Dark Prince: An Age Gap, Forced Marriage Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)

“Lily, you seriously have the best gossip. How do you even keep up?” I chuckle, leaning back in my chair, completely engrossed in her storytelling.

Sitting in the sunroom two weeks later, the afternoon sun casting a warm, golden glow around us, I can’t help but feel at ease with Lily. She’s in the middle of dishing out the latest dirt, her tales a mix of the hilarious and the eyebrow-raising.

Lily grins, leaning closer as if she were sharing state secrets. “Oh, you know, walls talk, doors have ears, and I just happen to be at the right place at the right time. And apparently, the staff was all on the fence about you at first. New blood always gets the rumor mill churning.”

I’m not surprised, but still curious. “Yes? And what’s the word on the street now?” I ask, swirling my tea.

Her smile broadens, and it’s clear she’s pleased with the news she’s about to share. “Well, the tides have turned, Maura. Everyone’s pretty excited that you’re here. You’ve shaken things up in the best way possible.”

I’m reassured to hear that, more than she might realize. “That’s nice to know. I was a little worried I’d be the awkward new kid for a bit longer,” I admit, feeling a genuine smile spread across my face.

Lily laughs, her gaze conspiratorial. “Awkward? Far from it. And if anyone gives you a hard time, they’ll have to answer to me. I’ve got your back.”

Her declaration, half in jest and half dead serious makes me laugh out loud: “Thanks, Lily. It’s really nice to have you in my corner.”

Leaning forward, Lily’s eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief. “So, how are things going with the lord of the house?” she asks, her voice dripping with playful irony as she emphasizes the title.

Her question catches me off guard, and for a moment, I’m torn on how to answer. Talking about Luk behind his back feels like stepping into dangerous territory. Yet there’s a part of me, perhaps emboldened by the growing camaraderie between Lily and me, that wants to share, to give voice to the whirlwind of emotions I’ve been navigating alone.

Lily, sensing my hesitation, nudges me gently, her curiosity clear. “Come on, you can tell me. What’s he really like?”

I cave, a small sigh escaping me as I decide to open up. “Luk is… surprising,” I start, choosing my words carefully. “At first, he seemed so cold, so untouchable. But there’s this warmth, a kind of tenderness that I’ve started to see more of. It’s like catching glimpses of sunlight on a cloudy day.”

I pause, feeling both vulnerability and relief at sharing this insight. “And do you know what? I actually like it. I’m discovering a secret side of him that he doesn’t show to the world.”

Lily listens intently, a warm smile spreading across her face as I speak. Our intimate bubble is suddenly pierced by Svetlana, one of the service staff. She approaches with a respectful, albeit apologetic, demeanor. “I’m sorry for the interruption, Mrs. Ivanova, but you have a guest. Mrs. Sharon Halsey is here to see you.”

Hearing Sharon’s name sends a jolt of ice through my veins. She’s finally rid of me; what could she possibly want now?

Lily catches the immediate change in my expression, her own setting into a mask of concern. She’s nominally aware of the complex history between Sharon and me, the undercurrents of tension, and the potential for conflict. “Hey, you don’t have to meet with her if you don’t want to,” Lily says quickly, her voice low. “This is your house, and you don’t have to entertain anyone you don’t want to. That’s also the nice thing about having us around; we can keep away whomever you don’t want to see.”

I’m tempted by the offer, if only for a brief moment. The prospect of avoiding a confrontation with Sharon appeals to the part of me that’s still rattled by the mention of her name. But the part of me that’s been growing stronger and more determined since my wedding day knows that avoidance isn’t the answer.

“No,” I say, my voice firmer than I feel. “I need to meet with her. But thank you, Lily, really.”

“All right, but if you need anything, just holler. I’ll be around.”

I nod, grateful for her support, and take a deep breath, steeling myself for the encounter ahead.

Stepping into the parlor, my heart is pounding in my chest, anticipation and dread swirling within me. Sharon is waiting for me with that all-too-familiar syrupy smile plastered across her face. She’s dressed to the nines, as always, in something tight and clearly expensive.

Just one second in her presence and I’m already reminded of why I’m so grateful for my new life away from her. She was once a constant source of tension and manipulation, but that now feels like nothing more than a distant, unpleasant memory.

My stepmother doesn’t waste any time. She hurries over with a speed that belies her usual composure, wrapping me up in a hug that’s as bony and uncomfortable as I remember.

“Maura, darling, it’s so good to see you,” she coos, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

The hug, meant to convey warmth and affection, feels nothing short of performative. As she pulls back to appraise me, I’m reminded of the games and manipulations that Sharon plays all too well.

I don’t waste any time. “What are you doing here, Sharon?” My tone is direct, cutting through the niceties.

She feigns hurt, dramatically placing her hands over her heart. “Oh, Maura, you wound me. Can’t a mother check up on her daughter? Especially after such a whirlwind marriage and that dreadful attempt on your life.”

Her words are calculated, each one laced with pretend concern. It’s clear she’s playing a part, but the sincerity is as thin as the smile plastered on her face.

“Stepmother,” I correct her as I’ve done so many times before.

My eyes drift to Rory, stationed like a statue near the doorway. It’s enough to make me keep my guard up.

“I’m fine,” I reply, keeping my response curt and to the point. “Luk is handling the investigation into the assassination attempt.”

Sharon’s reaction is theatrical, almost comical, in its intensity. “Oh, that’s wonderful to hear!” she exclaims, a little too brightly, a little too eagerly. It’s hard to tell where her true feelings lie beneath the layers of her over-the-top performance.

Sensing the undercurrent of something unspoken, I decide it’s time to cut through the façade. “Sharon, let’s get to the point. What’s really on your mind? Why are you here?”

For a moment, she seems taken aback, her mask of overzealous concern slipping to reveal a glimmer of genuine emotion. It’s a rare glimpse into the real woman, not often seen beneath her usual drama.

She sighs with a hint of resignation. “All right, Maura. You’ve got me. I do have other reasons for wanting to see you beyond checking in on your well-being. I wanted to discuss the matter of the inheritance.”

I can’t help but snort at the mention of the inheritance; my patience is already wearing thin. “You mean the money from my father that you managed to squander? Or are we talking about my share, which, let me remind you, you have no claim to?”

The tension in the room spiked, the mention of money casting a long shadow over our conversation. It was clear that despite Sharon’s initial pretense of a familial visit, financial motives lurked beneath the surface, as they so often did with her.

Her demeanor shifted, her eyes narrowing as a wave of tense anger washed over her face. “Yes, I’ve used most of what your father left me,” she admits through gritted teeth. “But it was all in the service of keeping the family business afloat. You can’t possibly understand the sacrifices I’ve made.”

I can’t help but let out a sharp laugh at her justification. “No, I guess I didn’t realize Louboutins and Birkin bags were crucial to our day-to-day business operations,” I retort, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Her response is quick and bitter, suggesting I’ve struck a nerve. “Maintaining appearances is important, Maura, as much as you might scoff at the idea. It’s a part of the game we play; it’s necessary to ensure that our position and influence remain unchallenged.”

Sharon, seeing no way out, decides to lay her cards on the table. “I’ve burned through most of my share of the inheritance; it’s true,” she confesses, frustration and desperation etched in her voice. “And now, I need access to your portion to keep the Flanagan businesses above water.”

I cross my arms, her plea leaving me cold. The idea of her squandering her share on luxuries and now eyeing my money is infuriating.

She continues, her tone earnest, “Maura, you have to understand. I can’t just go out and get a loan. If our competitors—or worse, our enemies—catch even a whiff of our financial troubles, it’ll be like blood in the water.”

She pauses, looking me directly in the eyes. “There are other Irish families, powerful ones, waiting for a chance to snatch away everything the Flanagans have built in Chicago. Your father’s legacy, our family’s legacy, it’s all at risk.”

Her words, though self-serving, carry a weight of truth that I can’t entirely dismiss. The precarious position of the Flanagan enterprises isn’t news to me, but Sharon’s direct plea, admitting her failures and desperation, puts the situation in a stark light.

However, her words fall on deaf ears. I stand firm; my resolve is unshaken. “I’m not interested,” I assert, the newfound confidence in my voice surprising even me. “As far as I’m concerned, the Flanagan “legacy” as you call it, died with my father. And frankly, I’m more than happy to see it buried along with him.”

Sharon’s face contorts with frustration as she tries to sway me with more pleas of hopelessness, but I’m not having any of it.

“You can’t do this, Maura,” she says. “Think about your father; think about everything he worked for.”

I cut her off, my tone making it clear there was no room for negotiation. “The matter isn’t up for discussion,”

Turning away from her, I call out for Svetlana, who quickly arrives. “Svetlana, could you please bring two members of the security staff? It’s time we escort my stepmother and her bodyguard to the front door.”

Sharon looks taken aback, her schemes crumbling before her eyes. For the first time since her arrival, she’s speechless, realizing she can’t get her hooks into me any longer. As Svetlana nods and heads off to fetch the security staff, I feel a surge of empowerment.

Sensing the finality in the situation, my stepmother attempts to salvage some dignity. “There’ll be no need for security,” she says, her voice strained but composed. “Rory and I will leave without causing any trouble.”

“I certainly hope that’s the case,” I reply, watching her closely. Despite her acquiescence, there’s a sense of unfinished business lingering in the air.

As she and Rory make their way to the door, Sharon can’t resist throwing one last barb my way. She pauses, turning slightly to toss a cryptic comment at me. “I’ll be back, my dear. Just to make sure you’re being a good little wife,” she says with an ominous tone.

I watch silently as they leave, my gaze following them until they’ve left the mansion. Then, going upstairs to the second floor, I peer out the window, ensuring they’re really gone.

Seeing them leave, I can’t help but feel a surge of pride for standing my ground against Sharon. It was a confrontation I hadn’t anticipated, but in facing it head-on, I’d taken an important step in defining my independence and embracing my new life.

However, even as the taillights of her car fade into the distance, I know deep down that this isn’t the end. Her parting words, veiled in a sinister promise of return, infer that our paths will cross again. For now, though, I’ve shown that I won’t be easily intimidated or manipulated.