novelraw Chapter 159: Slap
Chapter 159: Slap
Chapter 158
Jack
Best friends my ass.
Trying to concentrate on work, and all that’s replaying in my head is their nasty shower kiss.
The way they kissed—slow and deep and completely oblivious to the fact that I was standing right there.
I wanted to join.
But I was having more fun watching.
Also, I’m a little frustrated. I mean, penetration isn’t a necessity for a healthy sex life, but man, I would really, really like to. Anyone, please. Doesn’t matter who.
I can’t exactly bring it up. What if I sound like a sex-starved asshole?
So much for having two lovers. You’d think I’d be getting twice the fun.
"Wow, you’re so tall," a child says, tugging at my sleeve.
I look down. Small girl, gap-toothed smile, pigtails slightly askew. She’s staring up at me like I’m a skyscraper.
I swoop her up and place her on my shoulder. She giggles, tiny hands clutching my hair. I’m accustomed to dealing with children—I have a son of my own.
"Higher!" she shrieks.
I bounce her up, catch her, settle her back on my shoulders. She laughs so hard she snorts.
Don’t these charity things ever end?
I’ve been Prince Jackson for months, but it seems never-ending. Old women’s homes. Animal shelters. Nonprofits. Galas. Today it’s a random school in a random district, and I’m standing in a gymnasium full of children who don’t care that I’m a prince. They just want to know why my hair is curly and if I can do a cartwheel.
(I cannot do a cartwheel. I tried. It was humiliating.)
The event coordinator is gesturing at me from across the room, probably signaling that it’s time for photos. I pretend not to see her.
"Your Highness?" A teacher appears at my elbow, nervous, twisting her hands. "The children have prepared a song. If you’re ready?"
I’m not ready. I’m never ready.
"Of course," I say, and set the girl down gently.
She pouts. "Again?"
"Later," I promise.
She scurries off to join her classmates, who are lining up in uneven rows, some of them still whispering and pointing at me. I smooth down my shirt, fix my smile, and prepare to look delighted for the next twenty minutes.
The song is off-key. The children are adorable. The teacher is crying.
I clap when it’s over. I shake hands. I let them take photos.
By the time I escape to the car, my face hurts from smiling.
Peter opens the door for me. I slide into the back seat and let my head fall against the headrest.
He starts the car.
"Have you looked into what I asked you?" I ask.
He leans forward and hands me an envelope. I take it, open it, and smile.
I look at the profiles.
I haven’t forgotten about the bastards. Even if I am a prince, I can’t just deal with them. Not directly. Not without cause, not without evidence, not without the kind of political fallout that would make Russell’s head spin.
But what if they weren’t dukes?
Now that changes the rhythm, doesn’t it.
I flip through the pages. Financial records. Property holdings. Connections to shell companies, to offshore accounts, to shipments that don’t appear on any official manifest. Peter is thorough. He’s always been thorough.
I stop on a familiar face.
Silver hair. Gray eyes. A smile that never reaches beyond his teeth.
Duke Sebastian Doraemon... Doraemont.
Except—
I look closer. The jaw is softer. The eyes are less cold. There’s a softness to this face that Sebastian’s has never possessed.
I glance at the name printed below the photograph.
Isaiah Doraemont.
A hidden brother. An illegitimate son.
He’s hidden away in a small town, in charge of a small supermarket. A manager. Someone who handles inventory and schedules and employee complaints while his father’s legitimate child inherits fortunes and titles and estates worth millions.
A little ruthless, aren’t they? The family is worth millions, and he’s a supermarket manager.
I study his face again. The same silver hair as Sebastian. The same gray eyes. But Isaiah’s eyes are tired. Worn. Like he’s given up on expecting anything from the world.
Well, dear unfortunate soul.
I’m your fairy godmother, and I shall move you from pauper to prince.
I close the envelope and slide it into my jacket pocket.
"Let’s start the plan," I say.
"Understood."
My first target: Sebastian.
Once Sebastian doesn’t have the protection of his position, I will make him pay for everything he has ever done to my sunshine.
*
I sit in the clinic as my blood is taken, but someone I didn’t expect to see walks through the door.
Charlie.
He’s in palace whites, a badge clipped to his chest, a clipboard in his hand. He looks up, sees me, and doesn’t even blink.
"Don’t look at me like that," he says.
Charlie sets his clipboard down and checks the label on my blood vial. "People usually do."
"Why are you here?"
"Because I’m qualified." He glances at me. "And because my aunt has connections. Same as everyone else in this palace."
"Ohhh, connections," I say, drawing the word out.
Charlie’s eyes narrow. "Stop it, Jack. You have no right to say that—YourHighness." He puts a hand on his hip, and the gesture is so familiar, so him, that I can’t help my smile.
"Congratulations," I say. "I’m proud of you."
The words come out before I can stop them. And I mean them. I actually mean them. He worked hard for his position.
Charlie blinks. Something flickers across his facesurprise, maybe. Or something softer.
"Thank you," he says, his voice quieter now. "We’ll come with your blood work results tomorrow."
"Of course." I stand up, rolling my sleeve back down,and leave the onsite palace clinic to see my beloved son and omega.
I don’t help the skip in my steps.
I’m going to see my family after all.
Life is good.
I push open the door to our wing.
Lanny’s laugh echoes from the living room—that high, squealing giggle that makes me want to give him the world.
I smile, rounding the corner, and spot Ciel standing by the window, his back to me, looking out at the garden.
I creep up behind him, quiet as I can, and wrap my arms around his waist.
"Hello, sunshine," I murmur against his ear.
He turns around.
And immediately slaps me across the face.
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