in a delicious, all-engulfing way that made me feel safe. And I did feel safe, for as long as we stayed together.

“You’re my safe place,” I breathed into his neck.

He snored loudly in response. Holy crap. He’d fallen asleep right on top of me. That was how much today had fucked him up.

Just before I wiggled my way from under him, I caught his sleepy whisper.

“You’re mine, too.”