Royally Arranged (Bad Boy Royals Book 3)

by Nora Flite

  Because he didn’t have a chance, I realized abruptly. Frosty shame slowed my running. Thorne was with me all night, he didn’t go back to his hotel until after we separated. That had been close to midnight.

  Thinking it over, I wondered if a warning would have made much difference. He really doesn’t want to be the king. I’d expected him to be excited about the news. Most people would jump for joy over such a blessing. I’d listened to my brothers seethe over being told they couldn’t claim the throne by force, that it didn’t work that way. If you didn’t have blue blood, Torino wouldn’t accept you as a ruler.

  Thorne was entitled to the position.

  But he still resisted. When I remembered his cold shoulder as he’d run away from me outside the church, it turned my stomach inside out. I’d been shocked when he’d confronted me in the cemetery tonight. I’d gone there to get some privacy . . . tired of all the manipulation my family couldn’t resist taking part in.

  After Thorne appeared, plucking flowers from my hair, I hadn’t wanted to be alone.

  Thinking about it made my skin sizzle.

  How was it possible for me to come away from what we’d done and remain so unchanged? Was it because I’d already transformed so much? Remembering the hard edges of his teeth where they’d explored my softest spots, I clutched a hand to my chest. Did he have any guess what it meant for me? Could he sense the sheer magnitude of it?

  I almost ran straight into my brothers as I pushed through the doors of the hotel we were staying at. They were standing in the lobby, talking in hushed tones. Larchmont spotted me, his skin oddly shiny, like he’d been out for a jog. His face still swollen.

  Thorne hadn’t managed to break my brother’s nose—and even if it was awful, I wished he had. It might have washed off some of Larch’s self-righteous elitism. Seeing them fight had been a shock for me. I was so used to my brothers having the upper hand in everything. But Thorne had held his own, he’d fought back like he was angry at something much bigger than any of them.

  Larchmont nudged Richard, who turned, scanning my face.

  “Why do you two look so guilty?” I asked, eyeing them up and down as I tried to get to the stairs.

  Larch snorted, blocking my path. “Us? You’re the one who was gone all night. What were you doing?”

  “Getting some air. Out of my way.”

  Richard moved aside, but my other brother didn’t. “Slow down.” He grabbed my upper arm, squeezing me tight, keeping me from going anywhere. “Remember who you’re talking to.” He dug in until I winced in pain. The men at the front desk busied themselves, avoiding getting involved. “Don’t forget whose side you’re on, sis.”

  He released me, I gingerly rubbed my skin. “I know what side I’m on.”

  “Sure you do,” he said quietly, something dangerous putting an edge to his tone. “You were only crying out for Thorne, warning him in the fight, because you were trying to help me.”

  I held his stare. “Attacking him was your choice, not mine. I wasn’t going to stand there while you and Richard ruined everything.” When I slid my glare to Richard, he had the grace to turn away and stare at the floor. “It’s like you didn’t even listen to Dad.”

  “I listened. I was just seeing what made that shithead so worthy of the crown.”

  My eyes danced to his facial bruises. “Did you find out?”

  That made his smug smile crumble. Quickly, I hurried up the stairs. He didn’t follow, and I was grateful. It was stupid to egg Larch on, but his violent urges made my skin crawl.

  Behind me in the hallway came footsteps. I whirled around, ready to face off with Larchmont again. But it wasn’t him following me. “Richard?” I asked, knotting my eyebrows.

  The biggest of my brothers approached. He filled the hallway, his size known to intimidate everyone. Not me, though. As awfully as I’d been treated by my family, Richard had never wielded the same cruelty.

  He put his hands in his pockets. Casting a shifty glance over his shoulder, he came to stand over me. “Nova, listen. I don’t think you should be starting fights with Larch.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Is that what you really wanted to talk to me about?”

  His head shifted down. When he finally met my stare, his pupils were wide, his frown gentle. “I’m not oblivious. I saw the way you chased Hawthorne down the street after the funeral.”

  Heat flowed up my neck. He saw that? “If Larchmont sent you to hammer the point home—”

  “He didn’t.” Richard fidgeted, his large shoulders rising. “I’m here because I’m worried about you. Nova, don’t get too close to Hawthorne. Even if you might end up marrying him, we’re your family. Not him.” His features twisted. “I hate the idea of you being alone with that guy.”

  The anger melted from my body. It happened too fast for me to grab it, and with it went my armor. “Richard, I get that you’re concerned. But please don’t treat me like I’m weak.”

  He flinched, like he realized he was talking down to me the way my parents always did. “You’re not weak,” he started, carefully picking his words. “But after what you’ve been through . . .”

  “What I went through is what made me strong,” I said flatly. I glanced toward the wall, still speaking to him. “If you think I’m being manipulated by Thorne, you’re wrong.”

  He went silent. Finally I heard him start to leave. “Regardless, I’ve got your back.” His words flowed over his shoulder just before he vanished around the corner.

  It took me a while to gather myself. I was tempted to run after Richard and thank him for his concern. He’d always been quiet. If he was telling me he was worried, then he really meant it. I appreciated that—but his concern was misplaced.

  I reached my room on the third floor without taking the elevator. I didn’t mind the effort—I was buzzing with too much energy and needed to burn it off. Richard had left my mind swirling. I made myself focus on something better.

  Hawthorne.

  Talking to that man was one thing, but kissing him . . . having sex with him . . . it had taken my brain and stretched it out to dry in the sun. I’d been flayed open and I loved it.

  The memory of his hard muscles made me shiver deliciously. I opened my door and stopped on the threshold. Sitting on my bed were two women: my mother, Valencia, and my younger sister, Darla. She was a carbon copy of my mom. Slender, with the same golden-red hair, except she kept hers curled into big, bouncy ringlets, the kind a little girl’s doll would have. Even though she was twenty-two, she loved to wear a mix of childish ribbons, stockings, and Mary Janes, all while her hems were too high, or her necklines too deep. It was oddly perverse. Darla appeared half-asleep, the way a lazy cat that always got what it wanted did. “Look who’s finally back,” she said, kicking her feet at the edge of the bed.

  By my large window I saw a third figure. Austere was still wearing the same black lace she’d worn at the funeral. “Auntie,” I said, acknowledging her. The older woman glanced once at me, her smile sad, before she stared out at the city again. Watching my mother, I popped the buttons open on my coat. “Were you all waiting for me?”

  When she swayed onto her feet, my mother reminded me of a willow switch blowing in a light breeze. Those beautiful, slim branches could be used to burn cuts into sensitive skin. “Where did you go after dinner?” she asked.

  “For a walk. I told Darla I was going out.” She’d caught me in the hallway outside my room after I’d slipped into my jacket. Now she was watching me with the kind of glee unique to those who enjoyed their siblings getting in trouble.

  My mother didn’t even look at Darla on the bed. She kept her burned-maple eyes firmly on me. “You’re saying you’ve been wandering around for the last three hours?”

  Heat started to swim up my body. I did my best to keep it from showing in my face; I willed myself to remain neutral. “It was lovely by the ocean. I lost track of time.”

  She judged me, and I knew she was trying to see where my lies began
and ended. Finally she sighed, giving me some relief when she turned away to fix her hair in the dresser mirror. “You should have called me. You could have gotten lost, and then where would we be?”

  I tensed up, hearing what was being said between the lines about my capabilities. “I wouldn’t get lost. I’ve been to this city a number of times. I’m not scatterbrained.”

  My mother studied me as she spoke. “Perhaps. But you’re clearly not aware enough to have noticed that this city is full of unseemly types these days.”

  “I know,” Darla gushed, wrinkling her nose. “Did you see all the dirty people sleeping next to our hotel? Disgusting.”

  Clenching my fists was all I could do to keep myself from shouting It’s our fault they’re homeless! My parents had been siphoning money from the royal vault for some time, and the effect on the country got worse every year.

  “Anyway,” Darla said, leaning eagerly toward me off the bed. Her lips were pulled back in an excited grin. “I heard you were there earlier when Larch and Rich got their butts kicked by Hawthorne. Tell me all the gritty details.”

  “Don’t gossip about your brothers getting injured,” my mother huffed.

  Darla rolled her eyes. “Mom, maybe you and Auntie should go to bed. Leave us two girls alone, hm?”

  “Watch it, young lady.”

  “That’s soon-to-be young queen,” my sister chuckled. Her words made my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth. “And when I’m married to that violent fool, as I heard him described, you’ll be the ones who have to watch out.” She winked.

  Off to the side, Austere angled her body, scrutinizing my sister. I wondered what she was thinking about all this—did it hurt to have us casually discuss that we’d be replacing her?

  Drawing to her full height, my mother stared down at Darla. Quickly my sister threw up her hands, laughing. “Kidding! I’m kidding. I’m not going to try and push you around, Mom.”

  Hanging my coat up by the door, I fingered the cuff, speaking more to it than them. “You think he’ll choose you?”

  “Of course he will,” Darla said. She’d jumped to her feet and was adjusting her dress. “Look at me. I’m his dream girl.”

  “Why would you want to marry someone you just met?” I asked, mirroring Thorne’s question to me in the cemetery.

  Darla squinted, as if I’d started spinning on my head. “That’s a stupid question. Who would turn down a chance at being a queen?” Studying her nails, she picked at one. “Besides, he’s kind of hot.” Her eyes shot back to me, her smile faltering. “Wait. Wait wait wait. Don’t tell me you want to marry him?”

  Before I could respond, my mother came to stand beside me. Her hand was solid on my shoulder. Her affection was a recent thing. I was still adjusting to it. A greedy part of me was hungry for any kindness she’d offer, after going so long without it. “It doesn’t matter what either of you want. Darla, you’re the obvious choice, and if he picks you, I’m sure you’ll know what to do. But Nova . . .” She trailed off, then tightened her grip. “I expect you’ll accept your duty all the same.”

  I touched her hand, then walked over to sit on the bed and pull off my shoes. “I knew what I was getting into when you and Dad told us the plan.” I’d had to control myself from smiling too much at the time. The idea of marrying Hawthorne Badd . . . It was wild. More than I’d ever thought would happen. But any uncertainty I’d had, any doubt, had vanished after our first kiss.

  “Darla?” Mom pried.

  “Yes, yes, I know.” She flipped her hair over her shoulders. “But an arranged marriage is still a marriage, and we all know that I’m the one the guys chase. Unless . . . have men been chasing you that I don’t know about, Nova?”

  Her jab was meant to be cruel. She wanted to nail me on how I’d never dated anyone before. But I was busy smiling at something on my leg. Touching the bandage Thorne had pressed to my scrape yesterday, I shrugged. “Who knows.”

  I felt Darla’s stare. Giving her a side-eye, I held my silent smile. I knew she was trying to read my face. I also knew she couldn’t.

  Black lace swept into my vision on the floor. Austere had come to stand before me. She’d tossed her veil back, letting me see her benevolent smile. Unlike my mother’s, her eyes were green. Austere had always seemed older than she was, the way adults are when you’ve known them since you were small, but the last few years had turned her soft skin into hardened, wiry grooves.

  “You know,” she said, her hands glued together in front of her waist, like she was afraid to touch anything around her, “I was nervous about marrying Hester originally. But your mother encouraged me to go for it. In the end, I did love him very much. The same could happen between you and Thorne.”

  She’d misread my defensiveness as fear. I didn’t correct her. “Auntie . . . will you really leave this place after living here for so long?”

  Her stare drifted away, seeing something other than the hotel room. “Yes. This country never welcomed me. All I want is to return to the States so I can mourn Hester in peace.”

  As much as I loathed what she had helped my parents do to Torino, it struck me as incredibly sad to realize Austere had loved a man who was now gone forever.

  When she walked around me toward the door, I whispered, “I hope you find that peace you want. I mean it.”

  Her eyes widened in shock, her smile hesitant but genuine.

  “Come on,” my mother said. “Let’s get to bed, Darla. We’ll see you in the morning. Remember to wear something nice for the luncheon. The black dress I hung up for you is the one I’d prefer.”

  She doesn’t even trust me enough to dress myself. That stung almost as much as the fact that she didn’t know I hated the color black. She’d had one of our staff back home go shopping for me for this trip, giving them a list of her own preferences, never once asking my input.

  When I was alone I finished stripping down. In front of the bathroom mirror, I turned from side to side, checking myself for . . . any hint that there was a difference in me after I’d had sex with Thorne. If I didn’t feel it internally, perhaps it would show on the outside. Hadn’t Larchmont said I looked guilty when I ran into him?

  But there was nothing I could see. Just my smooth skin, free of tattoos, nothing at all like that man’s stunning form. Even if I wasn’t as flawless as he, I wasn’t ashamed of my soft shape. Once I had been. Not any longer.

  I traced a finger up my hip, then around, finally rolling over the raised scar tissue on my lower stomach. He hadn’t seen it because we hadn’t undressed. Would I tell him about it if he asked? Part of me thought I’d spill my soul to him. My secrets were by omission, I didn’t intend to lie. It was just . . . it didn’t matter. Nothing about who I’d been or how I’d found my way to metamorphosis was important.

  The only thing I cared about was now.

  Turning off the light, I fumbled for my bed in my blindness. I welcomed the pressure of the thick, heavy covers. They made me feel solid. Like I wasn’t about to vanish into thin air.

  Lying there, I gazed at the ceiling I couldn’t see in the dark. My mind was racing too much for me to sleep. But I was used to staying awake. I didn’t sleep much these days—I spent my quiet time reading or drawing. Whatever struck my mood. Every minute I wasn’t doing something was a waste.

  Tomorrow he’ll decide who he’ll marry. Darla was oblivious to the connection I had with Thorne. I’d clung to it since the start . . . since long before I’d ever spoken to the man. Even before seeing him in person, I’d been eager to know more about him. It had arisen from the pages of data my father had his spies collect. He’d handed them out to us, drilled us on the knowledge so that we were always aware of what the Badds were up to.

  It was my father’s game that I had to be a part of. I did as he asked, and he left me alone. I’d thought that was enough. I was sure that life consisted of looking at my feet while never standing up to men like my father.

  Meeting Hawthorne really had changed everything
.

  Shutting my eyes, I stared at an inkiness no different from the lightless room. I was filled with a glorious, relaxed soreness I’d never experienced before. The insides of my thighs were tender. Parts of me were raw when I rocked this way or that. Life was so good.

  Remembering my wish, I placed my palm gently on my scar. I didn’t wonder if my suffering had been worth it. Not when I thought about the way Thorne had flirted with me . . . courted me . . . kissed me.

  Fucked me.

  Karma made me confident that it wasn’t possible for life to throw any more tragedy at my feet. I fell asleep not realizing how naive I was. How wrong I was.

  But I would learn.

  - CHAPTER TWELVE -

  HAWTHORNE

  Lifting the newspaper, I offered it to my father when he opened the door to his hotel room. “Happy Back from the Dead Day,” I said with a smile.

  His grim frown didn’t budge. “Get in here.”

  “I’m guessing you already saw the paper,” I said, following him inside. My mother was sitting at a table in the morning sunlight. She’d pulled her hair up on her head. It showed off her long neck where her velvety pale purple robe didn’t hide it. There were pockets under her tired eyes.

  Looking at me, she offered a croissant from the basket she had. They must have ordered room service. “Morning, Thorne,” she said. “Here. Eat up, you’re going to need your energy today.”

  “As opposed to every other day.” I dropped the paper on the table. I took the croissant, bit off a hunk, and chewed. My father was sitting on the huge bed, gripping his own copy of the newspaper and staring at it. I knew what he was reading; I’d read it multiple times, too, when I’d picked it up off my hallway floor.

  “Long-Lost Prince Returns. Will He Take the Crown?”

  Swallowing the bread, I flapped the paper I’d brought and read it aloud. “‘Maverick Fredricson comes back from the dead. Multiple authorities have confirmed his identity after an official statement from Glen Finbar of the royal guard, but no one can confirm why our lost prince has come home. Does he want to take his late brother’s place?’” I squinted at my dad. “Well, does he?”