Page 9 of Royally Bad

Hugging her dog, she moaned. “You can’t! I need you to save the day, please! I don’t have time to find another planner.”

Chewing my lip, I glanced at Matilda. She was hovering, picking at her nails and looking at her feet. She acted like she wanted to turn invisible.

I said, “Party planning isn’t my expertise.” Mama Badd swished my way. Literally swished, because her long dress was dangling with threads of crystal that brushed her calves loudly. “Hon, you’re the one who made Fran’s dress, right? You’ve seen your share of wedding parties. We just need someone to help us set up, keep it all together.”

“Ah ... well ...”

My hesitation was obvious. She sniffed, eyeing my dented car and smiling knowingly. “We’ll pay you, of course.”

Jeez, this family and their money. They threw it around like it was candy on Halloween.

Matilda whispered, “You should do it. It’s better to help them than to run.”

Run? It wasn’t running.

What else do you call escaping because you’re scared of bumping into Kain again? That sounds like running to me.I cursed my blunt inner thoughts.

With everyone watching me expectantly—even the dog—I smiled weakly. “All right. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

- CHAPTER THREE -

SAMMY

Have you ever planned a party in just three hours?

Me either.

Until now.

Luckily, I wasn’t alone. I had a range of helpers, from cooks to servants to bussers. I’d never had to lead so many people. In my drained state, the hours melted into a weird swirl of white noise and murky colors.

I was surprised they needed me, honestly. I was sure that anyone else could have directed the waiters to bring out drinks and appetizers, and certainly any old person could have told them to choose cloths for the garden tables that complemented the bride-to-be’s bright orange dress.

White and green, thank you.

Exhausted, I wiped my forehead and leaned against the kitchen wall. I did have a better idea of the estate’s layout now, that was a plus.You won’t be spending time here, why does it matter if you know where things are?

Again, my sharp inner voice was right.

Sipping a big glass of water, I rubbed my hands on my dress. Francesca had insisted I change into something more presentable. Finding an outfit in her closet that wasn’t covered in faux fur, animal spots, or giant rhinestones was a challenge.

I’d settled on a green satin dress, the bottom pleats glinting with gold. It was still flashy, but it would work.

“Ma’am?” a young waiter asked. He was wearing the same starched, black suit as all the others, though the way he shifted around, he seemed uncomfortable in it. “Miss Badd says you can go if you like. They’re done eating and are enjoying after-dinner drinks now.”

I flashed an appreciative smile. “Thanks—ah, what’s your name?”

“Jameson.”

“Thanks, Jameson. I’ll head out in a minute.”

He nodded, his slicked-back hair moving as much as a helmet would. I had the distinct sensation that he was lingering, watching me with interest. Before I could ask him if something was wrong, he hurried off.

Pushing my hair behind my ears, I closed my eyes and pointed my nose to the ceiling.

What a day.

“Did you move in or something?”

---