by C R Riley
As soon as the last of the older crowd leaves my mother reminds us to remember that everyone is watching us. We need to keep in mind that even though we are young and allowed to have our fun as much as anyone else, we are not just anyone. There are those who are taking notes and there are those who are hoping to get their claws in us. She wants us to have fun of course, but not so much fun that come morning we end up with a few regrets.
Last, she reminds us to look out for Gabriela. Since this is her first party it is likely she may get caught up in the celebrations. It is our job as her brothers to make sure no one takes advantage to use this against her one day. It’s basically the same speech I have gotten since this all started.
The heavy doors close behind her as I reach up and remove the medallion around my neck as well as my jacket. I pass them off to one of the footmen. My brothers do the same. Then I loosen a few buttons on my shirt so that I can actually breathe again before removing my cufflinks allowing me to, I roll up my sleeves.
Once I am as comfortable as I can get, I take Larkin’s hand in mine and wait for my brothers to signal they are ready. Esteban links arms with Gabriela so he can escort her properly. I can see him offering her some encouraging words and probably some subtle reminders as well. They are close and she will take all that better from him than me.
When he is finished, he looks up and verbalizes, “Well, what are we waiting for? A beber y a tragar, que el mundo se va a acabar.”
Larkin lets out a very nervous laugh. “Sorry. What was that?”
“Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” We all say in unison with great expression.
The doors open in front of us and we pause momentarily as we line up like we have done so many times before. I glance down at my brothers and nod.
Lorenzo does a visible count down for us and right before we enter the room we yell. “Santiago!!”
Chapter 11
Larkin
I am on the verge of freaking out all over again. Everything about tonight has put me on edge and one little push will send me tumbling.
Anxiety is a real thing in case you had your doubts. It can make people do all sorts of unusual things.
My standard reaction is to babble uncontrollably until I simply run out of things to say. It can take hours by the way for me to run out. I may eventually stop verbalizing to those around me, but I continue blabbing softy to myself long afterwards.
It hasn’t been any different tonight really. I just have gotten really good at talking to myself without actually moving my mouth or using my voice. Sort of like a ventriloquist, except I don’t let my voice make any noise while doing it.
It was easy to screen during dinner. Sipping on my soup, which I learned was called caldo galego, made it fairly easy. I could pretend I was blowing on the hot spoon, when in reality I was mumbling.
When the appetizers—that reminded me of crawdads—gamgas al ajillo arrived; I simply stared at it for a moment. These black beady eyes were peering up at me amongst the steamy spices and lemons. I sat there for a moment, not really sure how to tackle it. That is when Angela tenderly encouraged me to give it a try and then displayed the proper way of eating it. Which is when I discovered, after my first taste, it was basically shrimp with the heads still attached. Why they left them on I had no idea, personally I preferred my shrimp headless.
The main course came after a traditional salad with sweet vinaigrette dressing on the side. It was duck glazed in honey, served with figs—probably my favorite course. I had never tasted duck or figs and after my first bite decided I needed to eat this more often.
Then came dessert which was flan, otherwise known as custard with caramel sauce poured over it. I am not a fan of custard, but I didn’t want to be rude so I took a few bites, commented on how delicious it was, and then dropped my fork like I just couldn’t possibly eat another bite. That was probably because I couldn’t, unless I wanted to make an even bigger scene by gagging.
All the chatting during the meal had helped keep me from melting down again.
I still can’t believe I did that.
It has been years since I had a public reaction like that one. I could usually hold myself together until I was alone, in a safe environment, before letting go. The only other person who had seen one of my disturbing rambling messy freak-outs, besides my parents, was Randal. He had laughed so hard that first time I started in that he ended up as a human ball rolling around on my floor. It hadn’t stopped my rant, but it had eased the embarrassment and even had me snickering while I continued.
I really miss him.
I nearly had a second one when Lady Dalia made her approach, just so she could poke Antonio with her words. The tension that radiated between them was thick and could probably be cut with a knife. His desire to protect me, by granting me a title, was both flattering and disturbing.
Flattering because he wanted everyone to see me the way he saw me, as his equal—or at least worthy of being seated next to him, since really no one here was equal to the King. No one had done that for me before. My status wasn’t an issue in the U.S. really. I dated who I wanted to date based on attraction, not because of their net worth, social status or how high they sat on the food chain. Some of my best dates had been with construction workers I meet on the job. They were always exactly who they were, never trying to sell themselves as something better.
I guess that is what was disturbing about it. I didn’t like the fact that Antonio felt I needed a title to compete with Lady Dalia, who I have learned since is the daughter of Justice Ivan Batista, one of the five main justices in this country appointed by the King and the King’s Council. It was as if he was trying to sell me as being worthy, instead of considering me worthy just the way I was.
So maybe that had me wondering if that was the case really. Was I good enough as Larkin Moon Cross an architect from Chicago, Illinois, daughter of a drug addict, who overdosed when I was a baby? Adopted into a family that happened to give me what he considered worthy status, because of the jobs they did and not who they actually were. If you stripped them down to the people they were, would I still be worthy, or would I just be another woman lost at sea?
The last couple of hours had been exasperating all the way around. Being dragged around by the most powerful man in this country was fascinating and educational. I learned a lot about how things worked here, not really all the differently from back home.
I also began to understand how important it was that Antonio marry and produce an heir. If he never married then his brother Esteban and his offspring became next in line. That had never been put into action since Hermosa Islas was established in the early sixteen hundreds. Each one of their leaders had married and passed the torch on to their first-born child. The Sovereigns had all married spouses that were chosen for them by their father’s and held some kind of noble heritage, be it firsthand or distant. None of them had dared to marry outside of the approved class, meaning none of them had married a commoner. While it wasn’t officially penned that a King/Queen was not permitted to marry below a particular social class, it was an unspoken decree.
Antonio had rolled his eyes several times whenever someone brought that up. Mentioned about how it was probably time for all that to change then. Went on to remind them that he did not need their permission when it came to selecting the woman he decided to marry. He made it very clear that he was retaining control over his love life and would not be goaded into feeling guilty about not doing things the way they had always been executed. Last he pointed out that up until him, no king had ever maintained his bachelor status when he inherited the throne either. That seemed to shut them up quickly, and he always walked away afterwards with his head held high.
By the time we are ready to join the after party in the dining hall—that is after the four of them had howled at the top of their lungs to something that sounded like a battle cry—it had been transformed to look like a classy nightclub. Most of the guest have already made thei
r way inside and were standing around socializing while they waited for their hosts to arrive.
The door seals behind us, and the music starts pounding almost instantly. Antonio grabs hold of my hand and tows me across the room to the dance floor.
I really am not much of a dancer, never really dared to attempt a place like this. Thankfully it’s mostly dark in here, so no one will really be able to see us or me. They won’t be able to watch me when I most likely have another panic attack, and this time pass out right here in the middle of the dance floor.
I am however relieved to see he doesn’t pull me onto the very crowed dance floor. Instead we make our way towards a secured roped off area. There are fewer people waiting inside of it, none of them are anyone I recognize.
Gabriela seems to know about half of them. They immediately flock to her and drag her over to join them. For the first time all night I notice her relax as if the people she is with right now make her feel safe.
I’ve never had that before. Okay not true entirely I guess, I had one person that I felt like I could let my hair down around. That person has been gone for five years now, so seeing her shed her protective layer and let loose makes me really start to miss him. And I hate that I am even thinking about him right now when I am here to have a good time.
“Hey.” Antonio places his hands on my hips and I catch myself tense even more, but for different reasons. “What’s wrong?”
I jiggle my head, dropping my chin, not wanting to let him catch a glimpse of the stress on my face right now. What is wrong? Where should I start with my explanation?
One large finger lifts my chin, forcing me to gaze up at him.
May I just say that I have never in my life seen a man as handsome as this one is? He is so much taller than me too. I am no shrimp, five feet eight inches to be exact, and this man towers over me, as well as everyone around us. I have no doubt that he can easily gaze over the crowed room, which means he can also easily be seen.
His broad shoulders are stretching his bright white shirt, not hiding the fact that he works out. The sleeves he rolled up earlier display the dark hair that covers his forearms, there isn’t an overly obsessive amount, but there is enough to take note of. It makes me ponder on what he would look like without his shirt on. Would he have hair on his chest? Would his muscles be hard and defined? Would I ever get the chance to determine if I liked the way they felt against my hands, my body …?
Hold on … where did that thought come from?
Why does my face suddenly feel like it is on fire?
“Have I ever told you how much I adore it when you blush.” Antonio dips his head and angles it slightly. “Why are you blushing sweet Larkin?”
“No reason.” I lie and try to step back.
Antonio slides his large hand around the backside of my waist, situating it just above the curve of my butt. My breathing I believe quickens, and I am pretty sure I am going to hyperventilate soon if I don’t gain some control. So, I lift my hands so I can rub my forehead and conceal my eyes, hoping to block it all out.
“Am I going to need to kiss you again to get you to relax?” I feel his hot breath tickle my ear. “Drop your arms and wrap them around me?”
I drop them, but I don’t dare wrap them around his waist, instead I let them fall freely to my side. My eyes meet his and they lock, making my breath catch in my throat.
Now you need to remember we are supposed to be dancing. Everyone around us certainly is. He most definitely seems to be rocking his hips and shuffling mine with his hands. Apparently even my feet have been moving too, since they stop when his lips collide with mine.
They are extremely soft and moist. Full masculine lips that know how to move over mine perfectly.
Earlier when he kissed me to shut me up, I don’t think I really took the time to appreciate any of that. So, this time I decide to soak it all in and memorize how they feel against mine.
Antonio tugs me closer; forcing me to reach out and grab the first thing I can locate to steady myself. Which by the way happens to be his butt, lower part of his butt to be more accurate, so that I can paint you a better picture. Compelling him to bring that part of his anatomy forward, pressing his groin against my stomach.
A whimper escapes my mouth when I sense something begin to expand down there. All that does is seem to encourage him to kiss me harder while tightening his grip on me. Coercing another whimper from me. It’s like every time I become aware of him getting harder, I whimper, which only makes him get harder, a vicious cycle we have found ourselves in.
Antonio stops kissing me for a second so he can say something. “Open up so I can get in?”
I have no idea what he is trying to tell me—mush remember, that is what he turns my mind to when he kisses me. As a result, I start to say what, but am only able to the get the WH out before he is delving his tongue inside my mouth.
Oookkkaaaayyyyyy.
He moans as his tongue freely roams around inside my very happy mouth. And here I thought his closed mouth caresses were mind-mushing.
This style of kiss is the kind the erases all other kisses before this one, ordering your brain to only remember how this man kisses. Forges a memory inside your brain that will remain forever, no matter what happens later between the two of you.
The kiss ends slowly and I find my head being pressed securely to his chest. I can hear the pounding of his heart in my ear. When I come to my senses, I decide to remove my hands off his very tight butt, placing them on the small of his back instead.
“Larkin.” He whispers my name into the top of my head.
I breathe in his cinnamon scent before I tilt my head back so I can glance up at him. His eyes are now glazed over, as if he is high on something. High on me perhaps, and I begin to wonder if I look the same way.
When we spin around, I spot Hope and Reginald in the main crowd. I invited them to join us because I need a distraction right now. This is all getting too serious, too fast and if I think too hard about what I just let him do in front of his guests, I just might run out of this place screaming.
After a few songs Antonio motions for us to follow him to the couches that have been strategically situated in our area.
Hope drops down in one and swipes at her forehead. “Wow. Who knew royalty could be so cool? This is actually the most fun I have had in a really long time. So, do you do this often King Antonio?”
He shakes his head and reach for my hand. “No. My brothers are still into the party scene. Lorenzo more than Esteban, now that I keep him busy with, I could be the next king, type of business. But these last five years, since I inherited the throne, most of my free time has been spent with Isabel. I was getting a little bored of it anyways, so there is that. If you three hadn’t come tonight, I’d have probably made an appearance for about a half hour and then retreated to my quarters.”
I quickly see my chance to voice my opinion on the matter. “We don’t have to stick around. I don’t mind really.”
Hope rolls her eyes. “Seriously Larkin. Live it up a little. Come on Reggie the III, let’s get back out there and see if we can get one of those eager Ladies to notice a wealthy American.”
“You are welcome to party here with us.” Antonio extends a heart-felt invitation to Hope when she stands and starts to move towards the main floor.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. But seriously, when will I ever get the chance to party with a room full of Lords who have no idea what kind of trouble, I can get them into.” She winks at us as she drags poor Reginald into the larger crowd again.
“She is a handful, isn’t she?” He turns and looks at me as if I am the only person in this room.
“Hope definitely gets around from what I’ve been able to figure out. So, this is crazy.” I scan around the room and inspect all the action going on around us.
Both of his brothers have selected a few females that caught their attention earlier and seem to be having a good time. They aren’t hanging all over them, but
they are giving them some attention. The women are eating it up, although I get the impression the guys are just having fun and nothing will ever come from any of it.
Gabriela is dancing with a young man. She notices her brother watching, so she sticks her tongue out at him. That is totally a little sister move that she seems to have perfected over the years. I am sure she has had to listen to him lecture her several times about being careful and not letting guys take advantage of what she represents.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Antonio asks sounding hopeful that my answer will be yes.
“If you do.”
He stands and pulls me up with him, then leads us towards a door on the other side of the main dance floor. I’m guessing he has an idea where he wants to take me. This Palace is his home after all.
Palace his home, tell me that statement makes absolutely no sense.
Isaac notices us moving, so he begins to clear a path.
To make things easier so we can get through the crowd, Antonio arranges me in front of him, preventing me from getting swallowed up in the sea of people.
The door opens the moment we reach it, and he shoves me through quickly. I hear it close behind us just as quickly. I realize then where we are, in a beautiful garden area that is only lite by the light of the moon.
The moon.
That thought has me recalling what Antonio said about why my birth mother gave me such an unusual middle name. I’d never taken the time to really consider it may have any meaning, other than that she was probably high when she named me.
I didn’t mind my first name really. It wasn’t common, but I always got told that it was a pretty name and fit me. Moon on the other hand was odd. People who are considered eccentric, or under the influence of a substance, they are the only ones that end up naming their children after objects found in nature. You know like Star, Cosmo, Ocean or Indigo all names you know were thought up by someone who was a few sheets to the wind.