Page 11 of Royally Bad

And we hadn’t even kissed.

Staring into the golden drink, I watched the bubbles pop. Some floated to the top, others clung to the glass as if trying to hold off their fate.

Which was I? A fighter ... or a bubble that wanted to be popped?

Putting the glass to my lips, I sipped.

Champagne had never tasted so much like sin.

I hadn’t slept ... I wasn’t thinking straight. Alcohol was part of the blame, too—after the one glass, I’d refilled mine twice. I kept looking for every excuse in my arsenal so that I could justify what my body was eager to do.

The sky was a deep shade of ocean tide. Under it, my world felt suddenly smaller.

“Oh, Sammy!”

I’d hoped to sneak past the family as they sat under the tiny, star-shaped lights, but Francesca was too vigilant. She waved at me, getting the attention of everyone else so that it was impossible to just walk away.

My lungs flared.Kain can wait.Hell, if I took enough time to clear my head, maybe I could get out of here without giving in to my stupid urges. Smiling, I approached the long tables that were set nearly end-to-end.

Francesca stood when I got close, pulling me against her with a big grin. “Everyone!” The people were talking among themselves; she shouted louder. “Hey! Shut the hell up!” That worked, every set of eyes fixing on my furiously hot face. “This is Sammy, and she’s the best damn person I’ve met in a long time. If it wasn’t for her, the wedding tomorrow couldn’t even happen.”

“Oh, no,” I said, flapping my hands.

“Don’t be modest,” Mama Badd said, tipping her drink at me. From her half-shut eyelids, I suspected she was feeling the alcohol. “Frannie is right. You got her dress ready overnight, and you saved this dinner party.”

There was a large man across from Mama B. His jaw was thick as a melon, but the hard angles of his cheeks and nose revealed a familiar handsomeness. Neurons fired in the base of my brain. I knew he was Kain’s father before he spoke. “Thank you, Sammy,” he said, all silk and brass. “You’ve made my little girl very happy, and so you’ve made me happy.”

“Hear hear,” cheered a guy beside the big man’s elbow. He couldn’t have been much older than Kain, his eyes a black so pure I wondered where his pupils were. He was wearing a pearl-gray suit, but it didn’t hide his muscles one bit.

Francesca let me go, throwing her arms around her father. “I love ya, Daddy!”

Chuckling, he patted her back, then reached past her to offer me his hand. “Maverick,” he murmured. Linking my fingers with his, I had the unsettling thought that, if he wanted to, he could have crushed my bones without a struggle.

Maverick hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s Hawthorne, my second oldest.”

The guy winked at me. He took after his mother, the telltale blue eyes of his father replaced by wicked black holes. “Seconds can be better than firsts.” He chuckled.

I didn’t doubt that he was trying to flirt, but I was busy wondering ... if he wasn’t the oldest, who was?

“Hm,” Maverick mumbled. “Where’s Kain? You’ve met him, right?”

Fuck, I was blushing all over again. “Uh, yeah. I have.”

Mama Badd turned in her chair, frowning at the darkened garden. “Maybe I should go look for him.”

“No!” Lifting my hands, I smiled appealingly. “Let me do it. I was going to wander around and get some air, anyway. It was nice to meet you all.” I’d hardly met half of them by the looks of all the unfamiliar faces, but that was fine with me.

I had too many sinful, sticky things in my head to wonder about Kain’s family tree.

That impossible man ... he’d told me to drink, then find him. He’d probably expected me to back out. When I found him in the gardens, just outside the rows of tables everyone was gathered at, his face didn’t give his thoughts away. Had he heard us all talking or his father asking for him?

He had to, I can hear them just chatting from here.That meant he’d decided to ignore them all ... and wait for me.

“Guess you made your choice,” he whispered.

On unsteady feet, I approached him. He was standing against a tall hedge, surrounded by roses that looked black instead of pink in the shade. It was cool enough to see my breath, the ghostly smoke rolling between us. June in New England loved to shift weather patterns by the damn hour.

I was a magnet to his iron touch. He snatched me up, his hands prowling over my stomach and hips. I was grateful for the chill; he’d turned me into a furnace.

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