Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

Bitch… she wouldn’t know that I couldn’t care less.

The hours pass. I can’t will myself to sleep. I keep thinking he’s with her. Or someone else. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s gorgeous. The kind of man to melt you with his arresting good looks and a face that Hollywood would pay millions for.

I don’t know what woman could resist him, or who wouldn’t react to him the way I do. Every girl I know would die if a man like that even spoke to them. And they’d be completely envious of me.

My mind tracks back to my first night here, how he touched me. My skin heats at the memory, and my pussy clenches with need.

I’m an idiot for thinking of this shit. I’m an idiot for not being strong enough to resist. Gorgeous as he is, the man is a monster. I shouldn’t feel anything for him.

What I should be thinking of is how I’m going to leave this place.

The door opens. I jump, startled. I was so lost in my thoughts that I never heard the key rattle.

I have the light turned down to an amber glow. It bathes over him as he walks into the room and locks the door behind him.

His eyes meet mine, and I straighten up on the bed.

&nbs

p; He’s shirtless again, just like this morning. Except he has a black towel slinked over his shoulder and his hair looks damp. Damp like he just took a shower, or like he was working out.

My gaze drifts down to his boxers and those long athletic legs, each muscular and, like his abs, covered with tattoos. I realize that the only parts of his body that I have seen that haven’t been inked are his face and neck. He doesn’t have any on his forearms either. It’s enough to carry the illusion that he has none when he’s wearing a dress shirt. Was that done on purpose?

My previous worries over him being with that woman are replaced by the icy fear that’s crawled right back inside me.

What does he want now? Is he ready to have his way with me? Jesus, I’m going crazy here not knowing what will happen next. I’m on edge from one minute to the next.

“What do you want?” I ask.

He tilts his head to the side and regards me with those piercing eyes. “Is it wrong for a man to want to spend the night with his bride-to-be?”

My breath hitches, and warmth flushes over my body. Tonight. It could be tonight. It could be now that he comes to claim me.

I’m not ready.

He sets the towel on the chair by the bed before he comes closer. The scent of musk and soap tickles my nose, confirming he just showered.

“Nice to see you in the bed,” he states, pressing one knee on the mattress, which sinks in from his weight.

“What do you want?” I ask again.

“Relax, I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” he answers. I feel silly that I must visibly look relieved at his words. “I’m sleeping in here tonight. We don’t see enough of each other.”

“I thought you might be occupied with someone else.” I want to ask about that woman and who she is to him, but I think better of it.

The corner of his mouth lifts, and a smile slides across his lips. “Don’t spy on me, Emelia. You might not always like what you see.”

My blood heats. “I wasn’t spying. I simply stared through the window, and there you were. With her.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Does she come here often?”

He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. “Be careful, Princesca. I may start thinking you’re jealous.”

“I have nothing to be jealous of,” I snap, answering too quickly. “You can be with whoever you want.”

“Really? And… you’d be okay with that?” He narrows his gaze and climbs fully onto the bed, studying me.