Corrupt Prince by Ivy Mason

Seven

I heardthe pounding of footsteps and jumped off the bed, rushing to the corner of the room. As soon as it opened, I pounced, landing on someone’s back.

Within seconds, I was shoved against the wall, a gun to my head, with emotionless eyes boring into mine.

My tongue darted out, wetting suddenly dry lips, my hand going to the one on my throat.

“Paranoid much?" I tried to grin at Coulter playfully, ignoring the barrel pressed to my forehead. But I didn’t look away from his eyes, showing no fear, though the pulse at my throat hammered in a panic.

His eyes, that beautiful golden color, were so cold. Hard.

Like a dead star.

He relaxed and tucked his gun back into his pants, but he kept his hand on my throat, stepping closer to me. "Don't ever do that again.”

"If you were all that good of a guard, you would know that there's no one else in here but me."

His gaze darkened. “I’m not a guard."

I reached forward, my finger grazing his cheekbone. "I know, you're a prince, and just as much a prisoner as I am."

I'd thought of his words the other night, about how his father had had his mother killed, and what it must've been like growing up with a father like that.

I'd decided to have a little bit of compassion.

His eyes grew even stonier, if possible. “I’m not a prisoner, so get any pretty thoughts about me being caught up in something I don’t want to be a part of out of your head. I'm not your friend, and you being here means nothing to me. I'm following orders, that's it."

“Whatever you say, Prince Charming," I purred, stroking his wrist with my thumb.

He stepped back, letting me go, putting space between us as he took in the room, which I'd cleaned in my effort to behave better. “You cleaned.”

“You’re observant.” I huffed. “Why are you here, then, if you don't care about me?"

“I’m making sure my little nightmare captive is still here."

I frowned, hating his cocky grin. "You already knew that, Marisol was just in here, talking my ear off.”

"You're right. She told me you cleaned your mess.” He nodded his head at the room. “You kept up with your end up the deal. I’m here to keep up with mine.”

“What’s that mean?” I tilted my head to study him, trying to smother the hope planting itself into my chest like a seed trying to take root.

“I’m taking you out.”

"Really?!" It was too late. Hope filled my chest, digging itself into my heart and shooting out roots. Overjoyed, I jumped into his arms, unable to stop myself. Surprisingly, he caught me, and didn’t let go. I wrapped my legs around his waist and leaned back to look into his face, grinning. "You're going to take me to see Rose?”

He frowned and shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“But—“ I tried to protest.

“You have to earn more of my trust to see your sister.”

I studied those golden eyes, feeling the heat of my attraction for him flush up my chest. Once again, I was overwhelmed with his smell, the mop of his gorgeous hair, the sadness in his eyes, despite his words.

I was a sucker for tortured men; I understood them much more than I wanted to.

Scowling, I grit my teeth, forcing down any kind of affection for the man. I didn’t like this prick. And I shouldn’t be so happy he was taking me out of the room.

I wasn’t a Stockholm victim.

“All right,” I responded simply, not wanting to give an inch, though I wasn’t stupid. He had all the power and I knew it. I thrust my hand upwards, like a knight commanding her army. “Take me out and let’s see what happens.”

He sighed, shaking his head, then set me on my feet. “First, I have conditions.”

I frowned. "What conditions?”

Letting go of my waist, he pulled something out of his pocket, and my scowl deepened. "I'm not wearing that."

"If you want out of this house, you'll have to wear it. Plus, you'll have to hide in the back seat.”

I jerked the black , silk-lined bag from his fingers and put it over my own head, hating it. At least it smelled nice. "And how am I supposed to walk with this thing over my head?”

"You're not." Grabbing my hips, he jerked me off my feet and threw me over his shoulder. "And don't say a word, or I'll lock you up in the basement."

* * *

The last timeI'd been this mortified was when I had to sneak back into the house after losing my virginity to Jose Varga at the awesome age of sixteen.

It'd been out in the barn, and my hair was full of hay, my clothes tussled, my inner thighs sticky with his come. My embarrassment and disappointment marked my face as I'd scurried in through the back entrance, sneaking down the hallways and past my Papa's room.

Since then, sex had become much better than Jose’s clumsy attempts to deflower me, but I'd never forgotten the shame I'd felt, hiding that from my Papa.

And now, I was scrunched down into the back of Coulter's back seat, the sound of his loud engine roaring in my ears. Coulter drove a sleek, black refurbished 1970 Remi Cuda, the updates so new, the leather seats still had that new car smell.

I'd yanked the bag off my face, thinking it ridiculous, but I was quiet as we'd left through the gates of his house and onto the busy Las Vegas streets.

After several minutes, Coulter parked the car but he didn't move, just stared out the front window, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about.

The sounds from the busy city were muted—we were at the back end of a parking deck, and the silence seemed to stretch forever.

"If you're not quiet, I will have to force you to do something you're not going to like." His startling, cold words sent a shiver up my spine and an angry outburst from my mouth.

“I didn't even make a peep. Not even after we left your house.”

"You were good the whole way here, and that's the only reason I’m trusting you now.” He still didn't look at me. "But this is your warning. If you try to run off, or misbehave in any way, you're not going to like the repercussions."

I struggled to squeeze myself out from the floor of the back seat, until finally, I could sit up enough to stare at his profile.

He really was a beautiful man. His features sharp, perfectly carved like an Adonis statue or a di Vinci.

One of those pieces of art that stole your breath the minute you looked at it. And if you stared at it for too long, your chest began to ache with a longing that would never go away. Yet, you continued to stare, wishing you could will it into existence, into a living, breathing creature.

"Where are we?”

He finally turned, his sharp profile becoming 3D, melding before my very eyes. And yet, his gaze was still harsh, his eyes flat and emotionless. "Somewhere you're not going to like."

It was like pressing my face against the side of an ice statue, staring into those eyes. Goosebumps skirted up my arms and prickled the hair at the back of my neck. “Then why did you bring me here?”

"So that you'll exactly understand your situation. My father has kept you in the house, treated you fairly well. That’s because Rose and Bourbon insisted on it. But I need you to know, Aster, my father is not a nice man, and the sooner you know this, the better off your life will be."

My throat was suddenly full. "And are you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Am I what?"

"A nice man?"

His eyes lowered from mine to take in my face. They lingered over my hair and cheekbones, to my nose, then landed on my lips. "No."

“Then why should I do what you ask?"

"Because, my little nightmare," his voice was mocking as he leaned in, and his scent trailed over me like silk, caressing my senses. "You want to."

I frowned, suddenly realizing that I'd tilted my face towards him, my whole body responding as if silently begging him to touch me. There was an amusement in his eyes, and a cockiness to his gaze that said he knew exactly how much I wanted to do what he asked.

"You wish, Prince Charming.” Pushing the passenger seat down, I jerked the door open. I crawled out, awkward and clumsy, wishing his car wasn’t so cramped. When I was finally free, I straightened, flipping my hair back. “Now, show me what a terrible man your father is.” I spoke with a dry sarcasm but my stomach twisted, having the feeling that I wasn’t going to like what he showed me.

Shaking his head, he chuckled under his breath and slid smoothly out his own door. I met him by his door, and he lightly placed the palm of his hand on the small off my back, guiding me through the parking deck to a side door of the building. A tall, Hispanic-looking man was standing guard outside it and Coulter approached him.

"Carlos. You didn't see her, you understand?"

Carlos only nodded once before staring behind us, ignoring us as Coulter used his key card to open the door. Grabbing my wrist, he led me down several dimly lit hallways until we entered a small room.

He didn't turn the light on, but he didn't need to for me to see a few monitors set up on a large, cheap-looking table.

They were already on and, after gesturing for me to sit, I saw that we were looking through a video feed.

The screens were focused on busy hallways, people at gambling tables, and also private rooms filled with people playing more intimate games. "Shouldn't security be here?” I asked him.

He waved me off. “There's additional security upstairs."

"What are we here for, then?"

"Patience, little nightmare." Reaching forward, he flipped on a new screen. "Scoot over."

The screen was slow to warm up, then it took a moment for me to understand what I was seeing, but when I did, I inhaled a sharp breath, my hand going to my mouth. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Depends on what you think it is.” He was doing that thing where he wasn’t looking at me again. Instead, he focused on the screen, a dull look in his eyes.

There was a room full of people and it looked like a full on orgy was happening. Except, it wasn't what I would consider a normal orgy.

There was blood everywhere.

Though the room was dimly lit, I could see it sparkle. On the floor, in the clothing, in people's hair.

Women far outnumbered the men, and my stomach churned with the cuffs and chains wrapped around their wrists and ankles. There were some women on their hands and knees, with a dick in their mouth and another in their ass. There were also whips involved, as well as knives.

I caught the look on one of the women's face, and even from my safe place perched behind the screen, I could see the deadness in her eyes.

These women were not here willingly.

There was also a man in the center of the room, tied to a chair. Black liquid spilled from his neck, staining his shirt. He was slumped over. If he wasn't dead now, he would be soon.

“I didn't know it was going to be this bad." Coulter's voice had an edge to it, and disgust etched his perfect features, revealing genuine emotion. “I’m sorry I brought you here.”

I was taken back by his apology. I pointed to the man tied to the chair, not knowing how to react to it. "Who is that?"

He frowned. "That's Mark Williams. He used to work for us."

"Did you know they were going to kill him?"

He faced me. "I told you, Aster. I'm not a good man. This man stole from my father, and no one does that and lives."

I met his eyes with a determined gaze. "I will never let you take advantage of me that way." I gestured to the screen with my hand. "I will kill myself before anyone fucks me like that."

His hand snapped out and he grabbed my wrist again, this time, digging his fingers in so that his nails bit into my skin. His eyes were fiercely intense. "I will never let anyone use you like that."

"But those girls, how can you let them--"

"I can't help those girls. But I can help you, Aster. I swear I didn't know it was going to be like this.” He straightened, his hand still clinched on my wrist. “But I did know it was going to be bad. I needed you to see this because, if you continue to fight me, then it will make it that much harder for me to protect you."

“And will you? Protect me?"

His eyes held mine. "I swear that I'll protect you, Aster. Even if I have to kill my own father to do it."

"But why?" I suddenly felt weak and useless. "Why are you protecting me?"

"Because." His throat bobbed, and his thumb brushed over my wrist. Softly, almost absentmindedly, but it sent my heart racing. "I couldn't help your sister when she needed it, and I swore I would never do that again."

"Rose?" I was suddenly panicked. "Is she okay? What's happening—”

"Not Rose." His voice was suddenly a dark growl. "Your other sister."

My heart pounded in my chest and the pure vitriol he exuded. Now I saw everything, the spectrum of emotions he'd been holding back. Pain. Rage. Anger. Passion.

"Lily." My throat was dry. I'd met her when I was really little and didn't remember much about her. I hadn't even known she was my sister when I met her.

He nodded.

"What happened to her?"

His gaze darkened. "She's dead. And I’m going to kill the man who killed her."

"Who is that?"

Coulter leaned in. “Aster, do you understand now that if you continue to fight me, my father might try to make you become like one of those women?" His fingers on my wrist were digging into it harshly. "If you fight me, I will still protect you, because that's a promise I’ve made to Rose. But you need to help me help you.”

I remembered the dead look on that girl’s face. The blood running from that man’s throat. The dead look in Coulter’s eyes in the car.

Could I truly trust him? What if he turned on me, too?

He said he made a promise to Rose, but what if it was just a manipulation to make his life easier?

“Are you going to help me escape?”

“There is no escape for you, now. The quicker you learn this, the easier it will be for you to accept it.”

“But. Why?”

“What do you know about your parents? Do you know the truth about your heritage?”

I nodded. “I’m from Russia, the mafia. My Papa told me—after Lily died…”

“You’ve lived a good life, Aster. Your childhood was free and innocent. But my father drug you back into this world, and now, you’ll never get out of it.”

“But,” I stared into his eyes, wishing his grip on my wrist wasn’t so tight. It felt like shackles, suffocating and smothering. “What if I don’t want to be in this world?”

“Do any of us?”

The room was silent, closing in on me even more.

“Why then, why keep me safe?”

“I told you. I made a promise to Rose. Besides, the faster you’re out of my hair, the easier it'll be to get what I want."

Out of his hair.Like a piece of lint. Or hay, annoying and telling of something dirty. “Which is what?”

“Revenge."

The coldness was back in his gaze, and I had no doubt that 'revenge' meant murder.

His ability to switch his emotions on and off at the flip of a switch had my stomach churning. I couldn’t trust this man.

"I need to see Rose."

He suddenly let me go, sighing, and ran his hand through his golden hair. When he released his hand, a lock of hair was in his face.

I wanted to reach up and brush it away. There was a sadness in his eyes that made me want to feel bad for him.

Again, I was switching on and off from feeling compassionate to feeling mistrust, and it was driving me crazy.

Where I'd come from, I knew my place in the world and how to exist in it.

Here, I was torn between my natural inclination to care, and the need to survive.

"Aster, I promise you that Rose is happy."

"I don’t believe you. I need to see it with my own eyes."

"You will see her at her wedding."

"Her wedding? That's too late. What if she wants to escape?”

"Trust me, she wants to marry my brother."

“I can’t trust you. Not until I see with my own eyes.”

“Fine.” He stood up, looming over me like a dark shadow. “If you help me, then I will take you to your sister.”

I jumped to my feet, meeting his gaze. “Before her wedding?”

“Before her wedding.” He held out his hand, and I took it, shaking it, feeling like I was making a promise to the devil to save my sister.

If I’d only known how much it was the truth.