Crown of Thornes : a modern day royal romance

by Delaney Foster

  My body ached for him, but I swallowed hard and forced away the need. “I’d rather just take your word for it.”

  That was a lie. I wanted him to do everything he said and more—just not while the whole world was watching.

  He laughed against my neck then lifted his head to look me in the eyes. “You’re a horrible liar.” He took my hand then led me down the hall.

  The redhead was already in the room when we walked in. Dozens of tiny humans sat in a circle on a colorful rug filled with letters of the alphabet. From the back of the room, a happy song rang out from a speaker.

  Sutton’s eyes lit up the second he stepped through the door. “Hey guys. I brought someone to meet you.”

  The kids jumped up from their spots and ran toward him, wrapping their little arms around his legs and waist, nearly knocking him over. He tousled their hair and patted their backs, and the smile never left his beautiful face.

  “I know we just read this story last week, but Katie hasn’t heard it, so do you think we could read it again?”

  The children answered in a collective, “Yesssss.”

  Then they took their spots around the carpet with Sutton sitting in the middle. I sat in a chair on the other side of the room, watching and listening—and falling in love—as the most amazing man I’d ever known read me a story about a boy, a lion… and a little sheep.

  “Do you get it now?” he asked when we finally left the center.

  I hooked my arm around his and leaned my head against his shoulder. “I get it now.”

  We walked the sidewalk all the way into the city square. Once in a while, someone would stop and stare. More often than that, people acknowledged us with a slight bow of their head. Only a few people ever spoke, though.

  I was wrong. Even in jeans and a T-shirt, Sutton looked every bit the part of a king.

  We passed the coffee shop where I used to sit with Mama and plot surprise birthday parties for Dad. Sutton turned to go inside, dragging me with him. The familiar warm scent and inviting feeling washed over me as soon as we stepped inside. Women chatted over tables, holding their cell phones in front of them and sharing images, I assumed. A man typed away on his laptop while sipping coffee and picking away tiny bites of a large blueberry muffin. A barista called out names over the counter while espresso machines buzzed and whirred beside her.

  I looked up at Sutton as we waited at the end of a long line that he could have easily walked straight to the front of. “What are you doing?”

  His grin made my heart melt. “Giving you normal.”

  A woman not much younger than me stood in line in front of us. She turned at the sound of Sutton’s voice. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open. She nodded in a quick bow as though it suddenly dawned on her that she was standing before royalty. I doubted seeing a king in line at a coffee shop was an everyday occurrence. I also doubted much of the world knew about King Phillipe’s death yet. If they did, no one spoke of it. To them, Sutton was still just a prince.

  Just a prince.

  Sutton was never just anything.

  She held up her cell phone. “Do you mind if I get a picture?”

  He smiled and pulled me close. “Of course not.”

  I shoved at his side. “Oh no. I’m not… I think she meant just you—”

  He pinned me with that intense gaze that made it nearly impossible to challenge him, even though that was exactly what every single part of me itched to do. Before I could open my mouth, he nodded toward the woman with the camera phone. “Smile.”

  Chatter buzzed around us as the woman snapped our picture. Flashes went off in the distance.

  She bounced on her toes and immediately started typing into her phone. “This is so awesome.”

  From behind us someone else said, “Katarina Bellizzi and Sutton Thorne. What a fucking power couple.”

  Who were these people? How did they know my name?

  I suddenly wanted nothing more than to be back at the castle, tucked away in Sutton’s arms. As if he read my thoughts, he circled his arm around my waist and pulled me to his chest. He brought his mouth to the top of my head, placing a gentle kiss there.

  “We can leave,” he offered.

  I nodded.

  He took my hand and guided me to the exit. Right as we reached the door, a man stopped us, blocking the way out.

  “It’s about fucking time you put a Bellizzi on the throne. Too bad your father couldn’t see it.”

  Sutton tucked my head into his chest and barged straight past the man blocking the door.

  So much for normal.

  Twenty-Seven

  The next several days seemed to drag on for an eternity. The only time I saw Sutton was at night when he slipped under my covers long after I’d fallen asleep. During the day, he was swarmed with his duties as the new sovereign. The world now knew of King Phillipe’s death. For the past two days, his body rested in St. Leo’s Cathedral surrounded by the Royal Navy so that the public could pay their respects. The lulling ebb and flow of the waves from the sea stilled. The birds outside my bedroom window ceased to sing. Sadness lingered in the air, heavy and thick. Our nation publicly mourned the loss of such a kind-hearted king. Every day, outside the castle gates, the guards kept watch as hundreds and hundreds of people brought flowers and lit candles along the outer walls. Some cried. Others prayed. Sutton was silent. Watching the outpouring of love and respect being shown to King Phillipe made it hard to believe there was an army of people who had been gleefully waiting for this day.

  No one had heard a word from Keaton since the day Antonio escorted him out of the east gate then took his place as the lead House Guard. In a way, his silence calmed me. In other ways, it made my stomach churn. Keaton wasn’t the type to stay quiet.

  After the day at the coffee shop, I decided going into Valetta might not be the best idea for now. No matter how much I wanted normal, I was sleeping with the king, and that was about as far away from normal as it got. I’d asked Sutton one night after he pounded my brains out with soul-shattering sex what he thought the man at the coffee shop meant when he said it was about time he put a Bellizzi on the throne. Sutton dusted his lips over my temple and whispered in my ear. “It means you’re mine. You were made for me. You were always meant to be mine.”

  The picture of us that the woman took ended up on a celebrity gossip blog, which only prompted a string of text messages from Chelsea.

  Chelsea: I knew you were fucking him!

  Chelsea: You dirty hooker. *purple devil face emoji*

  Chelsea: Is he big? *eggplant emoji*

  Chelsea: Do you ride his beard and call him Daddy? *water droplet emoji*

  Sutton didn’t have a beard. He had day-old stubble. And I rode it like I stole it.

  Me: When was the last time you got laid? You have way too much invested in my sex life.

  Chelsea: *middle finger emoji*

  I invited her to the castle for a beach day next week. Of course, she happily agreed. Champagne glass and bikini emojis and all.

  Without Sutton popping up every five minutes and caging me against a wall, my days in the castle were pretty boring. The library was lonely, and the mood in the kitchen was solemn. The whole castle was solemn. It was quiet before, but now it was just… sad. No wonder Sutton hated being king. There was so much grief wrapped around wearing the crown.

  I pulled a batch of vanilla-flavored cupcakes from the oven and set them on the kitchen island. Madeline plucked apples from a bushel basket and cut the core out of them one at a time. “I shouldn’t have told you about the date,” she said, not looking me in the eyes.

  Mrs. Fletcher walked by, wiping her hands on her apron and clearing her throat.

  I reached for Madeline’s hand, but she pulled it away. I blinked away the shock and rejection. “I don’t care about the date anymore. Did I do something wrong?”

  Madeline stared at the ground, silent. I grabbed the mixing bowl full of buttercream icing I made and started fros
ting my cupcakes.

  Mrs. Fletcher turned on the faucet behind me and began washing apples. “No, dear. She’s simply apologizing for involving you in royal gossip.”

  Apologizing? To me? Why? Madeline gossiped all the time. The whole kitchen did. No one ever apologized before.

  I looked at Madeline, staring at her until she was compelled to meet my gaze. “I don’t need an apology.”

  Madeline bent to grab another apple. “He’s very protective of you, you know,” she said. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  Mrs. Fletcher shut off the faucet and glared over her shoulder. She shook the excess water from her hands then grabbed a small towel. “Madeline. That’s enough.”

  Why did I feel like I should be the one apologizing?

  There is no date.

  Oh, so now everyone in the kitchen is a liar?

  “Oh God. I’m so sorry…”

  Mrs. Fletcher placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry for, dear. We all knew better.”

  Right as I coated the spatula in icing, a strong arm wrapped around me, his hand covering mine as his hard body pressed against my back. His scent was unmistakable, masculine and rich. I wanted to melt into him, but I was too furious to submit.

  I spun around and met his eyes with a glare. “What did you do?”

  Madeline’s very audible gasp echoed in the uncharacteristically quiet kitchen. Sutton tilted his head to the side. “Something on your mind, little sheep?”

  “Did you say something to them?”

  Or do something to them?

  He straightened his head then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his suit. Suit Sutton was every bit as sexy as Jeans and T-shirt Sutton. “You mean the people who chose gossip over respect? Yes. They’re gone.”

  Annoyance and frustration tore at my stomach. I clamped my lips shut and exhaled an agitated breath through my nose. I was a hot mess while he appeared as calm and casual as the first day I met him. Right here. Making these same cupcakes with this same icing. He must have recognized that at the same time I did because his lips curved into a cocky smirk. A familiar heat simmered between us, making me almost forget what it was like to challenge Sutton Thorne.

  I narrowed my eyes and tipped my chin. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

  He took a step forward, his powerful frame looming over mine. Then he placed his hands on the island behind me, caging me in. Madeline and Mrs. Fletcher gracefully exited the kitchen. I didn’t blame them. Sutton was intimidating this way. If I weren’t so turned on by his presence, I might be afraid. A hungry spark danced in his dark eyes. His gaze traveled down my body then back up, stopping on my lips then upward to meet my eyes. “There’s a reason you don’t see the staff wandering the halls of the castle. There’s a reason we don’t invite them for brunch or to play fucking chess on the back lawn. There are people out there who will sell your soul for a dime and not think twice about it. If you’re going to be queen, this is the kind of shit you need to know.”

  “What did you just say?”

  “Nothing.” He pushed off of the island and took a step back. “You have to stop believing I’m the bad guy, Katie. I just want to protect you.”

  I never believed Sutton was the bad guy. But I did see the darkness that sometimes slipped through the cracks. I recognized it because in a twisted, broken way, it matched my own.

  I moved forward and traced my fingers down the length of his tie. “I know.”

  I want to protect you too. The difference was that the person I was protecting Sutton from was himself.

  “Good. Now come to my room so I can show you the real reason I came.”

  Katie’s eyes grew wide the second she spotted the long blue gown splayed over my bed. “You bought me a dress?”

  You call it a dress. I call it foreplay.

  The neckline plunged into a sexy fucking “V” that her tits would make look spectacular. The entire gown was a thin layer of silk covered in lace, and I made sure it would hug her body like a glove. My dick was hard just thinking about her in that dress.

  She lifted the gown from my bed and held it up for inspection. “Are we going somewhere?”

  I stepped behind her and placed a hand on each of her hips. Jesus, her ass drove me crazy. “It’s for my coronation. The day after tomorrow.”

  “Your what?”

  I nuzzled my face in the slender curve of her neck and pressed my cock between her cheeks. “It’s an event in which I’m officially crowned king of Torryn.”

  She sucked in a breath then leaned her head back against my chest. I wanted to mark her throat with my teeth. “I know what a coronation is. I just thought it was next month.”

  “Because that’s what I want everyone to believe.” I slid my hands over her hips and around to her front, bunching up the fabric of her short little sundress with my fingers. “While the gazelles are busy thinking and plotting, the lion has been running.”

  She whimpered when my fingertips skimmed the top of her panties. How long had it been since I’d tasted her? If my mouth was dry, it was too fucking long.

  “I don’t even want to know what that means,” she said.

  The public thinks my official coronation is next month. The rebels think during that time the throne will be empty, that it will be their chance to swoop in and steal it. It won’t.

  Katie picked up the dress and eyed it one final time before laying it carefully back on my bed. Bad idea, little sheep. Unless she didn’t mind me fucking her on top of it.

  She spun to face me. Her fingers played with my tie while she looked up at me with eyes that were anything but innocent. “You want me to wear that to your coronation?”

  “I do.”

  “In front of other people?”

  “Very few people, but yes. That’s the plan.”

  She successfully unknotted my tie and tossed it to the side then began working on the buttons of my shirt. You’re playing with fire, and I’m about to burn you alive. “Okay. On one condition.”

  When did she start calling the fucking shots?

  I arched a brow to humor her. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and continued. “Hire back all the kitchen staff.”

  And there went the cold water.

  “No fucking way.”

  She narrowed her eyes, and it was cute how she thought she had a chance at winning this battle. “It wasn’t their fault. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

  They fucked with something that belonged to me. They made you believe I wanted someone else.

  “Are you shitting me right now?”

  She dropped her hands, leaving my buttons—and any chance I had of bending her over this bed and fucking her raw—abandoned. “I overheard a conversation that wasn’t meant for me. One of the men asked where to put the table and another employee explained the situation. Simple as that. No one was gossiping. Hire them back.”

  I scrubbed a hand over my face because… fuck. This woman was killing me. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because then I look indecisive and weak.”

  I wasn’t indecisive… or weak.

  She pursed her lips, and I was tempted to lean forward and pull the bottom one between my teeth. “Then I’m not wearing the dress.”

  “Good. Go naked. Better for me.”

  She growled.

  Nothing about Katie was easy, but every single fucking thing was worth fighting for. I would hold her hand and walk through hell a thousand times for one moment in her heaven.

  I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear then ran the front of my finger down her face. “I’m not hiring them back. And you’re wearing the dress.” Her body leaned into mine, conceding the fight she was never going to win anyway. So, I grabbed her hips and pulled her against me. “Next time you want to piss me off, don’t use innocent people as your weapon.” I brought my mouth to her
s, letting my tongue part her lips, and I devoured her until she was a moaning, sagging mess in my arms. Then I fucked her on top of a pile of silk and lace.

  My father’s body was hauled on a wooden carriage from St. Leo’s to the royal mausoleum, where he was placed in a vault surrounded by candles and flowers.

  Mom was the first to leave. The grief had broken her. She even apologized to Katie for trying to intervene. Royals never apologized.

  Katie looked up at me as I said my final goodbye. “They say you die twice. Once when you take your last breath and again the last time someone mentions your name.” She cupped my face in her hands and kissed my lips. Nothing passionate. Not the brutal, possessive kisses we were used to. This one was meant to soothe, to comfort. “I promise I won’t let your dad die twice.”

  I had no fucking clue what love was or how it felt, but in this moment, I was certain I was pretty damn close.

  We left the tomb and made our way to the Town Car waiting outside the gate. A group of men watched silently as we passed. I recognized Jonathon Cirillo immediately. He stood with his hands in his pockets and a shit-eating smirk plastered across his ugly face. Keaton was at his side. Figures.

  “So, it’s true.” Jonathon smirked as Katie walked past him. “You really are sleeping with the enemy.”

  These assholes really wanted to do this here? Now? At my father’s funeral?

  I was about to make him look like the poster child for bad plastic surgery when Keaton grabbed Katie’s arm and yanked her against him. My eyes caught the flash of a sharp silver blade at her side. Rage boiled in my blood, hot and swift. Fuck witnesses. I was about to murder this motherfucker. His first mistake was touching her. His second was thinking he was going to hurt her.

  “What? You’re going to kill me now?” Katie asked as she struggled to fight her way out of his grip.

  He looked at her with a twisted mix of hatred and lust. What a fucking psychopath. “If I wanted you dead, I would’ve killed you a long time ago.”