Page 23 of Royally Ruined

He was gripping the armrests with his long fingers, digging in as if to lock himself where he was. His voice was soft, but it still managed to slice through my belly. “Last night was an accident. What almost happened between us was a mistake I won’t make again.” Only his lips were moving. He was a statue made from polished marble; how could he be so beautiful and so cruel?

My heart was in my throat. I’d never realized how fragile it was. Why else would his words hurt so badly? The jet shifted, and the motion freed me from his stare. Looking out the window, I muttered, “I get it. It was a game for you. Just like me pretending to be your girlfriend is.”

Costello had no response. Well, good.What a jackass,I thought, digging my nails into my upper arms as I hugged myself.He doesn’t need to tell me it was an accident to flirt with me. I already figured that out.

But there was a tender part of me that kept saying he waswrong.He was lying. There’d never been any game; he’d wanted me the way I’d wanted him.No, he said it plainly. It won’t happen again, and he didn’t mean to go that far in the first place.My intuition that was never wrong clearly had been this time.

Glass clinked onto the table in front of me. He’d finally poured me that drink. Given how shriveled up I was inside, the cold water would be a godsend. His nearness was too painful; if I grabbed the glass, it would put us even closer.

Just as I was debating getting up and changing seats, a voice came over the speakers, telling us to stay where we were. The jet was leaving, time to buckle up. Time to sit tight and pretend that my life wasn’t tumbling around in a blender. So I stayed where I was ...

And wished I was anywhere else.

- CHAPTER EIGHT -

SCOTCH

The trip was fast, not more than an hour.

I’d flown before, but never in such luxury. No waiting to go through security, no taking off my shoes. I didn’t even have any luggage! Though ... that could be a problem. So far no one had asked about it.

Actually, no one had really asked me anything. Carmina and Francesca sat up front, chatting about Kain’s wedding. They’d mentioned the bride a few times in passing, so I’d learned her name was Sammy. Costello surely had more info, but we weren’t talking.

I was in a contest with myself to not even look at the man.

I was winning.

The landing was smooth, and as eager as I was to get up first, Costello unclicked his seat belt and beat me to it. Following him down the aisle, I stepped off the jet and into the fresh air. The private field was surrounded by tall pine trees; they created a wild smell that I happily inhaled.

“Wow.” I chuckled.

“What’s up?” Costello asked beside me.

For a wink of time I almost didn’t respond. But I’m no good at the stupid games those how-to-win-a-guy books recommend—because ignoring boys makes them like you better or ... something. “I was just thinking about how fresh it feels here. I’ve only been in Vermont for a few minutes, but so far I like it.”

He watched me closely. If anyone else had done that, I would have been uncomfortable. When his eyes tracked out over the area, I copied him. A shiny black car—similar enough to the one the family had arrived in that I did a double take to make sure itwasn’tthe same—was waiting on the tarmac. Two men in sunglasses and thick ash-gray coats came over to help unload the luggage.

“Hey,” Thorne said, pulling me by the elbow. His other hand came down on his brother’s high shoulder. “We need to talk.”

I shook him off me. Making sure no one was listening in, I said, “We sure do. What’s going on with Darien?”

Thorne looked over at Costello. “Doc has been sending me updates. Darien is still out. He thinks he has signs of a concussion, you know anything about that?”

Both men stared down at me; I folded my arms behind my back. “I sort of hit him with a champagne bottle?”

“Sort of?”Thorne scoffed.

“I didn’t think it was a hard hit! The guy didn’t even go down, just stumbled!”

Costello ignored his brother’s dramatic groan and hissed, “Have you heard from Dad?”

“If you’re asking if he’s gotten wind of the meeting going to shit, I don’t know. I figure if he did, he’d be blowing up our phones.” He scratched behind his ear. “Why would no one call him?”

“Maybe they can’t.” Costello lifted his phone, pointing at the “No Service” message. “This place must have spotty reception.”

Okay. Now Ireallyloved Vermont.

“Boys!” Carmina shouted, waving her orange boa. “Let’s get going! There’s only nine hours until the ceremony!”

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