Royal Chase (The Royals of Monterra)

by Sariah Wilson

  “You’re not supposed to,” he said before his mouth returned to mine.

  All those girls in my sorority who had talked time and time again about the earth moving and time stopping had annoyed me. I had never understood what they were trying to explain, until that very moment. Because the earth most definitely moved, and time most definitely stopped.

  There was only me and Dante.

  He broke off the kiss, and I opened my eyes to see him staring at me, the desire in his eyes unmistakable. We were both breathing hard as we looked at each other. Why had he stopped? My body urged me forward, wanting me to keep kissing him. My lips literally tingled in anticipation.

  “Limone, come upstairs with me.”

  Chapter 12

  Had a dirty dream about you last night. You got stuck in the castle moat and were tracking mud everywhere. What? What did you think I meant?

  There was no mistaking what he meant, or what he wanted. My heart beat even faster, and more intently.

  It was what I wanted, too.

  “Yes.”

  It was all he needed. He stood up and then pulled me to my feet. He kissed me again, his hands flat against my back, holding me close. I held on to his shoulders, excited and happy.

  He stopped long enough to take me over to one of the elevators. He pushed the button a bunch of times. “Come on, come on,” he muttered.

  I giggled and couldn’t help but kiss his shoulder. That made him hoist me up, holding me so that our faces were level. He kissed me again and I loved his strength and masculinity and I wanted to thank whoever had taught him to kiss like that.

  Laughter came from somewhere behind us, and I turned to see a group of costumed men pointing and laughing.

  At us.

  I realized how ridiculous we must have looked, in our costumes, my hoop skirt flipped up in the back as he held me.

  When I saw myself the way others could see me, my mouth filled with a sourness and disgust.

  I had just finished making plans and promises to change, and here I was. Doing the exact same thing I always did.

  Again.

  “Stop.”

  Confusion on his face. “What is it?’

  I pushed against him. “Put me down. Now.”

  Stepping away from him, I buried my face in my hands. I was a mess. I was always going to be a mess if I didn’t stop the pattern. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep making the same mistake over and over again.”

  I felt bad, I would find someone who would make me feel good, and then I would feel even worse when it was over. I would feel numb and hollow. Something had to change. Something had to give.

  That something was me.

  He looked shocked. I was sure he had no idea what was going on. I didn’t know how to explain it to him, but I at least owed him that.

  “I won’t be pathetic and desperate,” I told him. “I won’t be the kind of girl that people laugh at for all the stupid things she keeps doing.”

  “This isn’t like that.”

  “Isn’t it? Isn’t it exactly like that?” I gestured to where the men had been a moment before. My self-loathing was quickly turning to anger, and I started to take it out on him. “I mean, part of me thinks I should just sleep with you so you’ll leave me alone. Because that’s what this is about, right? The conquest? What was it you told me in your club? ‘Men only want what they can’t have.’”

  The elevator doors dinged as they opened, and we both turned to look, but we didn’t stop them from closing again.

  He finally spoke. “Limone, you can’t mean that.”

  “I do mean it! I don’t want this. I want it to matter. I want to be in love with the next person I sleep with. I want to be with the man that I’ll spend the rest of my life with. And you . . .” I let out a short bark of laughter. “You’re are most definitely not the kind of man I’ll end up with.”

  His expression was as stunned as if I had just slapped him. “Why would you say that?”

  “Look at you! Do you take anything in your life seriously? You’ve had the world handed to you on a platter, and are you grateful for it? I’ve seen the articles online. I know what you’re like.”

  “What I’m like?” He finally got angry.

  “You are such a womanizer! And you are never going to have a career.”

  “Being a prince is a career.” His words were terse, like he was trying to keep his anger in check. I noticed he didn’t deny the womanizer part.

  “In fairy tales! You could get an actual job. You could be working for something instead of partying it up in your castle every night with a different girl.”

  My anger finally spent itself, and I felt sick at the look on his face. “I can’t believe you’re saying this,” he said.

  I couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to say it to him. I should have said it the second I saw him for who he really was.

  “I want to be with someone who will be my partner and my equal. Who wants to work hard for what they want in life. Who is faithful and loyal to one woman. Someone who doesn’t think that monogamy is a tree.”

  It all felt very final. Finished.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened, I’m sorry I led you on. But I’m done. This is done.”

  Another long silence stretched between us. He put his hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor. “You’re leaving tomorrow and . . .”

  “And it’s for the best. Good-bye, Dante.” The pain on his face when he looked up at me was almost unbearable. It even managed to make me cry. I told myself that he was an excellent actor. He was a player. He knew just how to pull at my heartstrings.

  But I wouldn’t let him play me any longer.

  I pushed the button, and the elevator doors opened. The tears fell fast and furious, and it blurred my vision. I got inside, watching him as the doors slid shut, closing off that chapter in my life.

  I had no intention of ever seeing him again.

  He, on the other hand, had other plans.

  I found out later that when everyone had disappeared from the costume party, it was because they were staging an impromptu intervention for Princess Violetta, Dante’s eighteen-year-old sister. Which made me feel even worse. He was dealing with something serious like his sister using drugs again, and I was having a hissy fit about my stupid choices.

  Sometimes I didn’t understand why he stayed my friend.

  Kat had had her own drama on New Year’s Eve with Nico, and so my focus had been totally on her and her problems. It was a good distraction. Kat had asked me once what had happened with Dante, and I’d told her that we had a close encounter of the catastrophic kind. I didn’t elaborate on our gland-to-gland combat, and she didn’t ask, too wrapped up in her own misery.

  Now, here in California, I was the one who was miserable, with Dante making that crack about being my hero. It was to remind me, to let me know that he hadn’t forgotten, and neither should I.

  As if I could.

  Overly emotional Jen L. was sent home that night, and the next day we had another group date.

  Soccer. Or as Dante would mistakenly call it, football.

  I hated playing sports. I was not a fan of glistening, which was what we called sweat back home. Once upon a time, I hadn’t minded it, but ever since I gave up ballet, I’d avoided unnecessary exertion. I didn’t like hiking or throwing things or catching them.

  I put on a pair of tennis shoes, shorts, and a T-shirt. Half of the girls came out in sports bras and shorts that looked more like underwear. I didn’t understand dressing so impractically. But I wasn’t the one who’d be embarrassed when something sprang free.

  Genesis’s hair kept flying out of the rubber band she used to hold it back. I offered to French braid her hair to keep it down, and she agreed. In the middle of doing that, some of the others asked if I could French braid their hair too.

  Dante arrived on the field that the show had set up in the backyard with goals and lines. The girls called out a gre
eting to him, and he waved as he walked over.

  It was easier to control my physical reaction, because I was annoyed at him. Only a small heart murmuring this time.

  “So the den mother now does hair.”

  Den mother? I was hot. I was not a den mother.

  I wrapped the last elastic at the bottom of Jessica T.’s hair, and she left, giving Dante a lingering and flirtatious look. I would not roll my eyes.

  “Part of the pageant thing. You learn how to do hair pretty quickly.” I didn’t have a brush, so the hairstyles didn’t look as nice as I would have preferred, but they were going to be running around so it didn’t matter.

  “Always taking care of everyone else,” he mused. “Who takes care of you?”

  I shrugged.

  “I would, if you’d let me.” He ran out onto the field and started kicking the ball around with the women as they decided on teams.

  What was I supposed to do with that? He sounded serious, but I knew he wasn’t. Right then, he was flirting with tons of other girls. He managed to confuse me, give me false hope, and make me wish for things that just wouldn’t be.

  Even if his offer to take care of me had been legit, I needed to take care of myself. I needed to protect my heart from him.

  It was time for the match to begin. The show had even sprung for a referee. I was put on the pink team versus Dante’s purple team, and we wore bands on our arms to tell everyone apart. I couldn’t believe we were playing soccer. It was like a soul-crushing wade through a river of misery. How did anyone think this was fun?

  I was glistening more than I wanted, and sort of moved back and forth instead of trying to actively play. Genesis was on Dante’s team, and she was killing it. She scored so many points that they called the game before it got much more embarrassing. Dante high-fived her, and she hugged him. He glanced over at me with a shame-filled expression, before disengaging from her.

  That was weird. I thought he liked Genesis.

  I found some shade and wished for water. I was too tired to get up and walk back to the house to get it. Some assistants were setting up a table, putting a tablecloth over it, and I hoped they were putting out food and water.

  Genesis joined me. “Good game.”

  “You had a good game. I had a minor stroke.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t know he was so good at soccer. Kind of impressive.”

  “Everybody in Europe is good at soccer. He’s nothing special.”

  Ashley S. strolled past right then and stopped to glare at me. She put her hand on her hip and said, “Why are you still here if you dislike Dante so much? There are lots of us here who do like him, and we’re getting sent home while he keeps you around. If you aren’t here for the right reasons, why don’t you just step aside?”

  Right then I was tempted to do exactly what she had said. I would just leave. Then there would be no more temptation, no more Dante, and no more putting up with these women.

  And I would go back home to . . . what exactly? Things were not great with Sterling, and I was peeved that he still hadn’t tried to reach me to apologize. He should apologize, and he should suffer a little for it.

  I didn’t think he even missed me.

  I was too tired to come up with a retort to Ashley. She could suck it.

  After I didn’t reply, she walked away.

  “Do you think maybe she has a point? You don’t seem like you like him all that much.” I could tell how hard it was for Genesis to say that to me. I had the impression that she didn’t like conflict, and it must have taken a lot for her to confront me.

  “It’s hard to explain, but I promise I will fill you in on all the details someday. And how could I leave you? Somebody has to stay here and be your bodyguard against Crabigail.”

  She gave me a weak smile, but I had the distinct feeling that this was not over. “I’m going to get a bottle of water. Want one?”

  “Yes, please. I would love one,” I said.

  She brushed the grass off her shorts and went inside.

  Dante was on his phone, off standing by himself. I thought I glimpsed Marco in the bushes behind him, but I couldn’t be sure. He was like a stealth ninja. I wondered if Marco had been around when we were out at the gazebo. That was more than a little disconcerting, to imagine that we had been watched the whole time.

  Although, how could I be upset about that? I was being watched around the clock thanks to those cameras.

  Dante saw me looking at him, and he walked over to me, still on his phone. He was speaking in Italian, and finished up his conversation. He slid his phone into his shirt pocket.

  “Totally unfair,” I complained. “How come you get your phone?”

  “I’m not allowed to call family or friends. This phone will only dial the numbers that have been programmed into it. I told the show that I needed it because I was near the end of a deal that might fall apart if I couldn’t make phone calls.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  I noticed that he didn’t look at me. “I’m building a club.”

  “Like a ‘no girls allowed’ thing?”

  He let out a short laugh. “No, a nightclub.”

  Wait, what? “A nightclub? When did this happen?”

  Now he looked directly at me, all intensity and hotness, and I practically fell over. I blamed the dehydration.

  “New Year’s Eve. When you talked about the kind of man that I was, I realized you were right about one thing. I hadn’t ever tried very hard at anything because I didn’t have to. I knew I’d never have to get a job, and there are a lot of responsibilities that come from being part of a royal family, so I figured, what was the point of doing something else?”

  I had been so terrible to him that night. It was more about me than it was about him. I started to apologize, but he kept talking as he searched through the grass and pulled up a clover. “No one had ever spoken to me that way before, and it changed everything for me. I looked at what I was good at, what I enjoyed. I love putting together mixes, but there aren’t a lot of DJ princes.”

  “There’s the Fresh Prince,” I said, stunned by what he was saying.

  He smiled. “I don’t think he’s an actual prince. Anyway, I decided to open a nightclub in Monterra. I’m using some of my trust fund and money from investors. We’re hopeful that if it does well we can franchise it across Europe. I’m calling it ‘Inferno.’”

  “I see what you did there. Dante’s Inferno. Literary humor. I like it.” I echoed his words back at him, and all the annoyance and animosity I had been feeling had somehow just dissipated as he laughed.

  When his laughter subsided, he reached over and squeezed my hand. He said, “Limone, you were the first person to ever really challenge me. You made me want to be a better man. Thank you for that.”

  What on earth was I supposed to say to that? My chest swelled up and I felt giddy and excited and amazed and touched and shocked and . . .

  Won over.

  It was one of the things that had always bothered me about him. I was from a rich family, but I wanted to work hard. I didn’t have much respect for people who didn’t care about doing their best and used their parents’ money to coast through life.

  Now he was building his own nightclub. A possible franchise.

  Had he done it for me?

  My heartbeat was up in my throat. I was so glad he couldn’t read minds. I couldn’t settle on one thought or one feeling. My brain jumped like a frog on crack, too bewildered to make sense of his announcement.

  It didn’t change everything.

  But it did change some things.

  “Any advice before I go ‘once more unto the breach’?” He was the only man I knew who quoted dead playwrights.

  “With the girls? Go talk to them. Act like you’re really listening and interested in what they’re saying. Women love that.”

  “And here I was wasting my time buying them jewels and flying them to Paris.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh as h
e walked off and started a conversation with Emily F.

  Genesis returned with our water and handed one to me. It was cold and perfect and I thanked her.

  “That looked serious,” she said.

  I didn’t really respond to what she’d observed. I didn’t want to explain. That moment had been between Dante and me, and wasn’t anyone else’s business. Even hers.

  “Sorry about earlier. I was feeling a little depressed.”

  “Know what helps with that?”

  “If you say exercise, I will punch you.”

  “I was going to say chocolate and Valium, but exercise really does help.”

  Abigail chose that moment to slither past and stopped in front of us. “Do you mind if I join you?’’

  I did, on so many different levels and at a staggering intensity.

  But before I could tell her to get lost, Dante announced that he had set up a sundae bar for everyone. The table was loaded with all kinds of ice cream flavors, with whipped cream, fudge, caramel, bananas, nuts, anything and everything you could think of to make ice cream taste even better.

  Finally, something besides Dante that made my mouth water. Nothing sounded better than ice cream on a hot and glisten-y day like this one.

  He might as well have put out bowls of cyanide and arsenic, though, given the women’s reactions. He looked let down. I was sure he had thought this would be a sweet gesture and that the girls would enjoy it.

  “Any woman with even a smidgen of self-respect would never put such poison in her body. It says she doesn’t care about herself,” Abigail announced loudly, projecting her voice so that everyone would hear.

  I had a brief fantasy of force-feeding Abigail ice cream, one scoop at a time, before deciding to help myself. I grabbed a bowl and made a show of filling it up with chocolate marshmallow and cookies-and-cream flavored ice cream. I put some whipped cream on top and managed to spray some on my hand before I got it in my bowl. I licked the excess off of my fingers, and caught Dante’s gaze.

  The way he looked at me made my heart stop.