Page 29 of Royally Arranged

He shook his head and folded his arms. “No. Though many families would try to get their daughters close to my brother and me, vying for attention. The things they’d do to win us over ...” My mother tightened her lips; he cleared his throat. “Anyway, it sounds like you’re considering this offer now.”

I leaned my chair back on its rear legs, balancing. “You staked Rush at my room yesterday. Did you have him there to give you a heads-up in case I ran away after what went down at the funeral?”

Maverick considered me for a minute. “I always expect the best from my children.”

“You must be disappointed constantly, then,” I said, standing. “I want to talk this over with the Valentines more. I need to know what everyone is getting out of this,beyondus keeping our heads.”

Some tension left my father’s face. “It’s already been set.”

“What has?”

My mother rose and headed to the bathroom. “The meeting,” she said, vanishing around the corner. “They’re expecting us for lunch today.”

Of course they are.“When I become king, everyone has to start telling me the plans. I hate being out of the loop.”

“When you become king,” my dad said, clapping me on the shoulder, “you’ll have a lot more to worry about than lunch meetings.”

It was an interesting experience leaving the hotel.

I knew word had gotten out about my father returning to the country, but I wasn’t quite ready for the amount of attention that would bring us. Rush warned us before we left our rooms.

He and the other guards made sure there was a path for us so we could get from the lobby to the car that was waiting on the street. I tried to tell how my father felt about the rows of cameras waiting to take pictures of us as we hovered just inside the hotel’s front doors. His emotionless expression made it too hard.

My mother, at least, was enjoying the attention. Back home, she was very aware that the local news might snap a photo or two of her while she was out on the town or having lunch with a friend. She seemed quite comfortable with her dark glasses hiding her eyes and her lips shining deep pink as they held a perfect smile.

She’d even changed the outfit she was going to wear when Rush came to our room with the news about the paparazzi outside. Instead of the lovely but simple green sundress that she’d been wearing, she’d quickly changed into something more luxurious and expensive. It looked like a white power suit, except that the middle was a corset in glittery gold, a skirtlike flare sticking out at her hips.

“It’s a peplum,” she told me when she saw my baffled look. I had no clue what that was, but I nodded.

Following my father down the front steps, we braced for the explosive questions and flashing lights of the cameras. “Maverick!” someone shouted. “What do you think about your brother’s death?”

“Maverick, Maverick!” someone else demanded. “Is it true you’ve been running this country from the shadows all this time?”

“Are you here to take the crown?”

“Will you move into the castle?”

“Is it true you changed your last name?”

The reporters got too close, screaming questions at my parents. I was partially blinded by all the flashes, and I wished that I’d worn sunglasses like my mother. “Hey!” one of the paparazzi shouted. “Hey, Maverick, why don’t you get the fuck out of here, huh?”

I turned, squinting to see who was saying such bold things to my father. Didn’t they know who he was?Of course they do, that’s why they’re so angry.

“What did you do, run away? Abandon your country, hightail it out of here when your daddy got sick because you couldn’t handle the pressure? Hester ruined Torino, do you get that? Your brother was a piece of shit. And you’re a piece of shit, too!”

I saw the man now; he was wearing a badge like all the other paparazzi, so he wasn’t just some crazy rando in the street. People were videotaping the encounter. My father faced the car with stiff shoulders. He seemed frozen with inaction. I’d never seen him take such abuse so quietly.

My mother put a hand out, comforting him. I couldn’t hear what she said over the murmur of the crowd. But I did hear what the reporter yelled.

“Is that who you left us for, some piece of ass?”

Anger turned my blood hot.

“Was she worth it? Was the bitch worth making the rest of us suffer thanks to you being a goddamn coward?”

“Hey!” I shouted, stomping toward the man. He’d pushed forward so much that he was leaning over the arm of one of the security guards.

“Hawthorne, no,” my mom hissed.

---