Broken Prince: A New Adult Romance Novel by Aubrey Rose Read Free Book Online

sprung into his thoughts. "It's a different country, though. I know it can be hard to acclimate."
    Brynn sipped her tea before answering.
    "It's a great opportunity," she said finally. "I wouldn't want to miss out on that. And being in a different country isn't so bad. I'm learning more of the language."
    "That's wonderful," Eliot said. He sat back and looked out into the greenery of the forest. He knew it was a fantastic opportunity for Brynn. He would not ask her again. It was enough that she was not upset with him any more, that she had come to him and slept in his arms. He would not push her into anything.
    "You do need a haircut," Brynn said, reaching forward and tousling his hair, then smoothing it back.
    He leaned toward her and kissed her as he stood, sweeping her up out of the chair and into his arms.
    "Ohh!" She cried out softly as he pulled her into a tight embrace, his lips pressing against hers. Such sweet lips, such a sweet face that masked a keen intelligence. He loved her, he loved her, and at that moment he would do anything for her. As he broke the kiss his lips lingered on her cheek.
    "Come to dinner with me tonight," Eliot whispered. He could feel her smiling against his face, and his heart swelled.
    "Yes, of course," Brynn said.
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Brynn
    “Myths are the stories we tell ourselves to explain the world around us and within us.”
    Pamela Jaye Smith
    Did I want to stay in Hungary? I asked myself that question over and over again as I walked to the address Mark had given me. Budapest was beautiful, old stone buildings and so much history soaked into the ground. But now that summer had come and the streets were no longer white with snow, the city seemed dirtier. The heat was sometimes oppressive. And although I loved Eliot and living with him, I could not see myself making many friends here. Everybody was polite but also standoffish when I tried to make conversation. Part of that was my halting Hungarian, but another part of it was that I was an outsider, not one of them, and I could feel it.
    Crossing the street, I looked up at the large building where Csilla's family lived. The apartment was on the top floor, and when I entered the building the doorman waved me in. Seeing my hesitation, he asked me where I was going. I responded in halting Hungarian, and he led me back to an elevator, pressing the buzzer. A woman's voice answered, and he spoke to her rapidly; I could only make out a few words: "an American girl."
    "What do you want?" the woman's voice said in clear English. I realized she was speaking to me.
    "Mrs. Deveny? I...I'm Brynn Tomlin," I said. "Mark—uh, Mark from the Academy—he told me that I should talk to you. About my mom."
    There was a brief pause and then the elevator door buzzed open. The doorman waved me in. Inside there was only a single button. I pressed it and the doors closed, leaving me alone inside the elevator. The platform jerked upwards, and my stomach was left behind as the elevator rose rapidly up toward the top floor. Toward the answer to some of my questions. I had been waiting a long time for these answers, and now that I was so close I felt queasy.
    The elevator doors opened, and I stepped into the apartment—there was no hallway, just a place to leave my shoes at the doorway next to an expansive living room. The elevator doors closed behind me and I jumped as the machinery started up and left me alone in the middle of somebody's house. The sound of a television echoed through the apartment. How strange. A private elevator to an entire floor? I had never seen anything like it.
    "Ms. Tomlin? Come in," a voice called from around the corner. I slipped off my shoes and walked through the living room. Everything was neat and tidy. Expensive-looking paintings in gilded frames adorned the walls, and the carpet was so plush my toes sank into it as I walked in my socks.
    The kitchen was around the corner, and the lady who sat at the stool in front of the counter