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Cruel Prince: Chapter 2

DYLAN

“Your hair,” my aunt exclaims as she wraps me up in a hug the next morning. “I like it, but Royal Hearts won’t. I’m gonna see if I can book an emergency appointment with my salon girl today.”

Oakley peers up from the breakfast he’s currently wolfing down. “Told you.”

I shoot him a dirty look as my aunt squeezes me tighter.

“My goodness. I can’t get over how grown-up you are.”

Oakley grins. “Like a tall Smurf.”

I preferred it when he was passed out on the couch.

There’s a frown on my aunt’s face when we break apart. Like me and my mother—Crystal has pale blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and a freakishly fast metabolism that makes us appear to be in much better shape than we are.

She’s also disturbingly perceptive at times.

Her expression is careful, like she’s afraid I might break. “How are you holding up?”

I ignore the twinge in my chest. If I give in and break down now—I don’t stand a chance of making it through the next twelve months.

Falling apart won’t change the fact that my dad’s currently in jail for embezzling money from the multi-million-dollar company who employed him as their chief financial officer.

Because of my greedy stepmonster.

Because he didn’t want to lose her.

Because somewhere along the way, she became more important to him than me.

“I’m fine.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “A little tired from jet lag, but other than that, I’m totally cool.”

I’m positive my attempt to redirect her question was a failure, but fortunately my uncle waltzes in to save the day.

“Why does the basement smell like pot?”

Or not.

Wayne isn’t a big man, his son easily towers over him, but there’s something awfully intimidating about him.

Which probably explains why they call him a shark in the courtroom and he’s one of the top defense attorneys in the country.

All eyes turn to the prime suspect.

For a moment, I feel bad for him—but then I remember what a jerk he is.

Oakley shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth, no doubt buying himself a little time to answer.

I guess my cousin isn’t as dumb as he looks after all.

“I have no idea.” He shrugs innocently before gesturing to me. “I was at Christian’s all night. Blue stayed home.”

Yeah, I take that back. He’s dumber than a box of rocks. Not only for the awful nickname but for thinking my aunt would ever buy his insinuation.

“Yup,” I drawl, the sarcasm thick in my tone. “You got me. After I got off the plane and took an Uber here, I unpacked my bags and celebrated my new life by toking up in the basement.”

Oakley stands. “See?” He looks at my aunt and uncle. “You guys should be more cautious about who you invite to live here.”

My aunt rolls her eyes. “Dylan doesn’t do drugs.” Her gaze swivels to me. “Right?”

I nod. “Not really my thing.”

My uncle pinches the bridge of his nose. “Christ. We’ve talked about this, Oak. If you want to screw up your life, do it under your own roof, not mine.”

Cheech…or is it Chong? Puts his dish in the sink. “I’m not screwing up my life, Dad. For fuck’s sake, it’s legal here now.”

“Legal for adults, not teenagers.”

“I’m—”

“You turned seventeen a month ago,” my uncle Wayne yells so loud the windows rattle. “Consider this your one and only warning. Smoke that crap in my home again, I’m taking away everything I ever bought you and shipping your ass off to military school.”

Oakley looks genuinely nervous. Can’t say I blame him. Something tells me Wayne’s threat isn’t an idle one.

“Dad—”

“End of discussion.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument.

My aunt’s forehead creases. “Why did you take an Uber here?”

I’m about to throw Oakley a bone, but I don’t have the chance.

“Because your stepson was so high out of his mind, he probably forgot,” my uncle booms before he turns to me. “I apologize for the monumental screw-up my kid is, Dylan.”

Whoa. That’s a bit harsh.

Apparently, my aunt’s thinking the same thing because her expression softens. “Wayne—”

“Fuck this.” Before anyone can speak, Oakley grabs his keys off the kitchen table.

Wayne’s eyes narrow. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Jace’s,” Oakley bites out, brushing past his father. “If that’s all right with you, your highness.”

My stomach somersaults. Oakley’s friends with Jace? My Jace?

The timing is terrible, but I have to know.

“Jace Covington?” I all but squeak.

“None of your damn business, tattletale.” He pauses mid-step to glare at me. “Word of advice? Better gobble up your Wheaties tomorrow…because you just lost the only ally you had. Royal Hearts is gonna eat you alive.” He snickers tauntingly as he strides toward the door. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll tell Jace you asked about him.”


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