Royally Bad (Bad Boy Royals #1)

by Nora Flite

  Wordlessly, I juggled my wallet out. It was an impressive feat. My card flicked onto the tiny counter, the solid black shape telling the world how much money I had at my disposal.

  The woman eyeballed it, two fingers sliding it under her window. With a final stare between it, me, then Sammy, she hurried to make our ice cream.

  “I hate you,” Sammy whispered above me.

  Squeezing her thighs, I turned my jaw enough to nip playfully at her knee. “I think you mean you adore me, sugar.”

  Our cold treats came quickly. I like to imagine they worked extra fast when they saw my fancy credit card. Patiently, I waited for Sammy to take the two cones. Then, I winked at the attendant, took my card in my teeth, and strode over to a free bench in front of the shop.

  There was space inside, but I wanted to be alone.

  Kneeling lower, I grunted as Sammy climbed over my head. It was mildly uncomfortable, but I did get nice and close to her delicious ass, so who was I to complain? She offered me my cone; I took it, quickly licking at some of the melting spots. “Huh, this is good.”

  “Told you,” she said, sitting on the bench. Her eyes were low, focused on her snack as she kicked one foot like a giddy kid. She didn’t say it out loud, but I was sure I’d cheered her up with my ridiculous actions.

  “So,” she said, wagging the ice cream side to side. “Is ‘Badd’ the normal surname for a rich, famous, and oh-so-royal family?”

  Laughing in my throat, I said, “No. My father came here a long while ago. He didn’t want to fight with his family back in his home country over who would rule there. Our actual last name is different.” Going over-the-top with my enunciation, I said, “Kain Fredrickson. Less of a ring to it than Badd, if you ask me.”

  “Huh. How’d he get away with changing that?”

  “He was always rich, but my mother . . . she’s part of the Cassava family. They’re wealthy as well, but she gave him a lot of connections in this state. Together, they’ve got power, and power can make hiding your identity very easy.” On reflex, I touched my ribs where the crown tattoo was.

  She watched me intently, her eyes glinting. “Francesca told me about that ink you all have.”

  Ice cream dripped onto my leg; I wiped it away quickly. “Did she really?” Fucking hell, Sis. What were secrets worth these days?

  “I guess it’s one way to make sure you remember your history, if you don’t have your last name to track it back.”

  Shrugging, I threw the last bit of waffle cone at a nearby can. It bounced off the rim, falling inside. “It’s a silly tradition, not one worth fighting.”

  Sammy looked like she wanted to say something. Instead, she licked the cold vanilla in her hands and went quiet.

  We perched on that bench for some time. The quiet was comfortable—thoughtful. Both of us had a lot to weigh and measure when it came to what we were doing.

  I looked down at her. The top of her head was at my shoulder, her eyelashes downcast and creating gentle shadows on her cheeks. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She smiled to herself. “Yeah. I mean—yeah. I think I’m just enjoying this more than I expected to.” Hopping off the bench, she wiped sticky palms on her trousers.

  “Don’t be so shocked, I’m a super fun guy.” Grinning, I followed her to the bike. Sammy gathered herself as if she was going to tease me in return. Instead she just climbed onto the motorcycle, hiding under the helmet wordlessly.

  Settling in front of her, I had to wonder . . .

  Was she hiding from me?

  The drive back was faster somehow. Probably because I didn’t want it to end. I had an awful sense that something was coming, and to avoid it, I just had to keep riding. It was getting dark, my headlights illuminating the way. Pulling through the gates, I kept going, pushing a button on my keys to make the garage open.

  Inside, I guided my bike to a corner away from the other vehicles. Throwing down the kickstand, I turned to say . . . something. Sammy met me there, her mouth hungry and tasting like vanilla.

  “Thanks,” she said, breaking away. “For everything. Tonight was nice.”

  “Nice?” I teased. My hand slid up her knee. “I don’t think that’s the right word.”

  Pushing me away, she hopped down, but she didn’t leave. Looking up at me so that the glaring white bulbs lit up her face, she said, “I’m serious. Thank you.”

  I readied another joke. “You’re welcome.” That wasn’t what was supposed to come out.

  She rocked on her heels, smiling as she backed up to the inner door. “I’ll go upstairs. Real sneaky-like, so no one sees me.”

  My shrug was barely there. “They know we left. You can’t trick them.”

  Sammy froze, her hand on the exit that connected the garage to the main house. “Wait, if you knew they’d find out, why did you take me?”

  “I didn’t want to see you sad.” It was such a simple answer to a complicated situation.

  Blushing, she ducked her head. “That’s not your problem.”

  “It shouldn’t be,” I said somberly. “But it is.”

  On quick feet, she hurried my way again. Her movements were fast, but this time I wasn’t caught off guard. Sammy stood on tiptoe, kissing me sweetly. It wasn’t wet and raw, it wasn’t meant to make my cock jump to attention, and it still did.

  I’d never been kissed like that in all my life.

  Scurrying away like she was worried she couldn’t stop herself if she didn’t abandon our kiss right then, she opened the door. Light slid in through the crack, turning her face into two halves; partly angelic, partly cool blue shadow. “Night.” She vanished into the house and out of sight.

  Touching my mouth, I shivered. This girl is going to ruin me.

  Counting a full three minutes, I slid out of the garage. I’d figured I could avoid anyone this way. After all, it was pretty late. Everyone else should have been in bed or settling in. Whatever problems would arise from my decisions, they could come in the morning.

  My father was waiting for me in the mudroom.

  Ah, shit-tits.

  The deep lines in his forehead gave away his fury. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  I stuck my hands in my jacket. “You told me to get her anything she needed. She needed to go see her mother.” I started to shove past him; his hand slammed into my chest, sending me back into the wall.

  “You think it was smart to bring her out of the estate?” he asked. The anger burned low in his eyes. “If someone was following you, you led them right to her mother. How was that helping anyone?”

  I swayed forward, our chests bumping. “No one would have to worry about that if you’d let us do something about Brick Monroe.”

  “Like what, kill him?”

  My eye twitched. “Punish him. Make it clear he can’t go after anyone he wants without consequences.”

  “Do you know why he attacked Sammy in the first place?”

  My veins throbbed—I struggled for an answer.

  He said, “Son, look at me.” With reluctance I did. “I suspected the Deep Shots from the start. Ever since they changed leadership, they’ve become . . . reckless. What matters now is learning their motives. If they want to make a move to take us out, and she’s somehow part of that . . .”

  “You want to use her as bait?”

  His nose became a row of grooves. I worried he might hit me—and that wasn’t something he’d ever done. Lowering his hands to his sides, he breathed out like a dragon in its den. “Our family comes first. It’s a shame you’ve forgotten that. I thought I could trust you to obey my rules. Apparently not.”

  “Rules,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What are you going to do? Cut me off from our money? You can’t hurt me, and I’m not some snot-nosed kid you can ground in his room anymore.”

  I was getting puffed up—cocky. I was positive he could do nothing to me.

  Maverick was contemplating something. I watched him size me up, seeing how unimpressed I was with his th
reats. Half turning, he looked down the hall, toward the front stairs.

  Toward Sammy.

  “I can’t trust you not to sneak her out again. I’ll put someone else in charge.”

  My heart shriveled.

  “And,” he went on, “I don’t trust her to listen to me, either. She’s amazingly good at manipulating people.”

  “She didn’t manipulate me! I—”

  “You what?” he asked, fixing one cold eye on me. He dared me to say it. I didn’t know what it even was. That I wanted her so bad that I’d risk getting in trouble with my own family?

  That I cared for her?

  That I . . .

  My father was moving, his arms stone stiff beside him. Me and my brothers were gifted with his genetics, all of us tall and strong. But he was still larger, a man that would have looked more comfortable dragging a plow over a farm.

  Or sitting on a gigantic throne.

  “Stop,” I hissed, following him up the stairs. “Where are you going?”

  “I told you. I’m putting everyone’s safety first.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  He knocked on Fran’s door. Inside, I heard the chattering stop cold. Seconds later, my twin opened the door, blinking at us both. Behind her, Sammy sat on the floor in a pair of silky, two-piece, mint-green pajamas. “Uh, hi, Daddy. What’s up?”

  The girl I adored looked back at me with eyes that matched her outfit. Her smile was uncertain, failing the longer she realized that I wasn’t even trying to look happy.

  I’d been so fucking sure he could do nothing to me.

  So sure . . .

  That I’d forgotten he could do plenty to Sammy.

  - CHAPTER SIXTEEN -

  SAMMY

  “Where are you taking me?” My voice rose while I yanked frantically on the impossible vise that was Maverick’s fist. He was pulling me easily through the mansion, both Fran and Kain close behind.

  “Dad!” Francesca snapped, rushing toward my side. “Let her go! This is insane! Daddy!”

  The tree of a man didn’t even look at her.

  My heels dug in; I skidded, close to falling, but Maverick righted me without even slowing a step. “Hey! Ha-ha, let’s just talk about this like normal, non-dragging-girls-through-a-mansion kind of people!” In desperation, I twisted so violently my shoulder threatened to pop free. “Kain,” I said, searching his face for some clue. “What’s happening? Is this because you took me off the estate?”

  Maverick ripped me around a corner. “Yes, you have my son to thank for what I’m being forced to do.”

  The scalding hate Kain aimed at the back of his father’s head stunned me. “You don’t have to do anything! You’re overreacting!”

  His father grunted, dismissing the accusation. “Sammy, I took you in to make sure nothing happened to you . . . and also to make sure you couldn’t be used against us. You and my son seem to think that I’m joking around.”

  Our tiny parade was heading into a part of the house where I’d never been. The long walkway was flush with windows, the night sky peeking inside. Being forced along by muscle and fury, I actually thought that this place with its glowing white marble and angelic-halo lights couldn’t hold back the darkness that Maverick Badd was burning with.

  At the end of the hall, there was a door. It was deceptively simple, nothing about it should have scared me. Somehow I knew that if we reached that place . . . everything would end.

  I would end.

  My heart’s rhythm was breaking down, the pattern erratic. “Hey—uh, wait! Just wait! I thought you said you liked me? Remember?” I tugged and tugged. “If you quit now, we can forget this whole thing! I’d like that—anyone else like that idea? No? Just me?”

  Maverick’s hand closed on the doorknob. His son’s palm came down like a whip, clamping shut on top. Their fingers were pretzeled, the two men staring each other down. Sandwiched between, I was suffocating in their raw intensity.

  “Kain,” his father said softly. “Back off.”

  “I won’t let you do this to her,” he growled.

  Do what to me?

  “What’s all of this?” The voice was flat; Costello stood in the hall behind us. His loose sweatpants hung off his slim hips, the top of his black boxers creeping above the lazily tied strings.

  A tight, white shirt strangled his biceps, and though he was standing still, I had the impression that he was ready to jump into battle.

  Maverick eyeballed his son. “Costello, come get your brother off of me.”

  The lighter-haired brother considered Kain, then his eyes crossed to where I was trapped between them. “Maybe you should explain what’s going on here first.”

  “Fucking hell,” Maverick spat. “Are all of you rebelling? I said get him away. Do as you’re told.”

  There was a second when I met Costello’s stare. His irises were sheer ice, but they weren’t cruel. Why would he be sad? It didn’t matter; quicker than a hummingbird’s wings, the lean man slid his arms around Kain’s neck.

  “Shit—Costello!” Kain cried out, releasing his father to tangle with his attacker. The brothers wrenched away, Fran covering her mouth as she gawked along with me. Costello wasn’t much bigger than Kain—I’d have said he was thinner, less muscular, if pressed for details.

  Kain twisted, his torso showing as his shirt peeled higher. I saw every fiber under his skin flex. The two men tumbled against a wall, their impact reverberating through my teeth. I started to rush at them, hoping to get them to stop.

  Taking advantage of the situation, Maverick opened the door and pulled me through.

  Francesca had started to intervene with her brothers, but she must have thought my situation was worse, because she came after me instead. “Daddy! This is fucked up! What’s wrong with you?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me.” Violently, he thrust me forward. “I’m doing what I have to, to keep everyone safe.”

  “This is your idea of safe?” I asked, stumbling away from him. My cynical laugh flew free. “Dragging me through your house and making your kids fight like some testosterone-fueled junkies?” I was going to say more . . . but I’d finally noticed where I was.

  Flowers grew along the walls, weaving through the tiny holes to create hanging gardens. The ceiling was one big window, a peephole to the galaxies stretching above. Under my sock-clad feet, I saw I was standing on a plush, white rug. There was a large, round bed set in a corner, the gold blanket shiny—opulent.

  I saw it as a private sanctuary for an emperor . . . or a queen.

  How was this a punishment?

  Then Maverick showed me a key. “This,” he said, making sure I was listening, “is where you’ll live for the rest of your stay, however long that may be.”

  “What? This one room?” I asked.

  The man raised his eyes to the hallway, mine followed. Costello had his brother in a headlock so tight it had turned him purple. I started toward him in a panic; Maverick snatched my wrist again. “You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” he asked into my ear.

  Bending away, I grimaced. “Of course I am!” My next shout was aimed at Costello. “How can you do that to your own brother? Let him go!”

  Amazingly, Costello did. Kain dropped to the ground, hacking as he cupped his throat. The sight was awful. I struggled to get to him, but his father was an immovable object. This was too much; I felt a part of me snapping.

  “Look at him,” Maverick hissed at me. “If you care so much, how could you risk his life by making him take you off our property?”

  “I needed to leave!”

  “And I need people to listen to me so no one gets killed!” he roared.

  Stunned, I stopped yanking at his tight grip. From the corner of my eye, I saw how horrified Fran looked. But . . . she didn’t look surprised. She’s seen her father like this before, I realized.

  The big man took my shoulders, making me face him. “I had every intention of trusting you and Kain
to follow my request. You didn’t. Neither of you seems to get what’s going on, how much danger we’re all in. I care about this family, even if you don’t.”

  “I do care,” I insisted.

  He went quiet. In my ears, Kain’s dry coughing echoed. That sound rocked me with shame. My head was buzzing, making it too hard to decide which of Maverick’s words were threats and which were advice. Did I mess up? Is this my fault?

  Was Kain suffering because of me?

  Letting me go, he walked out into the hall. “Costello,” he said, handing over the key. “Take turns with Hawthorne. You’re to make sure she never leaves this room.”

  Lightning exploded in my veins. “You’re actually serious.”

  Costello stared at me for too long. Then he slid his eyes to Francesca. Something passed between them, a look that seemed to say, This again? It was the closest I’d seen them ever come to connecting.

  Francesca spun away, her scowl beyond severe.

  Costello closed his fingers on the key. “All right.” Bending down, he helped Kain to his feet.

  The other brother shoved him off, stepping back to glare at everyone except for me. “You’re going to literally lock her up, and you think I’ll allow that?”

  “What will you do?” his dad asked quietly. “Fight all of us and flee away into the night? You’d tear this family apart for a stranger?”

  “She isn’t—” Kain cut himself off. “Yes. I’d fight everyone in the whole fucking world to make sure she didn’t have to suffer through your perverse ideas of safety like the rest of us have. You haven’t learned a damn thing from the past.”

  I was so overwhelmed by the full-body throb that fought with my growing pit of ice that I didn’t consider the implication that this had happened before. He’d fight his own blood . . . for me? The thrill of that admission was crushed by my morbid guilt.

  I saw it in my mind’s eye: the suffering, the tears—the pain.

  I saw how they faced off now, already acting like enemies.

  I saw their family photo, all the genuine, unguarded smiles.

  And I saw my mother standing in front of the empty casket belonging to my father.