Page 48 of Royally Arranged

“Thorne!” Francesca squealed, leaping out the door, giving Drake a fright. She was wearing a short orange skirt and a black feathery top, her gold heels wrapping up her calves in a way that made me wonder how long it had taken her to get them off on the way through airport security.

In one arm was her huge Gucci purse. In the other was Mic, because of course she’d brought that little monster. The white dog growled, eyeing me as my sister drew close for a fierce hug. “How was the flight?” I asked.

She stuck out her tongue. “I wish we could have taken the private jet. Do you know what our plane had to watch? Gossip Girlseason two!”

I blinked. “Do you ... not like that show?”

“Oh, I love it. But what if someone hadn’t seen the first season? Do they expect them to start in the middle? I mean, come on!”

Unsure how to respond, I waved over her head. Kain waved back, busy helping his wife, Sammy, out of the car. Her loose peasant top couldn’t hide her round belly. If I remembered right, based on how my mother had screamed and cried happily for a day straight when she got the news, Sammy was six months along.

I’d teased Kain about not waiting until the ring was on her finger to knock her up. But he’d just smirked, not offended in the least.

He held her hand as they came over. Kain’s hug was quick. “Brother, you look good.”

“Thanks,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “Speaking of.” Wrapping Sammy in my arms, I carefully avoided her belly. “You look amazing, Sammy. How are you feeling?”

“Good now. I haven’t had morning sickness in a month. However, the flight was awful. Hours of waddling the aisle over and over thanks to this little guy or girl smushing my bladder.” She put her hands on her stomach, rubbing it fondly in spite of her disgusted face.

Costello approached our growing group. He was dressed in dark jeans and a dark blue shirt that I was sure he’d regret soon in this sunny heat. “Hawthorne,” he said, giving me a partial smile. “Good to see you in one piece.”

I whipped a hand over my scalp. “The country hasn’t beheaded me yet. Maybe they’re waiting until tomorrow night when the crown is actually on.”

My older brother’s smile crumpled into a hard frown.

“Thorne!” Scotch shouted, grabbing me in a hug tighter than everyone else’s.

“Hey!” Laughing, I hugged her back. “Easy, you’ll make your boyfriend jealous.”

Costello crinkled his eyebrows, his long scar shifting with the motion. But he said nothing.

“By the way,” she whispered, her mouth near my ear as we kept embracing, “I don’t want you worrying about the mess with Gina. I’ve talked to her, and she swears she’ll agree to a deal soon with her lawyers.”

I stared, not comprehending. “Oh. Right, the club.” I’d managed to forget entirely about the Dirty Dolls. It was off-putting to me that I’d actually let that drama slip my mind. The club had been such a huge part of my life; to simply forget about it, when just weeks ago I’d been sulking on its roped-off doorstep ... It was like forgetting it was your own birthday until everyone jumped out and said, “Surprise!”

Looking back at the cars, I asked, “No Lula, huh?”

Frannie buried her face in Mic’s fur. “I tried to talk her into it, but ...”

“It’s fine. Really.” I waved it off, giving her a light push toward the castle. “Go, get inside and swoon over the crystal toilets and stuff.”

“Whaaat?” she gasped. “Real crystal? Seriously?”

“Yup. Next to the diamond-crusted toothbrushes.”

Fran scowled at me before she jumped up the steps. Watching her go, I tucked my thumbs in my pockets. My smile was solid, no one could have guessed I was trying to pretend that my older sister’s absence had any effect on me.

Lulabelle’s issues with our family were well known. Ten years ago she’d been injured in an attack orchestrated by some men working for the Valentines. They’d been trying to strong-arm Costello into giving them a huge sum of cash. Lula had tried to help him out of the situation. Instead she’d ended up as bait to lure my brother into a trap.

It had been an awful experience for everyone involved. It only got worse when, after she’d recovered from her wounds, Lula had run away in the middle of the night. She’d been seventeen—the only one of us who’d never gotten her crown tattoo. It had been intentional. Her silent rejection of our royal blood.

Her absence had hung over us. The rift between my siblings and I had only grown wider with time. Then, just last year, Lula had appeared on our doorstep out of the blue. She’d said she’d missed us.

But she didn’t miss the danger associated with our family.

Ultimately, it wasn’t shocking that Lula hadn’t shown up here. But it still stung.

Costello grabbed my forearm, pulling me farther from the cars. When he spoke, he kept his voice low, for our ears only. “Why didn’t you call me?”

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