Page 35 of Dark Rebel's Mystery

Jasmine's good mood from the car ride faded as they approached the cabin.

It had felt good to clear the air between her and Max, but the truth was that singing with him had done a much better job at smoothing things out than his half-assed apology. He was a damn good singer, but he was bad with words.

Oh well, no one was perfect.

Except for her prince, who was everything she'd ever wanted in a mate and more, and knowing that her father would try to find fault in him put her in a combative mood before she even stepped foot in the cabin.

Ell-rom pulled out the teardrop translating device from his pocket and hung the string it was attached to around his neck. He was making good progress with his English studies, and he'd managed without the device on the flight, but he wasn't confident enough to face her father without it.

She should have thought to ask for translation earpieces for her father, but it was too late now. Besides, they were proprietarytechnology, and William might not have approved of letting her father use them.

"What is the name of the country I'm supposed to be the prince of?" Ell-rom asked, his fingers fidgeting with the device.

"It's a national secret," Max replied from beside them. "That way, you can avoid lying and messing things up because you have no clue what you're talking about."

"Got it." Ell-rom centered the device carefully on his chest.

Jasmine placed her hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. "My father is going to be unpleasant. Don't take it personally. That's how he is with everyone."

Except for the adopted sons that he adored. He was nicer to them than even to her stepmother. Maybe he was just a misogynist, and he only liked the company of men. That actually made sense since his favorite pastime activity was hunting with his buddies.

As they approached the front door, she was suddenly gripped by fear. Why hadn't her father come out to see who was driving up to his cabin?

There was nothing else around, so anyone arriving with a vehicle was coming to see him.

The sound of wheels on the gravel drive should have at least brought him to the window. What if something had happened to him? A stroke, a heart attack...

Despite their strained relationship, the thought of losing him sent panic through her chest. He was all the family she had left.

She rushed to the large plant pot by the door—empty as always except for some dirt—and tilted it slightly to retrieve the key hidden underneath. Her hands shook as she inserted it into the lock, but before she had a chance to turn it, the door swung open, and she found herself face to face with her father.

He wore a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants, his cheeks flushed in a way that suggested he'd been drinking. Relief flooded through her, quickly followed by tension.

"Jasmine? What are you doing here? I thought it was Ray." He frowned. "Didn't I tell you that I was using the cabin this week?" His tone carried the familiar note of disapproval.

She forced surprise into her voice. "It was this week? I thought it was the next one. Didn't you tell me that you were going the second week of the month?"

His lips twisted in that expression she knew all too well—the one that said she'd failed him yet again. "You've always had a knack for messing up dates and appointment times. You're such a scatterbrain. No wonder you couldn't apply yourself to anything other than acting."

As always, the words hit their mark. No matter how many times she told herself his opinion didn't matter and that her life choices had been the right ones for her, each criticism still cut deep.

Jasmine plastered on a smile. "Well, maybe it's a lucky coincidence. You get to meet my boyfriend." She turned to make the introductions. "Eli, this is my father, Boris. Dad, this is Eli." She gestured to Max and Brundar. "And these two gentlemen are Eli's bodyguards. Maximilian and Brundar."

Her father's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why do you need bodyguards?"

"Eli is a prince," she said, watching his reaction carefully. "And before you ask, I can't tell you of which country. He's traveling incognito."

"I thought he worked for that matchmaking company, Perfect Match." Her father's frown deepened, and she could see him searching for ways to find fault in her story.

Jasmine took a deep breath, lifting the paper bag she carried. "Let's go inside, and I'll explain. I brought a bottle of fine whiskey that I'm sure you'll enjoy."

The whiskey wasn't just a peace offering. It was part of her strategy. After a few drinks, her father was always more talkative and less guarded, and since he seemed to have already started on some, her job should be easier.

As they followed him inside, the familiar scent of the cabin sent a pang of nostalgia through her—wood smoke, old leather, and the lingering aroma of coffee. Nothing had changed since her childhood. The same worn furniture and the same faded photographs on the walls. She had a few fond memories of the place. Her father had had his better moments from time to time. When she was young, he still believed she would make something of herself. Make him proud.

"Still drinking Lagavulin?" she asked, pulling the bottle from the bag.

His eyes lit up at the sight of the expensive scotch. "I'm surprised you remember what I like."

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