Page 7 of Bitter Prince

“Hello?” She waved her hand in front of my face and I took a step backward.

“No need to be unpleasant,” I snapped, needing to regain control of my senses after that strange flashback. I couldn’t explain what had just happened, but I wasn’t about to let a little girl throw me off the task that lay ahead. “Why don’t you thank me and then be on your way, or should I tell your father how you treat guests at your home?” It felt harsh to speak to her this way, but I needed to put some distance between us.

Her eyes narrowed in distaste, but they were still so fucking beautiful, it hurt to look at her. She glanced at her sister and signed something.

Phoenix signed in return, to which Reina answered, “Agreed,” making me wonder what exactly was being said. She grinned, revealing a mouthful of braces.

Phoenix and Reina turned their attention to me, and it was only then I noticed the startling similarities in their features. One had dark hair and the other was blonde, but other than that, they could pass for twins. Their resemblance to their mother, the late Hollywood actress that had taken the world by storm, was uncanny. I supposed it was a good thing—for them—that they didn’t take after their father.

Reina shifted on her feet, glancing behind me to my brother. “Who are you two?” she demanded to know. “Aside from jackasses, obviously.” So much for my gallant attempt to free her from the fence. This girl was definitely trouble.

She signed as she spoke for her sister’s benefit. Phoenix snickered, but quickly tamped it down.

Dante’s eyebrow shot up. No woman dared to speak to us that way. They all knew our last name and the danger that came along with it. But this girl was still a kid. Okay, maybe not a kid, but she couldn’t have been older than fifteen.

“I’m Amon,” I answered.

My brother gritted his teeth. “Dante.”

Reina and Phoenix rolled their eyes in perfect sync.

“Last name?” Reina questioned, her eyes darting back to the mansion that peeked out from behind the fence and surrounding trees. Her ballet flats tapped impatiently against the pavement. She still signed for her sister’s benefit. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”

This girl was something.

“Leone,” Dante answered, but I was unable to look away from the ray of sunshine staring at me.

Recognition flickered in her eyes. She took a step back, her eyes zeroed in on me.

“I know you,” she murmured, almost as if she were talking to herself. Did the girl remember the boys who’d taken the fall for the broken vase? She wrapped her hands around her waist, almost as if that same fear from all those years ago shot through her, but then she removed her hands and signed something to her sister. I assumed she was translating the whole conversation and continued signing as she uttered the next words. “I remember you. You and your brother saved us from your father,” she said softly.

Then, to my surprise, she took a step forward and hugged me, lifting her face up to mine. She smiled, her braces on full display while I stood awkwardly. Something about her innocent embrace cracked through the broken shell of my soul and threatened to expose the bitterness that had lingered for years now. I wasn’t a little prince anymore; I was the bitter prince.

Ironically enough, it was her father who gave me the nickname.

Phoenix put her hand on her sister’s shoulder and pulled her away from me. She signed something, and Reina nodded.

“We have to go,” Reina murmured, her expression darting between my brother and me.

“Your father won’t be happy about you two sneaking out,” Dante warned.

Reina smiled mischievously. “Only if he catches us.”

I watched my cinnamon girl leave, but not before she glanced over her shoulder, her deep ocean eyes meeting mine.

5

AMON, 20 YEARS OLD

At the end of the long driveway, lined with palm trees and blinking red cameras, Romero was waiting for us. It was strange that he didn’t know his daughters had snuck out of the house with how secure the property was.

Alert shot through me, but I ignored it. For now.

“The Leone brothers,” he said in greeting. “It’s just you two?”

He frowned, his eyes darting behind us. He and Father hadn’t spoken face-to-face in almost a decade, and they weren’t about to start now.

“Who else were you expecting?” I asked, shaking his hand.