Insatiable Park Avenue Prince (Park Avenue Princes Book 2)

“HAVE I MENTIONED you look good enough to eat?” Donovan’s voice was low in my ear, just loud enough for only me to hear—or so I thought.

“If we all have to ride together, the least you could do is not eat each other while I’m sitting right the fuck here,” Daire grumbled from where he sat on the other side of Donovan in the limo. He tugged at the neck of his all-black tuxedo, scowling like this was all nothing but an inconvenience.

“Speak for yourself. I’m here for the show if you’re offering.” East winked, the picture of elitist superiority as he stretched his arm out along the back of the seat where Gavin and Joey sat. I wondered how he managed to drink out of a martini glass in a moving vehicle without spilling anything.

Donovan met my eyes, grinning as he squeezed my thigh. God, he looked unbelievable, better than anyone had a right to, and I had no idea how I was going to get through the night if he kept staring and touching me.

Across from us, Gavin groaned. “This is the last time I’m riding with any of you.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” West said. “You and Joey could always put on a sex show for us. Give Van a taste of his own medicine.”

More than half of the group seemed to agree, shouting out encouragement to Gavin, while the handful of others, Donovan included, looked like they wanted to jump out of the limo.

I covered Donovan’s hand on my thigh with my own, drawing it up my leg as I leaned in to kiss his neck. He looked like he could use a distraction, and I’d take any advantage to get closer.

I let my lips linger against his skin as I breathed him in. The scent of his cologne was fresh and a little mysterious, just like the man himself.

“On second thought, maybe we don’t have to go,” Donovan said, tilting his head to give me more access.

“You’d be disowned,” someone said, maybe Travis? Preston? I couldn’t tell, not with my attention solely focused on Donovan.

“Is that true?” I murmured, nipping at his ear and not giving a shit who was watching. Well, hopefully Gavin had his eyes closed or had turned his attention to his own date, but that wasn’t my problem.

Donovan hummed low in his throat. “Probably. Worth it, though.”

Someone snorted just as the limo came to a stop, and Donovan’s eyes opened. He flipped his hand under mine to lace our fingers.

“You ready for the most ostentatious display of wealth you’ve ever seen?”

I opened my mouth to respond that it couldn’t be that bad, but my eyes caught on the exterior of the building we’d stopped outside of, and I shut up real fast.

“Shit.” That was all that came out, because where in the hell were we?

All Donovan had said was the event was for charity and would be taking place at the social club that his and his friends’ parents belonged to. The mandatory tux had tipped me off that it was fancier than my usual hangouts, but what I was looking at right now blew all of what I’d expected out of the water.

The white four-story building took up at least half the block, and spotlights lit up the massive façade, but it was the wrought-iron gates punctuated by thick columns that caught and held my attention. They were at least a couple of stories tall, separating the building from the mere mortals, with a courtyard just beyond it.

It looked like something out of a gilded old New York, and suddenly I wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into.

“Terrible, right?” Donovan said, grinning at me.

“Jesus Christ, Donovan, how rich are you?”

“Haven’t you heard what everyone calls them?” JT said as Scotty opened the door and the others began to file out. “The Park Avenue Princes.”

I blinked. “The what?”

JT smirked as West rolled his eyes. “Yeah, everyone at Astor calls them that. Because they own practically all of Manhattan. Or at least the Upper East Side.”

I raised a brow at Donovan. “Is that right?”

He shrugged, a smile playing on his lips, which told me everything I needed to know.

No wonder he’d been so adamant about wearing a damn mask. If this group found out what he was up to in his spare time, I couldn’t imagine they’d approve.

As the last of the group stepped out of the limo, Donovan started forward, but I tugged on his hand.

He looked back at me and frowned. “What is it?”

“I have no problem with any of this,” I said. “But is this a good idea? For you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not wearing a mask. It won’t be a secret who I am, and if even one person finds out, what does that mean for you?”

Donovan’s jaw tightened and he stepped forward, hovering over me. His fingers were firm as he took my chin in hand. “I don’t give a fuck.”

Then, to make his point, he brought his lips down on mine in a kiss that was anything but sweet. It was resolute, a fierce promise that he wanted me on his arm no matter what, and damn if that didn’t have my heart stopping and starting again.

I climbed out of the limo, and Donovan sidled in close to me, placing a palm on my chest. “You look so damn handsome.” He leaned back and gave me a thorough once-over. “Don’t even think about leaving my side tonight.”

I slipped my hand into his, and we made our way toward a—

Shit, was that a red carpet?

As though he sensed my moment of trepidation, Donovan tightened his fingers around mine as he flashed a beatific smile my way. Jesus, I’d do anything for that smile. He knew it, too, judging by the way he led me toward the line of photographers snapping photos of the elite turnout for tonight’s event.

Several of Donovan’s friends went ahead of us, East saluting the crowd with a half-full martini glass, no doubt living up to whatever reputation the press had bestowed upon his pompous ass. But I had to give him credit—he went all in with the rich upperclassman angle. One look at him in the classic tux with his prim and proper bow tie and you knew that smug smile belonged to someone who knew nothing but luxury.

Travis stood in front of us, grumbling something about the sleeves of his shirt under his jacket, and Donovan leaned forward to say, “Quit fiddling. You look hot. The velvet jacket is to die for.”

Travis glanced back at us, and I nodded. “He’s right. You look like a sexy rocker.”

“Oh yeah?” Travis’s lip curled as he looked between the two of us. “Just how sexy?”

“Not that sexy,” Donovan said, shoving him toward the red carpet. “You’re up.”

“Well, I am now. Thanks for that. It better not show in my photos.”

“Just go.” Donovan pointed, and Travis sauntered out, stopping in front of the signage for the charity and flashing a killer smolder. Cameras clicked, lights flashed, and funnily enough, the press treated Travis like the rock star he presented.

It was amazing what money could do. These guys were all students at college, and yet the town treated them like they were celebrities…or royalty.

What was that saying? Money talks? Apparently it also gossiped, and who created better gossip than seven rich guys who did what—and no doubt, who—they wanted, whenever they wanted. It was insane.

Travis was all cocky confidence as he turned to walk inside the gates, but then his feet faltered and his back stiffened. For a second I wondered if I was projecting my own nerves onto him, knowing we were up next, but when Donovan whispered, “Oh shit,” I knew I wasn’t imagining it.

“What’s wrong?” I said as Travis angled his head up and walked closer to the group of photographers. I spotted a guy on the sidelines in a slouchy beanie with a camera in his hand, glaring his way.

“That’s Caleb. They don’t, um, get along. Shit.” Donovan looked around as though searching for someone to come to Travis’s aid if things got out of hand, but all of his friends were already inside.

“Do you want me to go and make sure everything’s okay?” I looked to where heated words were being exchanged, and figured I could take on this Caleb guy if need be. I was a good few inches taller than both him and Travis.

“No.” Donovan shook his head. “God no. That’ll make it worse.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” I saw Caleb bring his camera back up, then Travis flipped him off as he turned and stormed inside the gates.

Donovan let out a breath, and I rubbed a hand along his lower back. “You ready?”

He nodded and took my hand, and anything other than him left my head as we stepped out in front of the cameras and lights flashed and questions were called.

“Donovan? Who are you wearing tonight?”

“Donovan? Who’s your date tonight?”

“Donovan? Look over here.”

It was weird that we were there for charity and yet that wasn’t once mentioned as we finished up the short step-and-repeat and then headed inside the gates, away from prying eyes.

“Sorry,” Donovan said as he led me toward the entrance of the grand old building. “I told you it would be ridiculous.”

“It’s fine, really. It’s just…a lot.”

“I know.” Donovan gave a rueful grin as the doors were pulled open for us. “And that’s only the beginning.”

“The beginning?” We stepped inside the Elysium, and as the doors shut behind us, we were left standing in an enormous hall with multicolored marble floors and walls, and a gold coffered ceiling that soared high overhead.

There were chandeliers casting a golden hue over the tables and chairs set up all around the hall, and elaborate floral centerpieces decorating each one. It was one of the most breathtaking things I’d ever seen, and I’d barely set foot in the place.

“Kelly?” Donovan’s voice snapped me out of my daze. “This way.”

I swallowed as I followed his lead, my eyes fixed on the grand double staircase north of the space. But before we even got to enter that area, it appeared we had to pass by some kind of welcome committee.

Several elegantly dressed men and women lined up greeting and shaking hands with attendees. Some even got kisses on cheeks as they said their hellos and then headed inside, and suddenly it really did feel like I was about to meet royalty.

As we waited our turn, I leaned down to whisper in Donovan’s ear, “Who are these people?”

“Oh, the head members of the club. Basically the parents of all the other guys, and the president.” He nodded toward the first guy in the line.

Wait, if these were the other guys’ parents, did that mean… “Are your parents here?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, they’re last in the lineup.”

“Holy shit, I’m meeting your parents?”

Donovan gave me a sheepish smile. “Did I not mention that? My bad. But don’t worry, they’re cool, I promise.

“You might be the only person to ever call his parents cool.”

“Nah, I just mean they’re not the type to look down their noses like a lot of these folks.”

I looked at the line of club members, easily picking out which parent belonged to which of the Park Avenue Princes. I couldn’t see Donovan’s parents yet, and I wondered which of them he looked more like.

“Donovan, good to see you.” The first man in the line was striking, and he couldn’t be older than his early forties. Impeccably groomed with dark blond hair, a chiseled jaw line, and a charming smile, he was attractive but somehow not at all what I expected the president of a social club like this to look like. Weren’t they supposed to be old guys with cigars and a permanent glass of bourbon in their hand?

“Thanks for having us,” Donovan said, shaking the man’s hand, and then he gestured to me. “This is my date, Kelly Sinclair. Kelly, this is the president of Elysium, Archer Carrington.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Archer’s grip was firm, but his smile was welcoming. Then again, it would have to be. Couldn’t have a grumpy ass in charge of a club like this, which meant Daire would never be up for the job.

I managed to bite back a laugh at that visual and smiled back at him. “You too.”

“Mr. Carrington is also Serena’s dad,” Donovan said.

That made sense. I couldn’t place which guy he looked like, but now that Donovan mentioned Serena, I could see a little of the resemblance between father and daughter.

We continued down the line, and it didn’t shock me one bit when East’s parents were every bit as arrogant as their son. Not rude, necessarily, just a little aloof. Meanwhile, West’s father was a delight, down to his French accent. I was hoping for a glimpse of Daire’s family, but Donovan said they traveled a lot and never showed up at these things. Maybe that was why Daire felt he had to? Hell, if it were me, I’d use that as an excuse to skip out.

Donovan reached down to squeeze my hand briefly before letting go, and as we came to the end of the line, I tried not to let the surprise show on my face. Because fuckin’ hell, he hadn’t mentioned who his parents were.

“Mom, Dad, this is Kelly,” he said, proudly turning toward me, and his mom’s smile as she looked my way lit up the room. Of course it would—she was a supermodel. Kimberly Thompson, who had long blond hair, a face even a twentysomething would be jealous of, and the same hazel eyes as Donovan. It never would’ve occurred to me that they could be related, especially with different last names, but he was the spitting image of her.

She didn’t shake my hand, instead putting her hands on my shoulders and kissing both cheeks in greeting.

“Wonderful to meet you, Kelly. Van couldn’t wait to introduce us.”

I wasn’t usually fazed by anyone, but the fact that she was Donovan’s mom had me feeling a little off-kilter. He could’ve warned me, but the sly look on his face told me he was enjoying this.

“Your son seems to like surprises,” I said pointedly, and she and the man beside her chuckled.

“I’m guessing he hasn’t told you about us in the same way.” She turned to the sophisticated man beside her. “Should we be offended?”

“We should,” he agreed, before winking at me and shaking my hand. “Arthur Truitt.”

“Great to meet you, sir.”

It wasn’t until I let go of his hand that the name niggled in the back of my brain, and I realized why. Wasn’t he the guy who owned CBS?

I put that tidbit of information in the back of my head to ask Donovan about when we were alone, and then made polite small talk with his parents. But I couldn’t remember what the hell was said, only that Donovan had reached out to lace his fingers with mine when I heard them ask what I did for a living.

“He’s in entertainment,” Donovan said, and then squeezed my hand. “We’re holding up the line. We’d better keep moving. We’ll find you later.”

After saying quick goodbyes, Donovan hauled our asses out of there, something I was grateful for, because meeting a lineup of parents was not my usual thing.

Once we were out of earshot, I let out a breath, and he did the same before laughing.

“Fun, right?” he said, pushing back the blond strands that had fallen over his forehead.

“You’re evil, I’ll give you that. You neglected to mention your parents are kind of famous.”

Donovan held his hands up. “I swear, it never even occurred to me you would know who they are. Besides, it’s not like I’m thinking of my family when I’m with you.”

“I would hope the fuck not,” I said. It took everything in me not to reach for him then, because the picture he made in that tux, his cheeks still tinged with pink from our interaction, was almost impossible to resist.

But this wasn’t the time or place to act on that desire.

“So,” Donovan said, one of his eyebrows kicking up. “Ready to grab a couple of drinks and join the real party?”