Page 25 of Royally Ruined

“Yes. He is.” Tapping the buttons, Costello stared straight ahead. The elevator had no music; we were surrounded by our own silence. I could see my reflection in the metal-clad wall, smudged and warped.

That’s exactly how I feel right now.I gave him a furtive glance.This is my fault. I made everything so weird. I shouldn’t have tried to get him to kiss me in the motel. Or on the jet.It was clear to me that I’d been hoping for it hard. Why else would I be so let down that he called our almost hookup an accident?

On the third floor he led me to one of the many doors. “This is where we’ll be staying,” he said, tapping the key card.

“Both of us?” I asked, my voice rising.

“Of course.” Arching a perfect eyebrow, he waved me inside. “My parents think we’re dating. They expect us to share a room.”

“I guess they aren’t the living-in-sin type of people?”

Chuckling dryly, he watched me as I stepped through. The room was pretty big, much nicer than the motel room. “You should stay in here until the wedding.” Costello checked his phone. He was acting so damn aloof. “I have to go help Kain get ready for tonight.”

“All right. I guess I’ll just ... watch some TV. Maybe one of those reality fashion shows will come on,” I babbled, tugging at my sweater as I sat on the bed. “I could get some ideas for how to turn this outfit into a grand ballroom dress, or something.”

His eyes softened on me. “No one will care what you’re wearing. They won’t notice you like I—” He cut himself off quickly.

“You really don’t think I’ll stick out in this plain outfit?”

Looking from me to the windows, he breathed in slowly. I started to lean off the bed, hoping he’d offer to take me shopping. Instead he just shut his eyes and whispered, “It’s safer like this.”

Right, safe as a sardine in a can.Maybe drawing parallels to already-dead things wasn’t the best move. “It’s okay. You’re right, this is the smarter route.”

His fingers drummed on the side of the door. Finally he came over to me, holding his phone out. “If you need anything, call me.”

A tiny rush danced its way up to my throat. “You’re giving me your number?”

“How else would we talk?”

It was such a silly, normal thing that normal people did. Except this wasn’t normal. The oldest son of a notorious crime empire was giving me hisphone number. He wasn’t some sweaty guy fidgeting as he asked me out.

Quickly we exchanged information; my hands were shaking the entire time he lingered near me. They vibrated for several seconds after he left me alone in the hotel room.

Covering my eyes with my arms, I dropped back on the bed.Stupid heart! Stop thumping, I want to be over this guy!Each time I wiggled a little farther from his pull, Costello roped me closer with such ease.

The knock at my door made me sit up so fast I bit my tongue. “Augh!” I winced. “Uh, one second!”

It wasn’t my handsome ice prince returning to keep me company. Three women stood on my doorstep, only one of them familiar. “Francesca?” I asked, squinting at her, then at the strangers. “Hey, what’s up?”

The curvy girl shot a tired look at her companions. The first to speak had pretty green eyes, her hair up in a loose knot that was nothing like Fran’s—this one was definitely a rush job. “Hi there,” she said, offering me her hand. “I wanted to come meet you ... before the wedding and stuff, I mean. I’m Sammy.”

The bride.“Oh,” I said, giving her hand a quick squeeze. Sammy didn’tdoquick, apparently, because she crushed on hard enough that I winced. Her laugh was sweet as honey; it took the edge off, made me think she was just being friendly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Heather.”

“I guess you met Fran,” Sammy said, motioning.

“I’m Sammy’s bestie,” Francesca said darkly. “And her maid of honor. Don’t go getting any ideas.”

My lips quirked up. “Right. Thanks for the warning.”

Sammy gave the woman a sharp tap on the head. I got the impression she was used to Fran’s antics. “Relax, I’m not going to pick a new maid of honor at this hour. Not all of us are that nuts.” She jerked a thumb to the willowy woman beside her. “This is Lulabelle.”

Lulabelle looked down on me—and she could in her heels, she was that tall. I was reminded of an ivory tower. I didn’t doubt her strength, even if her pale skin made me wonder if she ever saw the sun.

Her eyes were flat as a snake’s when they settled on me. “I hear you’re dating my brother.”

I’d have appreciated how to the point that statement was, but I was busy reeling from it.Her brother?Lulabelle was Costello’s sister? In the far reaches of my memory, I dug through the bits that hadn’t been activated in forever. The only thing I recalled about another Badd daughter was that she’d been mentioned in a fewEnquirer-style newspapers in the grocery stores.

They’d waxed poetic about the Missing Mafia Princess. Had she been abducted by aliens? Had her father murdered her? Had the whole Badd family conspired to hide the body?

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