The Dark Prince (The Dark Light Series)(64)

“Yes. It is rumored that they are responsible for the corruption of the Dark.” Dorian runs his hand through his sexy disheveled hair. “I’m not entirely sure how humans got ahold of this information, but I’m not surprised. Myths can easily reflect truth. I’ve been…out of the loop, so to speak, for the last twenty years. Apparently, changes have been made.”

Right. Dorian’s petrification was only reversed so he could hunt and kill me. Who knows what he awoke to find. “What do you think this means?”

Dorian shrugs. “I can’t say. There’s been a breach, that’s for sure. Whether or not it was intentional is the question.” I can see the subject has aged him, his brow furrowed in deliberation. I smile at him brightly and plant a kiss on his soft lips, hoping to restore his pleasant mood. It works. “Get dressed. I’m going to take you to work then I have some business to attend to. I’ll be back in time to take you to lunch.”

Business at Cashmere is steady, and I happily jump into helping customers and rearranging displays, a welcomed change from my melancholy demeanor in the past days. Once it slows a bit, I take a moment to peruse the racks for something hot to wear for Carlos’s birthday party later tonight. I had totally forgotten about it until Morgan mentioned it over coffee this morning. She, too, seemed oddly chipper, indicating that her date the evening before was successful. I wanted to ask her who the mystery man was but didn’t want to put her on the spot in front of Dorian. Before I can think too much about it or complete my search for a dress, Carmen asks me to sign for a delivery.

“It’s addressed to you,” she says, observing the black jacquard box adorned with an elaborate red bow.

I shrug my shoulders and take the small package back to my office to inspect. Probably a few sample pieces from a new designer who wants a little extra credit for flair. After I’ve successfully unraveled the bow and open the box, I find something else entirely. An all-white jeweled string bikini sits amidst a sea of black tissue paper. It’s absolutely gorgeous, yet I already knew that it would be. I’ve worn this bikini before. In my dream. The dream the Dark King gave me.

Resting on top of the sexy swimwear is a white note card. I take a deep breath and turn it over to read.

The lotus flower- a symbol of sacred beauty through adversity. Purity. Rebirth.

Congratulations on embracing the true goddess within you.

-Stavros

“How very convenient,” a voice mutters from behind me.

I spin around, clutching my chest, the note still gripped tightly in my hand. “Dorian!” I shriek. “When did you get here?” He obviously didn’t come through the door.

He holds his hand out, requesting the notecard and ignoring my question. I look back down at it, contemplating scrapping it to save us the drama but reluctantly hand it over. Dorian studies it with an unreadable expression, showing no signs of discontent or irritation. The momentary flash of his crystal blue eyes is the only sign of reaction at all. He sets the card on the desk then mutters something in Greek, ‘Stavros’ being the only word I’m able to decipher in his heavy accent. Even in this heated moment, it arouses me fiercely.

“Your father?” I finally mumble after a few tense moments of silence. Dorian’s eyes meet mine, and I receive the answer to my question, his irises icy and cold with ire. Crap. Can we go one day without him losing his shit about something?

I force a stiff smile of reassurance. “I’ll get rid of it. Not my style anyway.”

“No. It was a gift,” he mutters. “You should keep it. It would look incredible on you.” His cool hand strokes my cheek delicately. He’s trying desperately to reel in his anger.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I do feel like I should send him a thank you note though. Do you know where I could send it?”

Dorian’s brow furrows a bit, unable to mask his surprise and confusion. Then something else reads across his beautiful face. Resignation. He nods in defeat.

“Good!” I beam. I pull out a sheet of stationary and begin to fashion my letter of gratitude to Dorian’s persistently vile father.

Stavros,

Thank you for the swimsuit; it is beautiful. However, I can’t and won’t accept gifts from you or anyone else. I am pretty crazy in love with your son, Dorian. Him and only him. And there is nothing that you could ever give me that I don’t already have in him. So please, don’t waste your money or your time.

Sincerely,

Gabriella

I fold the piece of paper in half and place it in the box followed by the elaborate box top. “Please be sure he gets this,” I say handing it over to Dorian, who looks somewhat bemused.