WHEN IGOR CAME BACK after escorting the girl out, the prince said idly, “She’s different, isn’t she?”
“In a good way, I believe.” Igor took his usual place, standing at the side of the prince.
Leaning back against his seat, the prince remarked, “She calls me ‘prince.’” While he was known as the Prince of Darkness, no one had really called him that to his face.
“Which you are one,” Igor pointed out.
He rolled his eyes. “Not by blood or appointment, and you know that.”
“The people on the island think differently.” When the prince had turned eighteen, he had received a posthumous bequest from Rodrigo amounting to millions of dollars, all of which he had used to build new infrastructure on the island he had grown up in as well as set up livelihood programs for victims of gang-related crime.
The prince shook his head. “I’m just giving back what was theirs from the start.”
“Not many others would.” Igor’s tone was unusually cynical, but both of them knew he spoke the truth. Seeing the prince’s expression turn grim, he changed the subject, saying, “I believe you’ve made the right decision with the girl.”
“Do you?” The prince’s tone was unreadable.
Igor nodded firmly. “I am certain it has not escaped your notice that the last five women we dismissed had all made the mistake of thinking you were in love with them.”
The prince let out an inelegant snort.
“Exactly, sir. Ms. Cornwall, however, is unlikely to do the same. After all, she is engaged to Mr. Grant Bennett—-”
“Who, according to you,” the prince interrupted in a lazy drawl, “is my opposite.”
“Your exact opposite, sir.”
The prince raised a brow. “Did you really need to emphasize that?”
The older man’s expression remained bland. “Ms. Cornwall has been fortunate enough to find herself a good man to love, and I believe that Mr. Bennett is equally fortunate to have someone like Ms. Cornwall as his fiancée. It would be a pity if her employment with us would cause problems in the relationship.”
“Is that your roundabout way of telling me,” the prince drawled, “I should keep my hands off her?”
“Your words, not mine, sir.”
The prince rolled his eyes. “She’s not my type, Igor.”
“I am overjoyed to hear that, sir.” But privately, Igor wasn’t so certain. After all, when the girl had answered back, the prince had neither reprimanded nor fired her, which he normally would have done. Instead, the younger man had almost…smiled.
A genuine smile, which Igor had only seen the prince doing in the company of his small circle of friends.
But with the women he took to bed?
FAWN CORNWALL, BROWN eyes trained dedicatedly on the floor she was mopping, hummed as loudly as she could inside her mind. It was the only way she could continue working and pretend that there wasn’t a couple having sex right next to her.
Seriously, God, what have I gotten into?
No wonder she had thought this job to be too good to be true. In the seven days she had been working for the prince, she had witnessed just about every level of immorality and depravity that there was, enough to ruin her for life.
Like yesterday, there had been that guy drinking the girl’s pee—-
Mentally shuddering, she cut the thought off while she unconsciously sought her engagement ring. Since necklaces were the only allowed form of jewelry, she had chosen to turn it into a pendant at work, and over time it had also become her sole source of solace and comfort.
Feeling its solid shape under her uniform made Fawn sigh quietly in relief. This ring reminded her that once she stepped out of the prince’s world, something reassuringly normal waited for her.
I love you, Grant, she thought feelingly.
And for her future with Grant, she had to do this.
When she was done mopping, the couple in the living room still wasn’t done having sex. Not wanting to accidentally see their naked forms, she kept her head down as she moved towards the hallway.
Behind her, the couple’s groans became louder.
Fawn mentally cringed. Was this supposed to be arousing? It was like living straight out of a porn film, and yet—-
She had heard from the other maids how they were hopelessly turned on by what they saw and heard at the prince’s parties.
So why did she feel differently?
Was something wrong with her?
Was there something she was missing—-
“That’s quite a frown you’ve there,” a voice drawled.
Her head jerked up, and Fawn saw to her horror that it was the prince, leaning against the doorway of his study.
How was it that he was here? Was it a billionaire thing that he was so scary good at hiding his footsteps?
When the prince raised a brow at her, Fawn realized she was still gaping at him. Turning red, she stammered, “G-good evening, prince.” Now please go, she thought desperately. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the prince, but he just felt too dangerous to her. Something inside of her seemed to set off the moment he was near, making her tingle all over.