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RORY WAS GOING TO DIE, AND her father would be right.
"Oh, shit!" Snow skidded past her. Fast—she was going too fast.
One of these days . . .
The slope of the Alpacian hill was too steep. Too sharp. The edge of her snowboard veered dangerously sideways, but the motion was unstable, unsteady—
You're going to break your neck.
Her father's voice. Chiding her.
Rory could feel the blood roaring in her ears, the heat of her sparking veins.
Fire—there was fire inside of her, pure fire, against the snow around her.
It wouldn't have taken Albert Einstein's wife to figure out this had been incredibly, monumentally, catastrophically stupid.
She had loved snowboarding since she was eleven.
Why—why—had the universe decided that now was the time for this?
One of these days, you're going to break your neck.
In the second before she hit the tree, Rory's life flashed in front of her eyes.
Growing up with Declan. Boarding school in Switzerland. Partying in Spain. Kissing Paris.
Paris.
Paris, with her burnished-gold curls.
Paris, with her soft, sweet mouth—the flavour of ground cinnamon and sugar.
Paris, who had whispered, I kind of, sort of, maybe love you.
Paris, who now hated her.
Don't think of her.
Rory lost control of the snowboard altogether.
Christmas was in six weeks. The Charity Ball was in seven days. And her birthday—her birthday was on New Year's Eve. She would turn twenty-three. She would finally be older than Declan had been when he died.
Maybe her father had been right.
Maybe this had been bound to happen.
The snow roared all around her, an eruption of brilliant, glittering white. Each groove on the tree became sharper, clearer—and in the instant, the heartbeat after she crashed, there was a sound.
A voice. Declan's voice.
You've done it this time.
And that terrified her—more than the way she slammed forward.
More than the rush, the dizzying sensation, of flying.
Even more than the sickening twist of her leg against the bark.
It terrified her, and she hated it. Maybe it should have been a revelation. Maybe she should have had a profound discovery, or a divine realization, or a miraculous vision of an angel, telling her to get her life in order and shape the fuck up.
YOU ARE READING
PLAYBOY PRINCESS (gxg) ✓
Romance"Kiss me, you royal idiot." Paris Young is a pediatrician in a children's hospital. Rory Preston is the notorious playboy princess, who is more than just a royal heir -- she's a royal pain in the ass. When a snowboarding accident leaves Rory with...
