AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I need a drink,” he said. As luck would have it, a waiter was just passing them with a tray of full glasses. It was Chablis, not Scotch, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
He grabbed one and downed it.
His father glared at him. “Watch your drinking here, son. This isn’t a rager in the Hollywood Hills where getting arrested is de rigueur.”
There were a lot of things Ryder could have said in response. He could, for instance, point out that the night being referenced, blown out of proportion by the tabloids, had in fact only involved a neighbor complaining about the noise, and no one had been arrested. Or he could remind Warren that he himself was the Prince who could least hold his liqueur, typically falling asleep after only a drink or two.
But after a moment’s consideration, Ryder decided the best course of action was to grab a glass of Burgundy from the next passing server and down that as well.
Warren shook his head. “I told you not to invite him, Cheryl. The boy can’t be controlled.”
That did it. “Maybe,” he spat, “that’s because I’m a grown man.”
Warren just looked him up and down before letting out a half snort.
“Warren . . .,” his mom scolded gently, but he knew that was all she would do.
Ryder drew a breath, ready to dress down his arrogant, dismissive, self-centered jerk of a—
“Ryder.” Vicky laid her hand on his arm. Her touch was warm and solid through his sleeve. It was weirdly grounding and disorienting, all at the same time. “I’d love to dance. Would you mind?”
He looked over at her and was lost in her eyes for a moment. There was so much there in the rich, glinting amber. No malice, but a firmness. And grown man or not, he found that he couldn’t say no to her.
* * *
Vicky led Ryder out to the center of the dance floor, as far as she could get him from his parents without making it obvious that that was what she was doing. The Princes had always been lovely to her, particularly Cheryl, but she knew their relationship with Ryder had been rocky for years.
She turned to face him, placing her hand on his shoulder. He took her other hand in his and pulled her in, positioning them for the waltz that was playing. He held her a little closer than was customary, but it was his eyes, nearly ebony and locked on hers, that made their stance feel intimate.
“I should thank you for rescuing me.”
She sighed. “They’re not so bad, you know.” She couldn’t help but feel that if he’d let them in a little, the relationship might offer him some of the warmth his life seemed to lack.
“Oh, no, they’re not bad at all to you, princess. But then, you’re not the devil, are you?”
She blinked back at him. He was so dark and bitter, hardened against the world the rest of his family lived in. And in that instant, she wondered if he did it by choice or because he felt he had no choice.
“Well, you aren’t eithe—”
“Less talk, more dance.” He grinned, whirling her around the floor so that her breath and her feet needed a few seconds to catch up, and she lost the thought entirely.
After a moment, though, she found her stride and felt almost giddy. Ryder was an amazing dancer. She had nearly forgotten.
“We haven’t danced like this in a long time, have we?” he said, as if reading her mind.
“No.”
Not in a very long time.
She doubted he remembered, but they had, in fact, only danced together one other time. It was summer, years ago. She was still in high school. Ryder was just about to drop out of college, not that she had known that, of course. Their families were at their summer homes, and they had both been dragged to some boring anniversary party or something (though how the Princes had managed to drag Ryder anywhere, even at that young age, she didn’t know.)
She and Noah had been good friends ever since their families had met, when they were both in seventh grade. But he was still away at boarding school then, due back that weekend.
So it was Ryder, the older, more mysterious Prince boy, who had asked her to dance. She had accepted, considering her other option was to sit on the sidelines and be bored out of her mind. And maybe, just maybe, she had been a little curious about Noah’s rebellious older brother.
She’d been shocked, she remembered, to discover he was an expert ballroom dancer. His mother, he explained with just a hint of contempt, had insisted. That made sense.
But she knew the magnetic, dangerous look in his eye had nothing to do with his mother. And when they were tired of dancing on the night, and he suggested they sneak off to take a walk on the beach, she’d been too curious to say no. Nothing had happened in the end, of course. At least nothing significant enough to keep her and Noah from becoming . . . her and Noah after that. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t understand Ryder’s appeal.
