by KL Donn
Accepting they are too far away for me to catch them before they leave, I memorize the license plate. Running back to my bike, I’m glad the beach has emptied out some given the hour, so I see when their car pulls out, and I’m able to easily follow along behind them.
With each mile driven, I know her bodyguard must think I’m a stalker or nuts, so I’m surprised when we arrive in Malibu, and he turns down a residential street that must be where she lives. Driving through a set of gates, they quickly close behind them, but he stops and steps out as I’m pulling up.
The man holds the back door closed as he stares at me while I shut down my motorcycle and climb off. Removing my helmet, I place it on the seat and shake out my hair as I approach him.
“She’s not like other girls, Mr. Larrabee.”
My eyes narrow. “How do you know my name?”
“It’s my job,” is all he says before opening the car door, letting the girl step out.
Her brows are furrowed as she stares up at the bodyguard. He nods his head towards me, and she turns to see me standing here. Sucking in a sharp breath, I’m startled as our eyes meet.
Hers are blue. As translucent as the ocean I spend so much time at.
Guardedly, she walks towards me with her hands twisting in front of her. I grip the metal bars when she’s within arm’s length because I’m dying to touch her, and I know if I don’t hold onto something, I’ll reach through these gates and pull her closer.
“Your name,” I demand gently.
She looks back to the bodyguard before facing me again, chewing on the inside of her mouth.
“Please. Tell me your name. I’ve been wondering for so damn long.” I’m not above begging.
I watch her throat work as she swallows. “Royal.” My eyes close as she says her name, and my heart nearly stops.
“Royal,” I repeat, and her head drops. “Perfection.” Her startled gaze meets mine. “It’s precisely as I imagined.”
“I’m normally made fun of.” There’s hurt in her tone, and I want to pound on anyone who has ever made her feel insecure about it.
“I’m Beckett or Beck.” She takes another step closer, and I want to reach for her. To see if her skin is as smooth as I imagined, but I know it’ll scare her off.
“I’ll be at the house. Don’t be long,” her bodyguard says and drives away, leaving us alone.
Royal spins to watch him go, and her cardigan catches, revealing part of her lower back. I see scars and bruising on her delicate flesh.
“Are you alright?” I immediately ask.
Her hands automatically move to cover the skin I was staring at as she spins back to me. “Yes, fine. I've had a medical procedure done, and it leaves bruises for a while.”
My head tilts because she’s omitting something, but I let it go, asking instead, “Can I take you for coffee or ice cream or dinner. Anything you want.” I don’t care what it is; I just want to be in her presence for as long as possible.
Her eyes dart to my bike with longing before she shakes her head. “I’m not allowed to.”
“How old are you?” Please don’t be underage. That would kill me.
Royal
* * *
Swallowing again, because I can’t seem to catch my breath and my mouth is parched, I struggle with answering Beckett.
Beckett…
Such a formidable name for this man. I would never have guessed that.
“Royal?”
I shake my head. I do that, get lost in my own thoughts. “Uh, sorry. I’m twenty.” I can’t look at him; he won’t understand. Nobody ever does. There’s a reason I don’t have friends, and I remain isolated. My parents don’t want any outside influences. That’s why I was so shocked that Braxton left me alone with him.
“Twenty,” he repeats, “and you can’t go out.”
“Right.” I nod, prepared for him to leave me behind. Like everybody else does.
“Can I bring it here then?” My head pops up to see him watching me, a thousand questions in his soulful hazel eyes. He gets me, connects with who I am.
“Oh, uhm, I can’t open the gate. I don’t have the code.” I clench my jaw at that confession. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“The code. You’re trapped in there?” He sounds angry now as his eyes glare at the bars separating us.
Fidgeting, I pull at the sleeves of my sweater. “Not exactly. I’m just not allowed to leave without Braxton.” I point back towards the house.
“The bodyguard.” I nod. He doesn’t appear pleased about that either. “So we sit out here; it’s warm out.”
I’m almost too stunned to speak. “What?”
Stepping back from the fence, he stares along the ground and the length of the bars. “A picnic, sort of. Haven’t you ever had one?”
I know it’s an offhanded comment, and he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it stings all the same. “No. I haven’t.”
“Fucking hell,” he groans, looking up when I gasp. “Don’t tell me they’ve never sworn in front of you either.” His eyes are playful, but he’s not going to like this answer any more, so I shake my head from side to side. “You’re like an innocent little lamb, aren’t you.” It’s not a question because he’s not wrong. I am innocent in all ways.
There’s an awkwardness now. One I don’t know how to dissipate, which forces me to keep silent. I’m the obedient girl; I don’t fill the quiet void of conversations. I don’t disobey, and I don’t talk back.
I do as I’m told.
But I get the feeling Beckett wouldn’t like that very much. He’s crass, outspoken, and doesn’t fear consequences. At least that’s the impression I get from him.
“What’s your flavor of choice?” His hand around my wrist, gently pulling me closer, mutes me. “Royal, what kind of ice cream do you like?” I’m against the bars now, as close as we’ll ever be.
“I don’t have one,” I mumble, unable to take my eyes from his full lips as he smiles, ultimately capturing my attention.
Unexpectedly, I feel his other hand brush up my back and into my hair as his mouth touches mine. Warmth floods me as my eyes close. He’s gentle as we touch, connect. He’s kissing me, and suddenly, I can’t form a breath as my body floats on air.
“Breathe, Royal,” Beck murmurs as I feel him drawing back, away from me. “Raspberry,” he says and hops on his bike like the world didn’t just change for me.
I watch as Beckett rides off to get…something. And I’m dazed. Shocked.
I feel alive for the first time in more years than I can ever remember.
Hands gripping the iron gates, I close my eyes and wait until I no longer hear the rumble of the engine. Taking my first full breath in minutes, I turn and lean against the bars. I can see Braxton watching me from the house, and since my dad isn’t standing there with him, I know he’s not home. Which means my mother likely isn’t either since she’d have stormed over and dragged me inside if she knew I was lingering and talking to a man.
Straightening my tulle skirt, I pull the hem of my cardigan down and walk towards the house. This is the most exhilarating night of my life, and if Beckett wants to have a picnic at the gate with ice cream, I’m grabbing the cushions from the deck chairs and a blanket. I get cold easily, and despite the California heat, I still get the chills.
“He left awfully quick,” Braxton points out.
“Beckett”—I love saying his name—“went to get ice cream.” Grabbing the thick cushions, one in each hand, I fling a blanket over my shoulder and head back to the gate.
“You sure he’s coming back?” My steps falter in the pebbles of the driveway, but I hold my head high.
“Yes,” I call over my shoulder.
I believed he was; now, Braxton has me uncertain. I hate that. I don’t want to be some insecure girl; nobody would like that.
With more confidence than I feel in my step, I quietly walk back to the edge of the gate. Dropping one cushion and the blanket on my side, I slip
the other to the opposite side and place it nicely on the ground, brushing any dust off that billowed up. Slipping my shoes off, I sit down cross-legged and drape the blanket across my lap.
As I wait, I grow nervous, having no idea where Beck would go to get ice cream. I’ve lived here my entire life, but aside from the school, the beach, and the hospitals, I’m secluded. The more I think about how much so, I grow a little angry and resentful.
My entire life, I’ve always done what I was told and said yes when asked because there really wasn’t a choice. I love my family, but I don’t think I like them very much. On a daily basis, I’m controlled and manipulated into doing what they want for their benefit, not my own.
All I want is to be me…Royal. To be loved. To retrieve the choices that were taken away from me during conception. My life was never intended to be my own.
I was born to be somebody else’s spare parts.
Beckett
* * *
I know Royal won’t wait long. Or rather, her bodyguard won’t allow her to wait forever. Thankfully, I’ve driven up and down the coast of California enough to know there’s an ice cream shack less than a mile from her house.
I grab six different kinds because I have no clue what she likes. Although after that kiss and tasting the raspberry on her lips from a lip gloss, I know she enjoys bittersweet.
With the bag of chilly delights between my legs, freezing my damn nuts, I’m turning down her road in no time. The picture greeting me, Royal sitting on a cushion on one side of the gate with a blanket on her lap and an extra cushion on my side, causes me to grin.
Innocent she may present herself, but thoughtful is who she is. If I had to guess, she’s a caregiver of some kind to someone. There’s an innate sweetness in Royal that I don’t think I’ve seen in a grown woman before.
I can’t wait to explore more of her personality. I can only hope that I get to learn more before she runs from me. I see the skittishness as she watches me. She didn’t expect me to return. And that makes me sad as hell.
Grabbing the bag, I lift it up as I walk over. “Looks like you know what a picnic is after all.” Placing the bag between us, I can see her curiosity as I unlace my boots and kick them off, sitting cross-legged like she is and facing her.
“Well, I know the basics, I suppose.” Her eyes are still on the bag.
Untying it, I pull each cup of ice cream out and hand her a spoon. Tucking the bag under my legs so it doesn’t fly away, I begin to pop the lids off each container.
“Chocolate, vanilla, cookie dough, tiger, raspberry, and bubble gum. Pick your poison.” When she can’t seem to make up her mind, I offer, “Or try them all.”
Amazed, she stares up at me. “You don’t mind?”
This girl. She’s going to be the death of me.
Leaning closer, she slowly mimics my action, so I capture her around the back of her neck, pulling her closer. “Baby, the only thing I mind is the fucking gate between us.” She bites her lip and fights back a smile at my foul language. “Get used to it,” I mutter before kissing her again. She’s so damn surprised that her mouth opens, and I take it for granted by slipping my tongue between her lips, teasing her.
The desire to pull Royal closer, press her body against mine is so strong that I nearly forget about the bars separating us. Drawing back, breathless and frustrated, I lean my head against hers, our irregular respirations in sync with each other.
“I really fucking hate these things.” I slap the iron forcibly with my hand, and Royal bites her lip as she straightens up.
“You’re very blunt.” Her head tilts quizzically.
Lifting up the bubble gum ice cream, I take a scoop with my spoon and hold it out for her. As she takes a bite, I respond. “I don’t see much point in hiding what I want. The cursing is as natural as breathing for me.”
Withdrawing the spoon, I put it in my mouth, sucking off the last remnants she missed. Her eyes widen as she licks her lips, and we continue on like this until all the ice cream is gone, me spoon-feeding her then licking the utensil clean. Each time her blush darkens a bit.
“So tell me, what’s it going to take for me to get you out on a real date?” I need to feel her on the back of my motorcycle, arms wrapped around my waist as she holds on tight.
Before she can answer, the sound of a car approaching has Royal jumping to her feet. When the gate begins to open, her face pales. The car rolls by slowly before coming to a stop in the middle of the property's entrance.
As the front door opens, Royal’s entire demeanor changes, becoming submissive. Standing up, I watch as a perfectly polished older man steps out of the town car. His hair is grey and parted at the side; he’s a few years younger than my own parents, I suspect. His charcoal suit is impeccably tailored and creaseless despite the lateness of the day.
“Royal, what’s going on?” The gentleman looks to the girl in question as she steps around the extended gate, clasping her hands in front of her as she plays with a button on her sweater.
“Good evening, Father. I was just having ice cream with a friend.” I frown as her eyes dart to me, shame reflected briefly, and I have to wonder if it’s because she was caught with me.
“Your friend,” he snarls as his eyes take me in, judging me not for what I’m wearing but for what I’m not wearing. Controlled Bikes does exceptionally well. We may not have Malibu wealth, but Cade, Jace, and I have enough money to live securely. Not that this man will ever understand or appreciate the work we put into it, from the way he’s looking at me now.
Stepping forward, I hold out my hand. “I’m Beckett Larrabee, sir.” My parents instilled far more manners in Cade and me than we’ll ever use, but we both know when to turn on the charm.
He refuses to take my hand. “How do you know my daughter?”
Braxton walks forward, and I see him give a slight shake of his head, and I feel like I’m missing something completely. “We met,” I start, and his head begins to shake harder, “at the ice cream shop up the road a few times over the last few months. Thought I’d surprise her tonight with a picnic.” The lie falls effortlessly from my lips as Braxton nods approvingly.
“Royal isn’t allowed to date.” Her father crosses his arms while glaring at his daughter.
“She mentioned that. Which is why I thought friends could be an option.”
“Beckett was just–”
The older man interrupts whatever Royal was just about to say. “So she’s told you then?” There’s a frigid look in his eyes I don’t like.
“Told me what?”
“That she’s having her sister's baby. She doesn’t have time for you. She has other obligations.”
Royal
* * *
“Go inside, Royal,” my father demands, and I feel sick. Beckett doesn’t say anything about the bomb my father dropped, but I feel betrayed. Hurt. He did that on purpose. “I expect we won’t be seeing you again, Mr. Larrabee.”
Dad climbs back in the car, and as soon as the vehicle is out of the way, the gates begin to close. I can feel the heat of Braxton’s body a few feet away, but I’m frozen. I feel like I’ve been dumped in ice water as Beckett turns to pick up our leftover containers, putting them in the saddlebags of his bike.
I want to explain, to beg him not to leave. But Braxton’s hand on my shoulder, dragging me away, halts any words I would have found the courage to say.
“Royal.” Beckett’s stern call of my name stops me in my tracks, and I look over my shoulder at him. “You really think he’s going to scare me off that easily?” The smirk across his lips says it won’t. “I’ll be back, baby. You can count on it.” I nod at his promise because it’s all I have right now.
Watching the man stride towards his motorcycle, I can only hope he's speaking the truth. I wouldn’t blame Beckett if he didn’t come back. My life is complicated and messy. He probably doesn’t want that for himself.
Entering the house as the sounds of Beckett leaving fade away, I se
e my mom and sister sitting on the couch while my father pours himself a glass of bourbon.
“Who the hell is he?” Dad shouts.
“Just a friend.” Though those kisses didn’t feel very friend-like. They felt more intimate. “Am I not allowed those either?” I have all these rules, conditions, chains around my life.
“Not when they look like that,” he barks. “You shouldn’t be out with strangers when you have commitments here. Leia needs you to do this, and you will.”
Nobody speaks up to say it’s my choice and that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do.
“I already said no,” I murmur. I hate that my sister isn’t strong enough to carry her own baby, but I can’t do it either. I refuse to give that part of myself, a part I’ve been saving for someone special, to her when she isn’t even the one asking me for the overwhelming request. I’ve already given her everything. All the sacrifices I’ve made for her…for them. I can’t do this one.
“You will,” Dad commands with a surety that only he appreciates. “Mark my words, you will.”
Walking away is the only thing I can do at this point. No one will listen to reason, and I’m terrified that he’s right. That he will force me, no matter the cost to myself.
Chapter 3
Royal
“What Other People Say" by Demi Lovato & Sam Fischer
Up before the sun, I’m once again sitting on the beach behind our house. The private area is the one saving grace about living at home.
I could hear my parents arguing late into the night about how to deal with me, and I finally put headphones in a little after midnight. Leia doesn’t seem to care either way. If anything, my sister just looks exhausted all the time. Like she’s ready to give up or has found peace.