Royally Arranged (Bad Boy Royals Book 3)

by Nora Flite

  Not when she made me feel loved.

  I buried my nose into her scalp, breathing her in. “If I say I need you to sit with me at dinner, looking gorgeous, so no one sees the new king dining alone like some sad nobody . . .”

  “Okay, okay.” Laughing gently, she turned her phone off. “But when I get yelled at, I’m blaming you.”

  “I’ll happily accept being the bad guy.”

  For Nova, I was starting to think I’d do anything.

  The looks aimed at us when we entered the restaurant were intense. People cupped their mouths by their faces, speaking in hushed whispers. Our host tripped over his own feet twice as he led us to our booth in the corner.

  Torino had started to change some of its narrative. There were fewer rumors about me and my family. Glen had told me that the people were cautiously optimistic about having a young king and queen. And the wedding photos, especially the ones of me in my tailored suit and Nova in her stunning gown, had gained us some fans.

  She’d shown me an Instagram account that posted every picture of us that it had come across. It was creepy, but also . . . sort of nice to be so adored.

  I sat down, and our server beamed at me. “Let me know if I can get you anything, anything at all, Your Majesty.”

  Cringing, I waited until he was gone to say, “I can’t stand everyone calling me that.”

  “Me either,” she admitted. “My sister keeps teasing me about it. ‘Oh, can I run a bath for you, Your Royal Highness.’”

  I flashed a grin. “It’s not so awful when you say it.”

  Nova considered me, her smirk growing. “Yeah? Want some more impressions?”

  “Give me your absolute best.”

  She cleared her throat and let her voice fall until it was a velvety purr. “Your Majesty . . . my king.”

  My cock went rock hard in my pants. The flow of blood was so fast I was light-headed. “That’s something else. When it’s from your lips, I love it.”

  She giggled into her napkin, shutting up when the waiter returned to take our order. I didn’t care what I picked. I was really just here to spend time with Nova. I was full from eating her with my eyes. I barely tasted my food when it arrived.

  “Oh,” she whispered, blinking rapidly. Her arm curled under the table as she bent forward.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just my stomach. I think something in this risotto isn’t sitting right with me.” Pushing herself to her feet, she gave me a shaky smile. Her tan skin had become dull as plaster. “Be right back.”

  I half stood, unsure what to do. “Yeah. Okay, just . . . call me if you need help.”

  Nova barely acknowledged my request, too busy running toward the restroom. Every person in that place watched her go, some slyly, others blatantly. Phones clicked pictures of her fleeing.

  Sinking deep in my chair, I twisted my fork in my plate. If she got food poisoning for coming out to dinner with me, I’d feel terrible. Conscious of the onlookers, I drummed my fingers on my thighs. Then the table. I checked my phone, sniffed her risotto, and checked my phone once more.

  It came to life in my hands.

  Nova: We need to leave.

  I was already standing, throwing money onto the table—way more than our bill was. Grabbing her purse, I typed back.

  Me: Got it. I’ll meet you at the restroom.

  The phone buzzed again; I’d packed it in my pocket, already crossing the restaurant. She was probably telling me she was fine, or to wait by the exit, but I was singularly focused on helping her.

  The door with FEMMES written in curly letters swung open. I perked up, only to see someone with blonde hair exit. The stranger glanced at me, then deliberately averted her eyes. She was tapping her phone’s text box before she reached her table.

  The next person who came out was Nova. Her face was shining, like she’d washed it recently. Parts of her reddish hair were damp, the ends shading toward rich brown from the water. She gave me a surprised smile; it wasn’t enough to light up her cheeks or hide how pale she was. “I texted you. I wanted you to wait by the front.”

  “I was worried about you.” Sliding my arm around her shoulders, I handed her her purse, both of us walking toward the exit. I kept her close to my body the entire time.

  “I’m fine, it’s nothing. I just feel weird.”

  “I’ll take you home.” Home? Had the castle become that to me?

  Outside the restaurant I gave the paper slip to the valet. He ran off, leaving me and Nova to stand there in the warm night air. She squeezed my hand where it draped over her shoulder. “Sorry for ruining dinner.”

  “Are you kidding?” Kissing the top of her head, I guided her toward the street. My car was pulling up. “I had a great time. Plus, I think you gave those diners something to talk about for the rest of the evening. That was nice of you.”

  She laughed, pushing her face into my side to muffle the sound. The vibrations spun pleasantly across my ribs, taking a straight path toward my heart.

  Nova maintained that she was all right. Even after she rolled down my window and hurled out the side, she still insisted she was okay. That once the food was out of her system, she’d be one hundred percent perfect.

  Ignoring her proud attempts to shake me off, I assisted her back to her room in the castle. When we got there, she cracked her door. From the way her eyes darted inside, then back to me, I guessed what she was going to ask. “No,” I said, wrapping her fingers in mine. “You need to rest. And if I come inside, I don’t think either of us will get any.”

  A pretty pink color spread over her cheeks. It was the most color she’d had in the last hour. Standing as tall as she could, Nova kissed me. Her smooth lips lingered, leaving me wanting more. My craving kept up after she pulled away. “I’ll talk to you in the morning. Good night, Thorne.”

  “Night,” I said, watching the door click into place. For a while I leaned on the wall outside her room. Her warmth was still with me, coating my skin, my mouth, my pores. I wanted to bathe in her existence.

  Briefly I regretted turning her unspoken offer down. If I’d gone inside, I could be snuggling with her beneath the covers right now. Her hair would caress my face. I’d inhale her scent and lose myself, dreaming in it.

  There’ll be time. We’ve got tomorrow, the day after, and all of eternity.

  What could possibly keep me away from this woman?

  - CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE -

  NOVA

  “Are you still in there?” Darla banged on my bathroom door.

  Gripping the toilet bowl for dear life, I groaned. “Right where you left me fifteen minutes ago. Haven’t moved an inch.” My sister had barged in just after sunrise, insisting Mom was furious at me for blowing off the dinner last night. She’d taken one look at me hunched in my bathroom and gone as green as I was.

  “Is it your kidneys again?” she’d asked me. I sensed the unease in her softer volume; Darla could be terrible, but she wasn’t so ghoulish as to wish me harm.

  Shaking my head, I’d hurled some more. That had made her slam the door closed, insisting I needed privacy—and also that if she kept looking at me barfing, she’d barf, too. Then she’d fretted that I must have some weird illness that was contagious and had better not dare give it to her.

  Now, listening to her outside, I put my forehead on the cool porcelain. I’d said it wasn’t my kidneys, but how could I know for sure? This wasn’t that far off from what I’d gone through before. No. It’s not that. It’s something else, like food poisoning. I focused on my breathing. It was all I could do as I waited out the next wave of nausea.

  There was a soft click out in my room. Then some mumbling I recognized. “Nova?” my mother said a second later. “Your sister says you’re sick.”

  “Since last night,” I called back. Flushing the toilet, I made myself stand, holding on to things the whole time. “I barely slept. I’m so exhausted, and just―” Stepping out of the bathroom, I halted in my tracks.

&nb
sp; My mom and sister were standing by my bed. In Darla’s hands was a newspaper, her perfect nails crinkling it roughly. I read the front page—it was a gossip rag, one I didn’t know—but I didn’t have time to read the name. The headline had all my attention.

  “New Queen Pregnant? Photos Inside!” But there was a photo right there under the bold words. It was a grainy shot of me from last night, taken from a high angle as I threw up in the restaurant’s stall. Some asshole had followed me in and snapped the humiliating image.

  “Is this right?” Darla asked, gawking at me. “Are you pregnant?”

  “No.” I said it too quickly. “Of course not.” It couldn’t be that. I was very aware that Thorne had been using condoms the times we’d had sex. Even on our wedding night, he’d wanted protection. I’d understood, willing to wait until we both decided when—if—to follow through and create an heir.

  There was no way. It was impossible.

  Wasn’t it?

  The cemetery, I thought, my heart squeezing. Our first time, he didn’t use anything. He just pulled out. That had been weeks ago. I’d been so distracted I hadn’t noticed until now that my period was late. That . . . that means . . .

  My mother came toward me, grabbing me by my forearms. She was so tall; I stared up at her helplessly. “Darla, go and get a pregnancy test.”

  “What? Why can’t you send a servant?”

  “Because no one else can know about this,” she snapped. “Not until we’re certain.”

  My veins itched with how fast my blood was racing through them. “Mom . . .”

  She shushed me, one hand grazing my cheek. It was a rare loving caress. “It’s fine. This is what we wanted.”

  What you and Dad wanted, I thought, feeling sicker than ever. I didn’t know what I wanted. The idea of a baby with Thorne was . . . exciting, in a way. I’d never dreamed of becoming a mother. Creating an heir had been a responsibility, something I could shrug off until we were ready.

  But now I touched my belly and wondered how I’d do as a mom. Neither Thorne nor I had enjoyed a wonderful childhood. Perhaps, together, we could make up for our parents’ mistakes and do something beautiful . . . something right.

  Minutes later Darla returned with a test in hand. “Here,” she said, throwing it at me. I caught it clumsily. “I had one in my purse.” Mom shot a look at her, and she rolled her eyes. “What? Are you shocked I have sex?”

  Ignoring them both, I turned and shut myself in the bathroom. I wasn’t feeling sick anymore, like my anxiety was so powerful there was no room for anything else. I wasn’t supposed to be scared of anything. That was what my damn wish had been meant to do.

  I’m brave.

  I’m bold.

  I’m . . . I’m ready for this. Filling my lungs, I centered myself and followed the directions on the pregnancy test. The waiting was the worst part.

  “Nova?” My mother knocked gently.

  Holding the plastic indicator, I stared blankly at what it said. The next time she knocked, I opened the door halfway through her knuckles’ tapping. She startled, eyeing my face, reading my expression.

  Darla was sitting on my bed. She tilted sideways, squinting. “Well? Verdict?”

  “Pregnant,” my mom whispered, seeing it in my eyes.

  Holding out the test to her, I angled it so she could see the two pink lines. “I guess you’re going to be a grandmother.”

  There was a lot of action after that.

  Mom forced me back into bed. Much to Darla’s dismay, she was sent on errands. It was clear my parents felt this news had to be controlled.

  “But what about Thorne?” I asked, sitting up on my pillows. “Shouldn’t I let him know?”

  My parents glanced at each other, then back to me. “Of course you should,” my dad said. “In person. This news is too big for a text message.”

  “He’s right.” Mom leaned over to ease me back on the silken pillows. “It’s barely breakfast time. Why don’t you rest up here until you feel better?”

  “I feel all right,” I said, plucking at the covers. “I’m not an invalid.”

  “You’ve never been pregnant before,” Mom said, some of her normal, cool tone returning. “I have. Multiple times. You need to be off your feet while Darla goes and grabs you some food—”

  “Come on!” Darla groaned.

  “Do it,” Dad growled.

  My sister curled her plump upper lip in my direction. “What would little Miss Queen like to eat? Will you want me to feed it to you, too?”

  “Hey, come on,” I said. My eyebrows lifted as I tried to appeal to her. “I’m not the one asking you to do this. And I don’t have an appetite, I can barely hold down water.”

  “You need to eat!” Mom insisted.

  “Give her air, Valencia. Darla, hurry and get some fruit and muffins from the kitchens.”

  “She said she doesn’t want anything!” Darla shouted back.

  “Everyone needs to back off while I go take a shower!” I cried, throwing the blankets off a second time. “I get that you want to be useful . . . but I just want to clean up, take something for my headache, and figure out how I’m going to break this news to Thorne.” I shoved my way into the bathroom and slammed the door. I could still hear them talking outside, planning how to handle this new situation.

  Palming my belly, I imagined it growing full and round. My pinkie touched my transplant scar. I never imagined my life would ever change this much. I’d hoped for many things. I’d just never expected them to come true.

  But this was real. Thorne and I were going to have a baby.

  I couldn’t wait to tell him the news.

  - CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX -

  HAWTHORNE

  The first thing I did when I woke up was message Nova.

  Me: Hey, how are you feeling today?

  Me: Better?

  Sitting up in bed, I waited for the little bubble to pop up to show she was responding. When nothing came, I set my phone on my bedside table and stretched. She’s probably still sleeping. It was a little after nine in the morning—I’d hoped to sleep later, but I’d forgotten to close my curtains, allowing the sun to stab me in the eyeballs as it rose.

  Yawning so wide my jaw cracked, I placed my bare feet on the rug. I’ll shower, shave, then go check on her myself. My stomach rumbled. All right, all right. I’ll eat first, THEN go see her. It wasn’t like Nova was going anywhere.

  Standing under the hot water, I hummed gently. The sound reverberated through the black marble shower. Even though she’d gotten ill last night, Nova had assured me she’d had a great time. Just hope her mom doesn’t give her hell for skipping their dinner appointment.

  After drying myself off, I lathered on some shaving cream. A few careful scrapes with a razor turned my jawline smooth. I didn’t normally care about stubble—but when I thought about kissing Nova, I wanted to do everything I could to make the experience pleasurable.

  I’d never wanted to make a woman feel so good before.

  Wiping my chin, I glanced at myself in the mirror. The last time I’d really stared at myself like this was right after I’d learned I was going to become king. My eyes had been hollow that day. Angry. Resigned. Today the onyx centers were glinting with joy. After dressing in a pair of cedar-brown pants, matching shoes, and a tight-fitting smoke-gray shirt with long sleeves, I checked my phone again. Still no response? Surely she was awake by now. Had her battery died or something?

  Sticking my phone in my back pocket, I opened my bedroom door. Right away I saw the two maids huddled nearby; they were crouched over something in their hands, talking in wispy voices.

  Their heads jerked up at the sound of my door opening. Wide-eyed with a guilt I didn’t understand, they spun to face me. The girl on the left hid whatever she had behind her back. “M-morning, Your Majesty!” she squeaked.

  “Morning,” I said, arching an eyebrow. I closed the distance, studying them both. “What were you two talking about a second ago?”
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br />   “Nothing,” the other girl blurted.

  “It’s hers!” said the first, simultaneously.

  “Amy!” the one on the right gasped, stepping sideways. “How could you!”

  “Sorry, Stasia,” Amy mumbled.

  Putting my fingers to my temples, I sighed. “I’m lost. What’s going on?”

  Hanging her head, Stasia revealed a newspaper. She offered it to me, her eyes downcast. I took it gingerly, squinting at the maids before I unfurled the wrinkled pages. Holy shit. The front was a photo of Nova in a toilet stall, the words stamped above claiming she was experiencing morning sickness. “Is this city obsessed with scandals?” I asked, handing the paper back.

  The maids hesitated, then Stasia took the newspaper, folding it into a crisp square. “We’ll throw it in the garbage right away, Your Majesty.”

  “Everyone has to stop calling me that,” I groaned. Fuck, my head was throbbing. The headline kept rolling through my mind. Nova can’t be pregnant. I’ve been cautious . . . haven’t I? The first time in the cemetery pricked at my recollection. I pushed it down with a huge inhalation. Calm your fucking self. Just go talk to her, she’s probably laughing about this photo of her in the toilet right now.

  “Um,” Amy said, biting her lip. “Can we go now, Your Maj—sir?”

  “Fine, sure. Go.” I didn’t care what they did. I was having trouble thinking of anything but Nova, and the acute memory of my come sliding down her legs on the night I’d taken her virginity.

  Jesus.

  This could really be happening. I could actually be a dad. One step at a time, I told myself, running a palm down my face. I shut my eyes, breathed in, then began taking long steps down the hall.

  I didn’t see anyone as I headed toward the main foyer. My best guess was they were busy with their duties—probably still handling breakfast in the kitchens. At the point where the hall curved, my vision partially blocked, I didn’t see the guard until he was on me.

  He stopped himself just before we ran into each other. “Your Majesty,” the guard said stiffly. “I need you to come with me.”