Page 30 of Royally Arranged

Ignoring her, I went nose to nose with the reporter. I saw Rush nearby, his eyebrows arched with panic. They’d been ready to stop the paparazzi, but not ready to stop me. “I don’t know who you are,” I said, looming over him, “but you need to back off. Now.”

The man gave a haphazard grin. His eyes flashed toward my mother, then back to me. “Who are you? Huh? Her personal bodyguard? Sleeping with her and Maverick in some twisted little ménage?”

A tornado of fury made my vision swim. “Stop saying sick shit about my mom, or you’re going to be finding out what your camera tastes like.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yourmom? That makes you Maverick’s son?”

My mother grabbed my wrist, taking me toward the car. I couldn’t rip my eyes away from that asshole, I stared at him until I was in the vehicle and behind the tinted windows.

“Fuck, that pisses me off,” I said softly. My mother gave my wrist a pat. Turning, I looked at my dad. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He stared straight ahead. “What could I say? They’re not wrong. I did run away.”

Thrown off, I bent around my mom, yelling at him. My voice was louder than it needed to be in the car but I didn’t care. “Not about that! That guy was insulting yourwife.”

Maverick blinked. He turned, looking at me, then to my mother. Firmly, he took her hands, cupping them in his. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Carmina. I was ... distracted.” He winced, and I thought, if I wasn’t there, he would have told her more.

Instead he went quiet, aided by her head falling on his shoulder. “It’s all right. Those bastards out there are small potatoes. You ever listen to the gossip rags in Providence? They’ve said way worse things about me than these schmucks.”

She brushed it off so casually. I actually believed that the words thrown at her hadn’t hurt her at all. But they’d sliced right through me. I loved my mother with all I had, and I wasn’t sure I could control myself if the paparazzi went off on her in front of me again.

Picturing that man’s face whenever I shut my eyes, I instead stared out the window at the busy streets for the entire trip. None of us spoke, though my dad did field a few text messages. Business never stopped for him.

The Valentines were waiting for us in a beautiful garden patio that was hidden at the back of the Tin Whistle Grill. It was quiet, I was sure the servers had arranged to keep our sequestered table more private than usual. The sky could be glimpsed through the wooden beams overhead. Vines hung with trumpet-shaped flowers draped the beams from end to end. Tiny hummingbirds the color of overripe grapes darted through the air, helping themselves to the nectar.

It was a fantastical sight, but my interest lay in something even more attractive.

Nova sat at the table with her hands folded in her lap. She was wearing a layered dress the color of cream soda. It made her cinnamon eyes look extra vibrant. Her hair was braided in a design that kept her neck exposed.

Kurtis and Valencia were sitting to her left. On her right was a young woman I’d seen with them at the funeral. I assumed this was her sister, Darla. The green top she had on was clinging to her breasts like a pair of angry hands. If her long ringlets hadn’t been draped over her shoulders to hide most of her cleavage, the outfit would have been too obscene to wear in public.

I was relieved that none of Nova’s brothers were around. I’d be happy to never see them again. Approaching the table, I placed myself directly in front of Nova. “Hey there,” I said with a smile.

“Hey,” she responded. When I rested my hands on the table, she looked at them. I wondered if she was remembering how they had felt on her body. How they had felt inside her. With a slight grin, I flexed my two fingers, like I was scratching at the tabletop.

Nova swallowed, shifting from side to side. Yes, she definitely remembered how my fingers had felt inside her tight pussy last night.

“Kurtis,” my father said as he sat down beside me. My mother joined him, nodding politely at the others.

“I hope you didn’t wait long,” she said. “This is a lovely place.”

“It is,” Valencia agreed. “And I’ve heard that the crab bisque they serve is divine.”

Their empty back-and-forth instantly got under my skin. “All right,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Are we all just going to pretend that this is a normal lunch we’re having here? Because I’m not that great at playing pretend.”

The girl I didn’t know giggled. It was a sharp sound, too loud, too enthusiastic to be real. “Youarefunny,” she said, folding her hands under her chin and leaning my way over the table.

The way she called me funny reminded me disturbingly of Larchmont.

“I’m Darla, by the way.” She extended her arm toward me. Her hands looked smooth, with the same healthy tan that the rest of the Valentines had. While Nova kept her nails clean and bare, her sister wore glittery purple polish.

I gripped her hand. “I’m Hawthorne, but I’m guessing you knew that. We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

She held my hand like she didn’t want me to pull away. When I did, her smile twitched but stayed on her face. “So you do remember me. I got to visit your lovely estate a while back.”

I’d recognized Darla easier than I had Nova, which filled me with shame. But Darla was just the type of girl who drew attention to herself. Even if it wasn’t the best kind of attention, even if it didn’t endear me to her, she knew how to draw you in. It leaked out of her every movement.

The air around her seemed to attract and confuse the hummingbirds. Her perfume made her smell sweet, but there was no nourishment here for the birds. Everything about this girl was a lie within a lie, and she definitely fit in with her family more than Nova did.

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