Page 53 of House of Royals

“I can’t believe you went and got a job at Fred’s,” he says with a chuckle.

I smile back, because working in the bakery is the most natural thing in the world for me, but then I also come home tothishouse every afternoon. “Well, I’ve not just been busy with work. I went to see Jasmine last week.”

Ian’s face turns a shade whiter and his expression falls. “What?”

I swallow hard. I’m an adult, I don’t have to justify anything. This is my decision. But I do know how Ian feels about me mingling with the House members.

“I wasn’t just going to wait around again for the House to decide what to do with me,” I start. Ian rolls onto his side and we lie there facing each other. “I made a deal with her.”

“A deal with the House is never good,” he says, barely suppressing a hiss.

“Hear me out, please,” I ask softly.

Ian looks away from me for a moment. His jaw is tight and he looks a bit like he wants to hit something. There’s rage and fight and darkness in Ian. So much of it. But most of the times he looks at me, I see something different. Something softer.

With great effort, he takes a second, calms himself down, and looks back at me. “Okay.”

I tell him everything. How I agreed to claim the House, but not until after my birthday. How I didn’t let Jasmine manipulate me into anything. How I thought Lillian might be an ally if I needed one. How Markov brought everything I was giving up to my attention.

“It’s damn scary that you walked right back into that House,” Ian says. His eyes are open, receptive—not angry. “But it sounds like you know what you’re doing. Maybe like you’re even supposed to be doing this. I’m glad you’re not getting involved, but I think you would have been a great House leader. And that, coming from me, says something.”

And this just brings to light everything that’s doomed about our relationship. That hurts, so much because every time I look at Ian, I see everything that makes me okay with this new life. I see hope and excitement. Acceptance.

“We have three and a half months,” I say quietly. “That’s all I could get us. But it’s ours. They promised to leave me alone.”

Ian rolls forward and kisses my lips and everything in me craves more. Which just brings fear into my heart. “You just have to promise me one thing,” I say as I push him away an inch or two.

“What?” he asks, unsure eyes searching mine.

“You have to promise not to fall in love with me.” And when I say it, I’m gravely serious.

Because it’s my greatest fear right now. More than being killed by a demented king. More than knowing I will resurrect. More than a future of craving blood. My greatest fear is what I’m feeling now and how much more of it I’ll be feeling the longer this goes on. And then to have that ripped away…

Ian doesn’t answer me right away. He studies me, and I know the self-reflection that’s going on in his head. It’s the same story for me. “That’s going to be a hard promise to keep, I’m afraid.”

“But you have to make it,” I say, feeling desperate. I place my hands on his chest, but my eyes fall away from his. I can’t look at him. “Because we have an expiration. And this will have to end.”

Ian’s breathing grows slightly faster and deeper. Heat rises in his eyes. He’s angry about this and this situation that I didn’t ask for—the one that neither of us can do anything about.

“Three and a half months,” he says with hardness in his voice. “Those three and a half months are ours, and if any of them mess with a single day of it, I’ll kill them all.”

“I KNOW THAT YOU’RE PERFECTLY capable of cooking Thanksgiving dinner, Lula,” I say in exasperation. “But I just thought it would be nice if I helped you with a few things. I work in a bakery, I could do the rolls and it really would be no problem.”

“Girl, you get outa’ my house and stop tryin’ to impose on ma’ family,” Lula growls at me. She literally shakes a frying pan at me.

I turn to Ian, exasperation on my face. “A little help here?”

“I…psh,” he says with a shrug and a shake of his head.

“Really?” I say, completely and utterly annoyed. “Look, Lula—”

“I said get outta’ my house!” she bellows at me.

I raise my hands in surrender and walk out the back door.

“Liv, wait!” Ian calls as he follows me out into the backyard.

“Wait for what?” I yell as he jogs and stops in front of me. “Your grandmother hates me. She won’t even let me in the door most days. Thanksgiving is in two days and she keeps saying she has all week to buy the food. There’s going to be nothing left at the market!”

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