Royally Ruined (Bad Boy Royals Book 2)

by Nora Flite

  “At the club,” he said, not letting go of me, “all the waitresses had on heels. But not you. You were wearing those.” He motioned at my sneakers with their pink stripes up the sides. “It was an educated guess.”

  “Huh. It was a good guess, Sherlock.” I peeked at him through my lashes. “I didn’t tell you what size I wore, though. Explain that to me.”

  Wickedness danced through his hot stare; his grip tightened. “That was easy to figure out. After running my hands down your body, I just . . .” The smirk became a small frown—not an angry one, but like he was trying to bite his tongue and control himself. “I have a good memory,” he finished softly.

  Tension went through my belly to my knees. He felt me up in the club, and that was enough to imprint my body’s dimensions in his brain. It was impressive and terrifying and a turn-on, all at once.

  I sensed how he hesitated before letting go of my fingers. “We should hurry,” he said, showing me his wide, straight shoulders from behind. He faced the exit like looking at me was too much for him. “The ceremony is soon, and I need to be there early.”

  Running my palms over my stomach to dry the clammy sweat, I nodded. “Okay. It’s not like I’ve got the supplies on me to do a makeover, anyway. Just give me one second.”

  The most I could do with my hair was smooth it down in the wall mirror near the bed. The reflection let me see behind me—to the doorway.

  Costello waited halfway inside the room, like my own private bodyguard.

  But he wasn’t watching the hallway for danger.

  He was watching me.

  - CHAPTER NINE -

  COSTELLO

  She was beautiful.

  I’d had the dress ordered soon after I’d left. My phone had been acting up, so I’d cornered the hotel concierge and told her, quite plainly, that a member of my family was in need of a dress for the wedding. The woman had been quick to figure something out, offering to drive to the nearest boutique and return within the hour.

  Watching Scotch joke about her outfit had sent the point home—she needed more than hand-me-down clothes. I’d arranged everything because I refused to miss a step in this charade of ours. It was just another way for me to feel like I had everything under control.

  When I saw her in that pale pink dress . . .

  I’d forgotten what the word control meant.

  It had been a challenge to keep myself from pushing her onto the bed and ignoring the whole damn ceremony. If it had been anyone else’s wedding . . . I might have. But this was Kain, and for my little brother—for my family—I’d do anything.

  Or I’d thought I would. Lately I was beginning to wonder.

  We exited the hotel and walked along the lit path that ran beside the rustic stables. No money had been spared, and the closer we got to the ceremony’s location, the more obvious that was.

  It was a cool evening. Tall metal heaters had been placed on the cedar-chip trail. Pine branches overhead dangled crystals and paper lanterns. But the real beauty waited just across from the barn.

  The field was wide, full of bluish-green grass that could survive the snow, and surrounded by a white fence. Winding over the wood were long strings of ivy, lavender, and lilacs. Inside the field were rows of padded gold chairs, the backs thick with wreaths made from pinecones and holly.

  And there, waiting in the center beneath an altar of purple roses, were two gorgeous horses, both glowing like pearls under the slowly setting sun. “Wow,” Scotch whispered next to me.

  Smiling, I hooked my arm in hers and led her to the chairs. “Sit here.” I motioned. “I need to check on Kain.” My brother was standing by the fence, surrounded by Thorne and the priest they’d brought to officiate.

  Scotch’s hand tightened on my elbow. Did she not want me to go? “Got it,” she eventually said, releasing me and parking herself in a chair far away from the rose-petal aisle. “Will you be long?”

  I started to answer; Kain’s voice cut me off. “Yo! Costello!” He waved at me with a giant grin.

  “Not too long,” I mumbled. “We’ll talk again soon enough. Just wait.”

  Her chocolate eyes narrowed with uncertainty. “You’re in the wedding party, is that it?”

  I stiffened at her accusation. “How did you . . .”

  A coy smile spread on her lips; I ached to kiss it away. “You had to get here before everyone else, that kind of gave it away. Plus, it’s your family. Why wouldn’t you be included in something like this?”

  The innocent question sliced through my gut. I was full of splinters, each of them an old, painful reminder of the many times I’d been excluded by my own family. I don’t blame them, I reminded myself. It has to be this way. There were worse things in life than being a martyr.

  I couldn’t handle her sweet, pink-cheeked grin. Hot-and-bothered Scotch . . . or pissed-off-at-me Scotch . . . those versions were easier to swallow. Sex and violence weren’t new to me.

  Kindness was.

  “I need to go.” It came out crisper than the winter wind. Turning around before I could see her reaction, I headed toward Kain and the others.

  The ceremony was stunning.

  Sammy trailed her mermaid-style gown down the aisle, the long ribbons catching the flower petals and making designs as they ruined the straight path. It made my heart swell to see how overwhelmed my brother was at the sight of his bride.

  I stood beside Thorne, the best man. With a flourish he passed the ring to Kain, and we all held our breath as he slid it onto Sammy’s finger. Across from me were Lula and Francesca, Sammy’s bridesmaid and maid of honor, respectively.

  Lula had her attention on Sammy. But Fran . . . for a second she looked right at me. Even through her proud tears, she managed to frown. Time didn’t heal all wounds. Sometimes it made them worse.

  Everyone cheered as the pair climbed onto their horses—Kain assisting Sammy onto hers when her tight dress gave her trouble. They’d kissed before the rings, they’d kissed after, and they kissed again as they trotted their steeds down the aisle. Along with everyone else, I followed them to where the roses ended.

  A path opened in the crowd; I could see Scotch. Like a missile I homed in on her. Gently she swayed toward me, meeting me halfway. It felt intentional, and I ached to believe it was . . . that she wanted to be by my side just as furiously as I needed to be by hers. Our hands dangled, close to touching and never managing to make contact.

  That was when I noticed it—her eyes were glistening in the purple haze of oncoming night. She watched as Sammy and Kain kissed again, never breaking her stare. When they stormed off on their horses, she finally glanced up at me. Hastily she rubbed her eyes. “Sorry,” she laughed with a sniffle. “It’s just amazing to see that.”

  “See what?” I asked, hardly hearing myself over the cheers around us.

  “People in love.” For another second she watched the pair galloping around the field. As if she’d woken from a dream and become conscious of her own vulnerability, she slapped her cheeks and cleared her throat. “Ah! What’s with me? Weddings make everyone cry, don’t they?”

  I couldn’t have wanted to dig into her mind and understand what made her tick more than I did right then. “Sure,” I agreed, though I didn’t. I was proud for my brother, but I wasn’t crying. Not like she was—like the love of two strangers could mean so much.

  Lifting my head, I scanned the orange-gold grass. I needed to shield my eyes to spot my brother and his new wife circling back our way. They slowed as they approached, just enough to swing their horses together. Kain wrapped his fingers in her hair. He held her solidly, no doubt in his heart as he kissed the woman he loved.

  I wondered how that would feel.

  - CHAPTER TEN -

  SCOTCH

  Kain gave me a funny look. “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

  I nearly spit out my drink. I hadn’t seen him approaching as I hovered by the snack tables with his brothers. The reception was in full swing inside
the barn; I’d just started to get comfortable.

  “Us, met before?” I asked coyly. Of course we had, though the meeting had been brief. I’d seen Kain at the Dirty Dolls sparingly, which I was grateful for, because it meant he didn’t know for sure if he recognized me—and that helped me keep my voice calm. “I just have one of those faces. I’m Heather,” I said, shaking his hand with a sweet-as-pie smile.

  The grooves in his forehead didn’t vanish. Not until Sammy swished toward us; then his eyes were shining with pride, and I was a nobody again.

  “Hey, you,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “Hello, wife,” he growled playfully. Kain pulled her tight against him, kissing her deeply in spite of how many of us were crowded around. It went from a tender moment to an explicitly sexual one as he held her.

  Thorne coughed into his fist. “Save some for your honeymoon.”

  “I’ve got plenty for now and then,” he said, holding Sammy as she tried to wiggle free. She gave us all an apologetic look before he hid her with another make-out session.

  Kain palmed her ass, and that was when she shoved him off with her lips pursed. “All right, all right,” she laughed. “We have an audience!” She was burning red, but I could tell from her smile that she was secretly pleased.

  Scanning her gown, I said, “Your dress is beautiful.”

  “Oh, thanks!” Sammy trailed her fingertips over the beaded front and down to her satin-clad hips. “I was worried I wouldn’t finish it in time.”

  “You made it?” I gasped.

  Kain put his arm around her middle, hugging her against him. “Sammy’s the best in the business.”

  “Stop it,” she laughed. “I’ve got a long way to go to be the best.”

  She said it like she fully intended to become the best wedding dress maker out there. Looking her over with new appreciation, I realized I believed she would. Sammy had an aura that shone with self-confidence.

  Leaning closer, Kain winked pointedly at me, then looked up at Costello. “If you ever need a wedding dress, Sammy can get one ready for you in a day.”

  “I—I don’t think I’ll need anything like that,” I sputtered. As jittery as this topic made me, I was curious about how Costello was reacting. Peeking up at the silent man, I watched as he sipped his drink. He was so damn quiet . . . but were his fingers squeezing the glass just a bit harder than they had to?

  Sammy broke the silence. “Thanks for all the nice words,” she said, swishing her pleats. “Your dress is beautiful, too, actually. Where did you get it?”

  My fingers wrapped themselves in the rose-pink dress I was wearing. “It was a gift.” Being reminded that Costello had bought the figure-hugging outfit for me had my heart rumbling.

  “Well, it suits you.”

  “Yes,” Costello stated bluntly, “it does.”

  All of us startled. He’d remained silent, so him speaking up just to compliment me was as good as him shouting at the top of his lungs. Thorne covered his mouth, muttering, “Ah, fucking hell, brother.” Kain just smirked.

  A voice booming over the microphone saved me from any more awkwardness. “Could the bride and groom please come to the dance floor?”

  “That’s our cue,” Sammy said, her dress gliding over the rough floorboards. The pair approached the cleared section of the room. Music tinkled through the air. The lights dimmed romantically, everyone shushing one another. Sammy and Kain took each other’s hands, moving in a gentle circle.

  I sucked at dancing, so I was impressed by how easily they swayed together. They reminded me of synchronized dancers. Kain swept her up and turned it into a deep back bend. Grinning, he kissed her neck and her mouth, and the room thundered with applause and whistles.

  Their first dance over, the vibe shifted as a song with more energy blasted from the speakers. Couples moved into place, jumping and laughing as they showed off their skills.

  Their love for each other.

  My neck burned; Mama Badd was watching me. She kept flicking her fingers, a sort of “Go on, get going” gesture. She made her intentions obvious, and I appreciated that, because if I was honest with myself, I wanted to get on that dance floor. I wanted to be as close to Costello as Sammy had been with Kain.

  It was an entirely stupid urge. Thanks, third glass of wine.

  “Come on,” I said, reaching out for Costello with a half smile. “Let’s dance. Everyone expects us to.”

  He’d been staring out over the crowd. We were alone; Thorne had slid off at some point to bump and grind with a redhead in the corner. “You’re sure?” he asked, still not looking at me.

  Shrugging sheepishly, I said, “I mean, unless you don’t want to.”

  He set his glass down on the snack table. That was when I realized it was empty. Had he been pretending to drink this whole time? My wonderment was renewed when he linked his fingers with my own. “Okay,” he said to me. “Let’s go.”

  My heart flickered like a candle with a new wick. He pulled me onto the dance floor . . . he spun me against his body . . . and I became a bonfire. Within seconds of his holding me as he moved over the hardwood floor, I realized our skills were unevenly matched. “Wait,” I laughed nervously, “I’m not actually good at dancing. Let’s just do that lazy rock-together move, you know?”

  “Shh,” he whispered, fixing me with a look that had me swallowing my tongue. At least it tasted good—like red wine. How would Costello taste? “Let me lead.”

  I’d been letting him lead me since last night. What an easy request.

  He spun us around the crowd, a man who moved like he was dodging bullets. I went along, his strength half carrying me through the steps and making me look way better at this than I’d ever look on my own.

  He’s so warm, I thought, staring up into his eyes. When he smiled, my stomach did a cartwheel. All day my goal had been to bury these crazy feelings. I was lusting for a man who kept giving me mixed signals . . . but his words had been clear.

  Last night was an accident.

  And what if, this time, the accident was bigger between us?

  And what if I didn’t care?

  “You’re very red,” he whispered into my ear.

  That only made my body flush more. “It’s the lighting,” I lied. “That’s all.”

  “Mn.” It was a simple sound. The agility of his fingers down my spine was anything but simple. He touched me with ease, possessive and free-flowing, until I lost my sense of direction.

  I didn’t care which way I went.

  As long as it was down. With him.

  He’s not smiling anymore. I’d been transfixed by his lips. The corners were all shadow, as mysterious as him. They moved, the single shape not an H for Heather but an S for Scotch. He never said either name, because I’d stood up enough to close the gap and finally feel his mouth.

  He tasted like water; he hadn’t had a drop of anything stronger all night. Costello was sober and straight in his decisions. He knew exactly what he was doing. His hands caught me around my middle, feeling up the dress he’d bought for me.

  Around us came enthusiastic applause. Someone whistled sharply; I pulled away enough to see it was Kain. Every single person in that barn was smiling.

  All but Thorne.

  He stared at us from the open bar. I was sure his cup didn’t contain water. He knows what we’re doing is drawing too much attention. The hands on me went slack—had Costello realized what his brother had? Just as I expected him to break away, Costello dug back in.

  “Come with me,” he hissed, forcing me through the sea of bodies and away from the noise. I hadn’t seen him so focused since he’d helped me escape the Dirty Dolls.

  Out under the black sky, Costello led me over the cedar-chip trail. One of us stumbled; instead of regaining our balance, he yanked me onto the ground. Breathing hotly in my ear he curled his fingers over my spine, then my ass. The dress came up high; there was dirt on my knees, and I was fine with that.

 
“Kiss me,” he demanded, doing it before I could. “I want you so fucking badly. I’m taking you back to our room. Right now. Do you understand me?”

  Costello looked into my eyes. I caught the way he was pleading with me, a man so eager to make me his, but so conflicted in the desire he could no longer fight. “Last night . . . you said it was an accident,” I panted, still catching my breath.

  “It was.” His irises were glowing. “One I want to repeat.”

  - CHAPTER ELEVEN -

  SCOTCH

  Men who do dirty deeds shouldn’t taste so clean. It was like kissing a rushing river or pressing my lips to the side of a mountain: flavorless if I didn’t think too hard about it. It gave me the idea that Costello didn’t want to be remembered and that this wish had sunk deep into his skin.

  But I was stripping away every hope he had of ever being forgotten.

  I did it with my lips on his, with my hands clawing up his back and tugging at the seams of his well-fitted vest. Recording his smell, his taste, his everything was my new job, and I did it with gusto.

  I’d never let him slip from my mind.

  No matter what.

  “Scotch,” he growled against my ear. The sound spun through me until my insides became cotton candy. All pretense of calling me by any other name was over. “Fucking hell, Scotch.”

  “What is it?” I breathed, fighting to make sense of his tone. He’d said my name like a question, with a little uptick at the end.

  The hallway lights outside our room were bright enough to trick you into thinking it wasn’t late at night. The wedding was still roaring outside; I could hear it through the thin walls and thinner windows that the owners called “rustic.”

  Under that white glow, Costello’s eyes were clouded. He dropped his gaze to my chest. It made me blush like a reckless teen on prom night. “If we go in there,” he said slowly, “I won’t stop this. I won’t try to hold back any longer.”