Page 3 of Ruthless Prince

The eyes of most women in the room went wide and glazed over with adoration. If only theyknew…

Logan held up one palm. “I know I sound like a sappy bastard, but I’m serious. I genuinely feel as if Willow was always meant to be mine. It’s like some sort of contract was signed when she was born. A contract that made her mine and mine aloneforever.”

Asshole.He was really rubbing it in now. I wanted to take the mic and shove it right up his over-privilegedass.

He turned to me and grinned. Everyone else in the room saw it as a playful smile aimed at the love of his life, but I saw it for what it really was—a cold, malicious smirk aimed at his most despisedenemy.

“What a lovely speech!” my mother said, one hand flying to her chest in mock surprise and admiration. Chuck and Elizabeth nodded inagreement.

Logan slid an arm around me, pulling me closer. His eyes sparked with something lascivious, a dark perversion that made goosebumps break out over my skin. “Smile for the reporters, princess,” he muttered. “Show them how happy youare.”

For what felt like the millionth time this evening, I pasted on a bright grin as a hundred cameras flashed in our faces. What else could I do? There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. No one to helpme.

Logan’s speech might’ve been a total travesty aimed at hurting me, but he was right. When I was born, my life was signed over to the Thorne family, and now I belonged tohim.

Forever.

1

Willow

Ten weeksearlier

“Turnyour head a little to the left. Tilt your chin upward, and… that’s it!Perfect.”

When the photographer finally stepped back, I smiled politely. “Thankyou.”

My father murmured his thanks too, and we stepped away from the gold silk curtains we’d used as a backdrop for thephoto.

“I’m never going to get used to this,” I said. As I spoke, I nabbed a little seafood appetizer from the tray of a passing white-gloved waiter and popped it into mymouth.

Dad smiled gently. “It’s not like people didn’t photograph us when your mother wasVP.”

I swallowed my food and nodded. “I know. It’s just more now. A lotmore.”

“You’re America’s first daughter. What do youexpect?”

I laughed nervously. “I’m never going to get used to being called that,either.”

He ruffled my hair, and we fell into a comfortable silence as we gazed around the spacious East Room of the WhiteHouse.

The UK Prime Minister was in the country for a state visit, and my mother had thrown a ball in honor of his birthday; a gesture that had been very well-received in the media. Back when Theodore Rutherford Sr. was still president, relations between the US and UK hadn’t been too great, but Mom seemed to be doing a great job of smoothing thingsover.

The scent of perfume, scotch, and fine wine drifted through the air along with the sound of clinking silverware and the murmur of many voices. Guests wore floor-length gowns and tuxedos, and every priceless piece of jewelry in the Beltway was on display, glinting under the soft chandelierlights.

It was all a little tooperfect.

My mom had only been in office at the White House for five months, and I already hated these glitzy events. To get an invitation to one of them, a person needed to have political ties or vast amounts of money. Preferably both. Those who wound up attending always smiled and laughed like they were at any old party, but it was all glad-handing, sweet-talking political bullshit as they tried to push their agendas forward in either subtle or not-so-subtleways.

Tonight was no different. I’d already spotted at least three former Congressman-turned-lobbyists sleazing onto anyone who might take a bribe. I’d also overheard one of my mother’s senior advisors making veiled threats to a foreign diplomat, bright smile neverwavering.

“Your mother looks like she’s having fun, doesn’t she?” Dad said, nodding over at the grand piano. Mom was laughing and clapping her hands as the Prime Minister played an old show-tune with a goofy grin on his wrinkledface.

Mom actually hated piano music, but you’d never know it by the delighted expression currently painted on herface.

I gave my father a faint smile. “She’s been having fun since May. Being president was always herdream.”

“True. Damn shame about Rutherford, though. He was a greatman.”