Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

The ring I’d ordered and her things. Both arrived. Her stuff was sent with one of her father’s lackeys, and the jeweler I commissioned to sort out her ring for me on short notice was waiting for me in my living room.

The ring is beautiful and actually looks like her.

It’s the kind of ring I’d get if this were real between us and she were my doll. My girl. I put it in my back pocket and head to the hall where all her stuff is. I’m going to go through it personally. Never can tell what that old fucker might have put in here. I was surprised when he agreed to have everything sent over.

It’s everything she packed up for Florence. It was already packed, so I don’t know why that fucker took four days to send it when I requested it the day after the meeting.

There were over twenty suitcases and five smaller bags she was supposed to carry on her flight, plus four large boxes that were supposed to be shipped over.

Typical princess with too many bags. Ironic how she packed up to move to a different country and ended up with me.

It takes me a little over an hour to go through her stuff. I sorted through her clothes first. Then got lost in her art. She’d packed up all her art supplies and ten paintings that I have to admit are breathtaking. She’s good. She’s really good and definitely right to call herself an artist. She was going to the Accademia in Florence. I know they don’t take any old person there. You have to be good. And because of who runs it, money can’t buy you a place with them. You have to earn your place.

She seems to do a mixture of landscape and dark fantasy. Ma was a landscape person, and she liked doing portraits too. She loved painting people and did many paintings of us.

When I checked out Emelia, I had to admit that the first thing to strike me about her was her talent. Now I’ve seen it.

It’s after seven. Dinner is being made. I have plans to change things up a little bit with Emelia. Now that I have the ring, I think it’s time. I look at the elegant little black dress she wore to the ball resting on the arm of the sofa and nod to myself. She will wear this tonight. For me

I grab it and some of her underwear, then head to my room to get showered and changed. I throw on a black long-sleeved dress shirt and black slacks, then trim my beard just to clean it up. Once I’m done, I make my way to Emelia’s room with the little dress and the bag with her panties, knowing she’s going to bitch at me for going through her things.

She’s sitting by the window when I walk in, still wrapped in that sheet.

She sits up and gives me that look a lot of women give me that I’ve grown used to. On her, though, it piques my interest, especially when the fire of fury fills her eyes. I love that she tries to stand up to me. She thinks it’s courageous, but all it does is turn me on.

“Do you plan to leave me locked up in here for the rest of my life with no clothes?” she snaps, returning to her former stance of defiance.

“Do you want to be locked up naked in here? You look comfortable sitting over there, and maybe I like the idea of having a naked woman in my room.”

“Find a different one. The blonde you were with the other day seemed eager to please,” she hisses.

Good comeback. I know she’s jealous of Gabriella. She shouldn’t be, but I like her jealousy. It makes her look prettier, and when her lips pout like that, I imagine them around my cock.

“Come here,” I say. She tenses.

“Why?”

“Fucking come here now, Princesca. If you make me get you, you won’t like it.” Or maybe she will.

Maybe another spanking is in order, although I hope the next time I do that, it will be more for pleasure than punishment. I think of how she yielded to me last night. My mouth waters. I want her just like that again, but next time, I want inside her.

She likes me. She likes me and doesn’t know what to do with the attraction that ripples between us any more than I do.

She gets off the window seat and makes her way over. She smells nice, just like yesterday. I know Priscilla got her some stuff. I’m glad she did. That sweetness compliments her natural fragrance.

When she reaches me, I hold out her dress. Her eyes widen when she realizes it’s hers.

“My dress. My things are here?” Her eyes search mine. I almost feel like a prick for depriving her.

“Yes. Your things are here.”

“Can I have them?” She raises her brows.

“Eventually.” I smile.

“Ugh.” Her shoulders slump. “Why? Why can’t I have them now? Do you know how weird that is?”

“There are a few things I need you to do for me.” It’s time to lay down the law.