Accidentally Royal_An Accidental Marriage Romance

by R. S. Lively

  She looks at me for a long moment and I'm convinced she's going to say no. But then she smiles.

  “I'd love to.”

  We step back out onto the main floor and start to head out for the evening.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  Darby is unusually quiet in the car. She just sits and looks out the window, an inscrutable look on her face. I hadn't pushed to that point, preferring to let her speak in her own due time, but I can't take it anymore and need to know what she's thinking.

  “What's on your mind, Darby?”

  She looks at me. “What makes you think anything's on my mind?”

  I give her a small smile. “Because I know you,” I say. “And I can tell that something's bothering you.”

  She lets out a long breath and I can see her debating with herself. She's wrestling with a decision in her own head.

  “Whatever it is, it's okay,” I say. “You can tell me anything.”

  “I know,” she replies. “I'm just trying to decide whether or not this is something even worth telling you.”

  “Well, let's figure that out together,” I say. “What is it?”

  She leans back in the seat and sighs again. Whatever it is, it's weighing heavy on her mind. And I hate that she won't let me help her shoulder that burden.

  “It's just – Mason,” she says.

  “Oh,” I reply. “Him again.”

  “Yeah. Him again.”

  “He came to see me, you know,” I say. “Shortly after that picture of us showed up in the tabloids.”

  “I'm not surprised.”

  “Made all the same old threats,” I tell her. “Pops is going to prison unless I stop seeing you, blah, blah, blah.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  I chuckle. “I'm here with you tonight, aren't I?”

  A wry grin touches her lips. “Yeah, I suppose you are.”

  “I told him to fuck off if he thinks he can pull that shit again,” I say. “I'm not going to make the same goddamn mistake twice.”

  “What about Pops?”

  “I had a long talk with him,” I tell her. “Asked him all about his past and asked him, point blank, if he ever killed anybody. He said no, and I believe him. I've got a good built-in bullshit detector and I am absolutely convinced Pops was telling me the truth.”

  Darby lets out a soft, sad sounding chuckle. “That's kind of funny, because Mason not only told me that Pops murdered people when he was a mob boss, but also said there was a rumor going around that you may have killed somebody too. On Pops' behalf, of course.”

  The righteous anger flares up inside of me for a moment, but it's gone just as quickly. In its place is a feeling of almost pity for her brother. His grip on his sister, that iron collar of control he had is slipping. And he knows it. The only way he can try to regain that control is by telling her all kinds of bullshit stories about me.

  My biggest worry is that she believes them. Though, that could explain why she's seemed off all evening. She's debating with herself whether or not to believe them. Which sticks a small needle of pain in my heart. She should know me better than that.

  “You believe him?” I ask. “Think I killed people?”

  “No, of course not,” she says. “I mean, I really doubt it.”

  A rueful laugh bubbles up and out of my throat. “There's a universe of difference between, of course not, and really doubting it.”

  “It's just – there are still parts of you I don't know. You have secrets,” I say. “And I know you have a temper.”

  I nod. “That's true,” I say. “I do have secrets. As do we all. And I have a wicked temper. Never denied that. But, I've been nothing but open and honest with you, Darby.”

  She looks at me. “I believe that.”

  My eyes bore into hers and I hold her gaze steady. “Then believe me when I tell you that I have never, ever, killed anybody,” I say. “Not for Pops, not for anybody. I won't deny that I've had my fair share of fights and I've got a temper. But, I've never killed anybody.”

  I can see her searching my eyes, searching for the truth. Darby is a hell of a lot more perceptive – and a hell of a lot less naïve – than Mason will ever give her credit for. If there's anybody who can sniff the truth out of somebody's words, who can see into their heart, it's Darby. And I know that she'll see and hear, the truth in what I'm telling her.

  “Pops got by on a rep he didn't earn. People thought he killed people, and he let them. Like the kids today say, it upped his street cred and kept people off his back,” I tell her. “I did basically the same thing at St. Aggie's. People respected me because I earned a reputation as a badass. That was all based on one fight when I was out of my mind with rage. But hey, it kept people from fucking with me, so I went with it.”

  Roger stops in front of my building and lets us out. I give him a word of thanks and tell him I'll see him tomorrow, before escorting Darby inside. We ride the elevator up and I can see her weighing my words against her intuition. When the bell chimes, letting us off on my floor, she turns to me and throws her arms around the back of my neck, planting a soft, sweet kiss on my lips.

  “I guess this means you believe me?” I ask.

  She nods. “Yeah. I do.”

  “Good,” I say. “Because your brother is on a warpath. He's going to stop at nothing to keep us apart.”

  “I know.”

  Taking her hand in mind, I head down the hall toward my door. “Just for curiosity's sake, what else did your brother tell you?”

  She laughs softly. “That you're under investigation for fraud, insider trading – a bunch of things I can't recall offhand,” she says. “But, he said his office basically has you dead to rights.”

  “Interesting,” I say, slipping the key into the front door lock. “Because I've not been contacted by his office – or my own lawyer – that there is an open investigation into anything we're doing at Bishop. He finds it impossible to believe, but we are completely above board. No shortcuts. No shady shit. We are straight up because I demand it be that way.”

  I let her step into my place first and follow after her, closing the door and locking it behind us.

  “Uhhh, Carter?”

  The tone of concern in her voice makes me spin around quickly, my body tensed, my fists raised, thinking we had an intruder. Instead of some masked gunman though, I cock my head and look around. On the table in the sunken living room is a bottle of champagne on ice, with a plate of what looks like oysters beside it. And all around the front room are lit candles. There must be a hundred of them.

  “What the hell?” I say, looking around.

  “Well, there you are, lover,” comes the sound of a woman's voice.

  I spin around again, now facing the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Standing there in heels, with matching black thigh highs, garter belt, and bra, is a woman with dusky hued skin, long, rich, deep brown hair, pert breasts, and a body to absolutely die for.

  And I have absolutely no idea who she is.

  “I've been waiting for you, Carter, baby,” she purrs. “You didn't tell me you were bringing your playmate for us to have some fun with tonight.”

  “I'm sorry, but who the fuck are you?” I ask.

  The brunette laughs, it's a rich, sensual sound. Her eyes locked on Darby's, she runs her fingertips down her neck, across her breasts, and down to her belly. All I can see though, is the stricken look on Darby's face. Tears well and shimmer in her eyes, but I can see her fighting to keep them from falling.

  “Oh, he didn't tell you about me?” the brunette asks Darby. “Because he told me all about you. Said you were pretty good in bed, but he wants you to learn to be better from me.”

  “Shut your lying fucking mouth,” I snap and then turn to Darby. “I don't know who this woman is. I swear to God, Darby. I've never seen her before in my life. This is total bullshit. I'm being set up here.”

  “How does she have a key to your place, Carter?”

  It's a damn goo
d question and one I don't have an answer to. I look from Darby to the brunette, feeling a tsunami of fear and rage rising within me.

  “How the fuck did you get in here?” I snap at the brunette.

  “Stop playing coy, lover,” she says. “You gave me a key like six months ago. Oh wait, is this like roleplay? Is this like that fuck a complete stranger game? Because honestly, that's kind of a hot little scenario? I'm totally into it, baby.”

  “Enough,” I roar and point a finger at the brunette. “You. Get the fuck out of my house right goddamn now.”

  She laughs, and it's throaty and rich. Sensuality drips off her tongue and emanates from her every pore.

  “It's okay,” Darby says, her voice choked with emotion. “I'll go. You two – you just stay here.”

  “Darby, wait,” I say. “Don't go. This isn't –”

  I put a hand on her arm to stop her, but she shakes it off, and shoots me a withering glare, daring me to touch her again.

  “Don't,” she hisses. “Just don't fucking even, Carter.”

  Darby storms out of my place, slamming the door behind her with enough force to knock the small picture frame off the wall beside it. The picture hits the ground and shatters on impact, sending small shards of glass flying. I round on the brunette and take a few menacing steps toward her.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I growl.

  She shrugs. “Just a girl playing a role for a little extra cash.”

  I shake my head, not understanding. “What the fuck?”

  “Wow,” comes Mason's voice from the darkness of the hallway. “My sister sure was pissed, wasn't she? I don't know the last time I saw her that mad. She's sure got a temper on her.”

  He steps out of the shadows and into the dim light of the living room. I glare at him, giving him a look that says I'm giving serious consideration to killing him right then and there. Mason hands the brunette a thick envelope and shoos here away. She scampers back to the bedroom, probably to get herself dressed, ready to get out of there.

  Mason and I glare at one another and it's all I can do to not kick his ass right then and there.

  “You miserable son of a bitch,” I hiss. “How the fuck did you get into my place?”

  He slips a piece of paper into his pocket and waves it at me before dropping it on the table beside him.

  “Search warrant,” he says. “Me and FBI Special Agent Weathers here executed a routine search warrant in relation to an open case in my office. Seems you're being accused of insider trading. Naughty, naughty boy.”

  “This is pure and utter bullshit and you know it, you fucking prick,” I say.

  He shrugs. “We take allegations of this nature very seriously, as you know,” he says. “It's my duty to make sure we conduct a very thorough and vigorous investigation.”

  I'm letting my anger get the best of me and I need to throttle it back. I need to think. I'm playing right into Mason's hands by blindly lashing out and letting my rage consume me. I take a long, deep breath and let it out slowly, working the problem over in my mind.

  My head a little clearer, my focus a little sharper, the first question that comes to me is an obvious one.

  “You can't have a warrant,” I seethe. “Because there is no crime. You have zero probable cause. Last I checked, you need probable cause. How in the fuck did get a bullshit warrant?”

  His smile is predatory. “Judge Peters, like me, is sick and tired of grifters like you operating with impunity. Scamming people out of millions, maybe even billions of dollars,” Mason says. “He agreed with my preliminary findings, felt there was enough cause and signed a warrant.”

  “Uh huh,” I say. “In exchange for what? A spot in the DOJ when you fulfill your masturbatory fantasy of becoming Attorney General?”

  Mason's smile grows wider and his eyes sparkle as he stares at me, but he remains silent.

  “I'm going to have your ass for this, Mason,” I growl. “And before I'm done, I'm going to see that Peters is thrown off the bench.”

  He shrugs. “I couldn't care less what happens to Peter. He's just another pawn on the gameboard,” Mason says. “He served his purpose.”

  The brunette steps up beside him. Gone is the lingerie and the sultry stare. Now, she's wearing a conservative dark pantsuit, her hair up in a bun, a pair of black-rimmed glasses on her face.

  “Ready to go, Special Agent Weathers?” Mason asks.

  She nods, but doesn't say anything. She can't even meet my eyes. At least she's got some shred of shame. Not that it matters much at this point. They head for the door.

  “This isn't over, Mason,” I say, my voice low and menacing. “Not by a country fuckin' mile.”

  He laughs. “I told you that I always win. People like you don't,” he says. “And my victories are as thorough as they are complete.”

  “You are a piece of shit,” I say. “An absolute piece of shit.”

  “I've been called worse by far better men than you,” he says. “And it doesn't change the fact that I've beaten you. Again.”

  Mason opens the door and the woman scampers out ahead of him, eager to be out of my place. He pauses at the door and looks back at me, a look of pure satisfaction on his face.

  “Shit,” he says. “I really love winning. That rush I get – it's better than sex.”

  “Yeah, keep thinking that, asshole,” I say. “Like I said, this isn't over. When I'm finished with you – ”

  “You really shouldn't make threats you can't deliver on, Carter,” he says. “It makes you look weak and pathetic. Oh wait, that's exactly what you are.”

  I give him a low chuckle. “I'm going to fucking relish pissing all over the ashes of your career,” I say. “You're going to have nothing left when I'm done. Nothing.”

  He looks at me, eyes narrowed, hard, challenging look on his face. “Well, you be sure to let me know when this big takedown happens,” he says. “Because I wouldn't want to miss it.”

  “Trust me, you won't.”

  His laugh is low, but menacing. He really does get off on this shit, on these power plays. What a pathetic piece of shit.

  “This doesn't change anything, you know,” I say. “I'm not going to stop seeing Darby.”

  His laughter is long and loud, and he's seemingly genuinely amused by my statement. Which only makes my hatred for him burn brighter, and the desire to tear his life completely down all the more intense. Ruining Mason White is going to become my mission. My crusade.

  “I don't think she's going to want to see you again,” he says. “Not after tonight. But, good luck with that.”

  His laughter echoes through my place as he walks out, closing the door softly behind him, leaving me with nothing but my rage.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Darby

  “You look like shit, Darbs.”

  I smile as Jade sits down across from me at the table. “Thanks. You know how to lift a girl's spirits.”

  She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “How you holding up?”

  “Barely,” I say. “Just barely.”

  I took the rest of the week off work. I'm in absolutely no condition to teach right now. Plus, I don't want my kids to see me like this. It's been a few of days since I walked in on – whatever that was in Carter's place – and today is the first day I haven't cried. Maybe I've run myself out of tears.

  Of course, it's still early.

  I needed some company this morning. Somebody to talk to and to help pull me out of the pit of misery and despair I'm wallowing in. Jade, being the true friend she is, was there without question and without delay. Why can't everybody in the world be as good as her?

  “I was an idiot,” I say. “Why in the hell would I think somebody like Carter would be into me? Or at least, into me enough that he'd stop seeing other women?”

  “You weren't an idiot, Darbs,” she says. “This isn't on you.”

  “What in the hell was I thinking?” I say.

  I feel the tears beginning to well up
again. Apparently, I haven't cried myself out of them yet. Not wanting to cry in public though, I ruthlessly bite them back.

  “You should have seen her, Jade,” I say. “That woman was a ten. A ten plus. A body to die for, sensuality pouring off her in buckets –”

  “Yeah, and so are you.”

  I scoff. “No, I'm nothing special. I'm no supermodel, not with my thick hips and maybe too full breasts. I'm average,” I say. “Of course, somebody like Carter is going to want to sleep with women as gorgeous as he is.

  I stare down into my cappuccino, watching the way the foam swirls about, and wishing for the millionth time, that I could be anywhere but there. Be anybody but me.

  “I can't believe I let myself fall for him again,” I say. “I should have known better. I really should have known better. I should know better and just stay in my lane, doing what makes me happy – teaching my kids and creating art. That's it.”

  My phone rings and when I look at the display, I see that it's Carter calling me. Again. For the ten thousandth time. And for the ten thousandth time, I decline to take the call and wait. And sure enough, about two minutes later, my phone chirps with an incoming text message.

  “Darby, we need to talk. Please.”

  A hundred snarky replies come to mind, but I dismiss them all. Giving him any sort of a reaction is only going to encourage him to keep trying to contact me. And that's the last thing I want right now. What I want is for Carter to leave me the hell alone while I sort through all this crap in my head.

  “Carter?” Darby asks.

  “Again.”

  “Maybe you should talk to him,” she says. “I know this looks bad. Really bad. But, maybe it's a misunderstanding?”

  I arch an eyebrow at her. “I really doubt that.”

  “Not to make you relive that again,” she says.

  “But you're going to make me relive it again,” I say, giving her a wry smile.

  She says nothing, but gives me a little shrug. I called her down here to commiserate and give me her perspective, so filling her in on all the gory, unpleasant details is the least I can do. I recount that evening, leaving little out. Jade listens to every word, nodding along, but not interrupting. When I'm through, she takes a sip of her coffee and nods.