Page 41 of Royally Arranged

The ecstasy in her eyes made me certain she would.

My dreams were filled with visions of rosy nipples and cinnamon eyes.

All impossibly seductive.

All belonging to Nova.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

That irritating noise jammed its way into my dream, prying the soft, sweet images away and leaving me with nothing but an early-morning headache. Cracking my weary lids, I stared around the room. It wasn’t familiar; it took me a second to remember I was in the castle.

The tapping came again.Who the hell is knocking?I wondered, throwing off my covers. I’d gone to sleep in just my boxers. My little chat with Nova had given me terrible blue balls. Taking care of that had kept me up for an extra hour.

Again, more loud knocking. “Hang on!” I shouted, snatching some pants off the back of a chair. I stumbled into them, barely clasping the top button before I ripped the door open. Standing outside was a young woman in a dark gray dress. Her blonde hair was braided over her shoulder, and a thin pair of glasses perched on her nose. “Morning, sir.”

Palming my forehead, I yawned until my jaw creaked. “What is it, what do you want so badly that you had to knock my door down?”

She offered me a slip of paper. It was thick, pale yellow card stock. On it was a scribbled list; I recognized my mother’s handwriting. “This is for you. It’s your schedule for the coming weeks.”

Rubbing my eyeballs, I squinted. “Dinner with the head of infrastructure ... lunch with the stable master ...croquetwith the entire Maurine Symphony?” I read aloud. Not a single day of the month wasn’t filled with shit. At the very bottom was an item that made me tense.

The Royal Wedding.

“Sir,” she said, hands folded primly in front of her. “Unless you need something else ...”

“What?” I’d forgotten she was even there. “No. Just—I’m fine.” I waved a hand absently. “You can leave.”

Bowing her head, the woman whose name I never got left me alone. I crumpled the list into a firm ball and threw it in the corner. This was the same junk I’d rejected years ago and gone out of my way to sidestep. But there was no dark strip club to hide away in here.

I’d nearly shut the door when a new voice stopped me. “Thorne! Good, you’re awake,” my mother said, swinging her way inside. Even though it couldn’t possibly be past breakfast time, she was dressed to the nines in a sky-blue-and-magenta lace gown. Her hair was braided into a crown on her head, the sight of it reminding me of the coronation, of the list.

Swallowing my rising bile, I smiled at her. “You’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Ma.”

Closing the door, she beamed at me. She held a small box no bigger than a chocolate bar. Her attention went straight to the plastic bags full of merchandise in the corner. “Iwasgoing to see if you still needed me to have someone rush out and buy you something nice for today, but it looks like you bought an entire department store.”

“I’m wounded,” I said, putting a hand to my bare chest. “Do you think all of that is for me?” I fished in the bags and grabbed a medium-size box, then passed it to her. “No good son goes shopping without buying his mom something pretty.”

Her rouge lips thinned as her smile kept growing. “You didn’t!” She yanked the silver Louis Vuitton bracelet out, gasping. “It’s perfect. Just perfect.”

Stretching, I glanced over the pile, trying to remember which bag held my new clothes. “Anyway, don’t bother sending anyone out on some fancy suit quest. I bought an outfit for today, figured I needed something expensive-looking for the photos.”

“It’s nice to see you taking this seriously.” But by the way she squinted at me, I knew she was wondering where my change of heart had come from. “Thanks for this,” she said, tucking the jewelry back in the box. “Coincidentally I brought a gift for you, too.” She held up the box she’d entered with. Opening it under my nose, my mother winked. “Aren’t they pretty?”

There was black velvet inside. Sitting about half an inch apart were several stunning diamond rings. She didn’t have to explain. I knew what these were meant for.

“Now,” she went on, talking through the pulsing in my skull, “I swiped these from the royal vault with Glen’s help. I’m not sure what they’re each worth, but looking at them, any one of these will do the trick.”

My entire jaw was suddenly heavy. “Any one, huh?” I mumbled with difficulty.

“Yes, they’re all suitable. It doesn’t really matter which you pick.”

“Just like your sons, then.” I backed away from the box. “Long as we get the job done, who cares?”

She drew herself up, bristling and snapping the case closed. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying Dad doesn’t care who he throws to the Valentines. If Kain or Costello were free, he’d have picked one of them for this marriage before me. Am I wrong?”

Disgust smoldered in her eyes. I knew mine mirrored hers. “Hawthorne Luca Badd, you need to watch your fucking tone. Your father and I are doing our best with this situation. We’re trying to help you.”

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