Page 9 of Royally Arranged

Her injury didn’t slow her down. Together we strolled the cobbled lane, heading up a steep slope until we came to a little building with an outdoor balcony. “What a view,” I murmured, shading my eyes and staring out at the blue waves.

“Right?” She sat down at the tiny table. It was so small that when I joined her, our legs accidentally touched. Nova didn’t pull away. Smiling, she played with the saltshaker. “I’ve always loved Torino.”

“Do you live here?”

“Oh no.” She set the saltshaker down and pulled her hands into her lap. “I just travel here most summers.”

“It’s my first time,” I said. “It’s nicer than I imagined.”

“What did you imagine?”

Stretching my arm over the back of my chair, I regarded the ocean. The boats rocking gently in the docks resembled white flower petals in a puddle. It was picturesque. Quiet. Nothing like the tragedy my father’s cautionary words had conjured up over the years.

He’d told me little about Torino, or about his bad blood with his brother. But I’d known that our heritage was dangerous ... that I was meant to keep my royalty a secret. I’d also known he used his history as a way to leverage power and favors. He’d certainly used it to help my mother’s family agree to give him whatever he needed so he could grow his own empire.

All the whispers I’d picked up while he confided in my older brother, like I wasn’t able to hear, like I wasn’t eventhere—they’d made being royalty sound like a curse.

“Thorne?”

Blinking, I realized I’d been stewing in my thoughts too long. “Sorry,” I chuckled. “Think I’m still adjusting to the time zone change.”

Nova was staring at me with her eyes wide and glassy. I knew that look. I hated that look.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, motioning for the waiter to come over. “Let’s get those drinks we talked about.”

Taking the little paper menu, I ordered myself a grilled cheese—and marveled at the price, even if it was easy for me to afford—as well as a stiff whiskey on ice. Nova didn’t even read the menu, she handed it back and asked for a glass of Moscato and their soup of the day. The drinks came quickly. “Here,” I said, lifting my glass up. “Cheers to strangers becoming friends.” She grimaced, confusing me. “Uh, you okay?”

Nova shook herself, sending her hair tumbling so it caught the light. The strands glowed like molten gold with the sun behind her. “I’m fine, really.” Her glass went up, every hint that she’d been shocked going away. “To new friends.”

Clinking my glass against hers, I took a quick sip. It burned perfectly going down. As I placed my drink on the table, I spotted something in the street nearby: a police car, different from the ones in the States, but universally recognizable. It wasn’t the same cops as earlier, but it made me think about the altercation. “What will happen to him?” I asked.

“The pickpocket?” Her chin tucked lower. “Torino has severe laws. He’ll be charged a fine, then locked up for five years.”

I clutched my glass tighter. “All that because he snatched a purse?”

“It’s the law.”

“Still seems extreme to me.”

Nova tipped her glass up, sipping. “All right, how would you do it?”

“Excuse me?”

Her eyes twinkled. “You talk like you know how to run this country. So what would the punishment be for the man that was arrested today?”

“I’m not the kind of person who knows how to run anything, believe me.”

“I don’t. Believe you, I mean.” She twirled her glass and finished it off. Her cheeks looked like candy apples. “You give off this ... natural authority.”

My grin hurt my face. “Go on.”

She held my wicked stare for a heartbeat. I was shooting mental pictures at Nova that were quite dirty andveryauthoritative. She sat up like she’d been pricked in the ass with a fork. Had my filthy thoughts penetrated her imagination? “Just tell me how you’d punish him,” she insisted.

Under the table, I slid my shoe against her ankle. I loved how her breath quickened at my touch. “Nova,” I said thickly, feeling the alcohol ... and our chemistry, “you’re really hung up on punishments. If all you want is for me to spank you, we can go somewhere and take care of that.”

The candy apples in her cheeks melted until her whole throat was glowing. “That—” she started to sputter. “I’m asking you a serious question, Thorne.”

“I’d rather drink more and take it easy. This is the kind of conversation I was trying to avoid when I went out this morning.” Her head tilted, sending her reddish hair tumbling beautifully over her shoulder. I knew she was going to ask what I was referring to. And I didn’t want to explain because, so far, I’d avoided all talk about the funeral, or who I was, or why I was really here. “Fine,” I said hurriedly. “Okay. Give me a second and I’ll answer.”

---