I believed that. Grit was not the type to gently caress…anything. “Well, I’m glad you have it now.”
“And I’m glad you have it, too,” Indiana parroted.
Greer pointed at Indiana. “I like you.”
Indiana looked Greer up and down as much as she could. “You’re pretty fancy, but I like you, too.”
Greer scoffed. “I look the part. None of this is really who I am. I’d much rather be in sweatpants and a tank top. I just know how to dress for the occasion.” Greer winked at Indiana. “Barge into my room ten minutes after getting ready for bed and you’ll see the real me.”
Indiana wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I could do the mafia wife thing. Too many appearances to keep up. I’m more keen to the biker life. Wear whatever the hell you want. Eat whatever the hell you want. Have a badass alpha on your arm.”
Greer laughed. “I have the last two. The dressing part I don’t.”
“Two out of three isn’t bad,” I laughed. Greer did dress a little bit fancier than Indiana or I did, but it wasn’t like she was draped in pearls and walking around in ballgowns.
She wore slacks more often than jeans, and she typically had on a sweater or cardigan. I’m sure whatever she wore was name brand and probably cost more than my rent at my old apartment. But she did always look comfortable. There was comfortable fancy and then there was fancy where you looked like you would break or crack if you looked the wrong way.
“I’m sure Marco wouldn’t care what you wore.” Greer laughed. “And I’m pretty sure if anyone said one word against you they wouldn’t be able to get another one out before Marco has his Italian loafers up their ass.”
Indiana wagged her finger at Greer and laughed. “I like you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Marco isn’t putting his foot up anyone’s ass because there is nothing going on between us.”
Greer and Indiana eyed each other knowingly.
“I was the same way with Frost. If his attraction was a snake, it would have to bite me before I realized he liked me.” Indiana tsked. “You were the one who had all those words of wisdom for me about Frost.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s much easier to see what is going on with other people than it is yourself. And all I told you was that I could see that you two were in love.”
“Then I guess you need to listen to Indiana and me because Marco wants you.” Greer leaned toward me. “Bad.”
“I am nine months pregnant, ready to pop a baby out of my vagina. I am the least attractive woman on the planet right now.” These two were absolutely crazy.
“What are you guys talking about?” Fayth sat in the chair Marco had been in, and I froze.
Oh, God.
Kill me now.
Greer smirked.
No.
We were not going to have a reenactment of breakfast when Greer was blabbing about Marco and me.
Especially not when his mother was sitting right next to me.
“Royal thinks she’s ugly because she’s about to shoot a baby out of her vagina.”
“Indiana,” I hissed. And here I thought Indiana would be on my side when she got here.
Wrong.
“We talking about shooting babies out of our vaginas?” Cyn called from the end of the table.
Oh, God. Again.
Everyone could hear what we were talking about.
“No,” I shouted. “Not talking about that at all.”
Cyn frowned. “Maybe I need to get my hearing checked, but I am damn sure that is exactly what you said.”
Indiana laughed. “It was.”
I couldn’t trust anyone anymore.
Greer was a traitor, and now, so was Indiana.
I was going to put an ad in the paper and try to find a new best friend. One that wouldn’t embarrass me and tell me Marco liked me.
It was time for me to crawl into bed and forget the past ten minutes of my life.
I grabbed my empty plate that was in front of Fayth and stood. “Well, this was fun, but it’s time for me to take my whale ass to sleep.”
Indiana sputtered, and Cyn snorted.
“Honey, you are far from a whale.” Meg, who was sitting next to Cyn, grabbed a chip from her plate and popped it into her mouth. “I can’t even tell you’re pregnant from behind.”
“A behind that I would kill for right now,” Cyn added.
They could have my ass if I could just escape to my room right now.
“Where are you going?” Marco asked. He stood behind Greer with a plateful of food in his hand and a fork in the other.
“Bed.” I know I had promised him that I would be here when he came back to the table, but I hadn’t planned on being ambushed in his leave. He could come with me for all I cared as long as I wasn’t standing in the dining room talking about shooting babies out of my vagina.
“Are you okay?” Marco asked. His voice was laced with concern, and he really had no idea why I was running away.
“Just tired.” I pasted a smile on my face. And felt slightly embarrassed.
Marco tipped his head to the side and studied me. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
“You don’t need to do that,” I insisted. He didn’t need to be pulled away from his dinner because I was running away.
“No,” Greer called. She turned and looked at Marco. “You totally should walk her to her room. That’s so chivalrous of you.”
Oh, Lord. What the hell was Greer trying to do now?
“Please don’t,” I pleaded. I glanced helplessly at Indiana, but I knew she wasn’t going to be any help.
She had a huge grin on her face. “Though you should know I’m watching you.”
Oh, God.
“Good night everyone,” I called. I dashed around the table and out of the dining room. Well, as much dashing as a nine-month pregnant woman could do.
“Royal,” Marco called.
Yeah, nope. I was not going to stop walking until I made it to my room.
I jogged up the stairs past two guys I couldn’t remember their names and felt that nagging pain in my stomach again.
“Would you slow down,” Marco called.
I glanced behind me and saw he was only a few feet from me. I turned toward my bedroom and speed walked through the pain.
“Royal,” he called again. “Slow down or you are going to hurt yourself.”
I reached my door and pushed it open. I tried to slam it shut, but Marco had his foot blocking it.
“What in the hell are you jogging through the house for?” he demanded.
I rolled my eyes and moved to the bathroom. “I wasn’t jogging. I’m tired and I wanted to go to bed.”
Marco set his plateful of food on the dresser and licked his thumb.
The damn man needed to stop licking his fingers. It was doing butterfly things to my stomach, and I wasn’t ready for it.
I pushed open the bathroom door and closed it behind me. Thankfully, this time, Marco didn’t barge in.
I had two choices.
I could get ready for bed and then walk out of the bathroom.
Or, I could get ready for bed, and then see about making a bed in the bathtub with all of the towels.
My back ached at the thought of laying in the bathtub so I knew I was going to have to walk out of the bathroom eventually.
Maybe I could wait him out and then he would just leave.
“I’m not leaving until you come out of the bathroom, Royal.”
My jaw dropped, and I stared at the bathroom door. “Could you please stop reading my mind,” I shouted.
I heard his gravelly chuckle and knew he had a sexy smirk on his lips. My heart did a flip at the thought of it.
“What is wrong with you?” I hissed at myself.
“Are you talking to me?” Marco called.
Ugh. How had I gotten myself into this situation? “I just want to go to bed, Marco.”
“I’m not stopping you, Royal,” he replied.
“You
’re standing in my damn bedroom,” I whispered.
“You’re going to have to talk louder if you want me to hear you.”
I stomped my foot. “I’m not talking to you.”
“But I’m sure you’re talking about me.”
“How pompous of you,” I shouted.
“I heard you that time.”
Ugh. The man was intentionally being irritating. I marched to the door and flung it open. “What are you doing?” I demanded.
Marco stood by the dresser with a stuffed mushroom in his hand, halfway to his mouth. “Eating?”
I walked out of the bathroom and stood in front of him. “I meant what are you doing eating here?”
He shrugged and popped the mushroom into his mouth. “Eating?”
Ugh. The man knew exactly what I was asking. “Marco.”
“Royal.”
“Why are you in my bedroom right now when there is a crap-ton of people downstairs you can talk to?”
He shrugged. “Uh, because I don’t really want to talk to them right now.”
“But they are your guests,” I insisted.
He shook his head. “Those are your guests, mio amore. I’m just supplying the house, food, and booze for them to be here so you have your friend near.”
“I didn’t ask for all of them to come,” I insisted.
“I know. I believe you. You haven’t been around the club long enough to know that if you invite one or two of the women, that all of them are going to show up.”
“And you know that?”
He nodded and popped another mushroom into his mouth. “Is there crab in these?” he asked.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I have no idea. I think Meg made them.”
Marco grabbed a napkin and dabbed his mouth. “I might have to get more of them.”
I pointed to the door. “You should. I’ll make sure to lock the door after you.” The second he stepped out of this room, he was not going to be let back in. I didn’t know what the hell I was feeling when he was around, and the more he was around, the more confused I got.
I should hate him.
My brother was gone because of him and he was never going to come back no matter what Marco said or did.
But my damn stomach had butterflies in it and my heart kept doing flips with all of the sweet things he said to me.
“I’ll just call down to Bristol and ask her to bring some more up.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped in it. “Did you need anything?” he asked.
“To go to sleep,” I growled.
He finished typing and slid his phone back in his pocket. “I asked her to bring you up some chamomile tea. It will help you to fall asleep.”
I stomped my foot. “Stop being so considerate. I don’t know what to do with you!” The words were out of my mouth before I could tamp them down. “I need to hate you, and you are making that hard.”
“Why do you need to hate me?” he asked.
“Because…because…” I couldn’t even get the words out because they weren’t true anymore.
Grit wasn’t dead because of Marco.
Grit was dead because that was just how life went. Some of us didn’t make it until they were gray and old.
That wasn’t Grit’s fate.
He had lived a life that had caught up with him, and I was just going to have to live with it.
I was as much to blame for Grit’s death as Marco was. Things happened and decisions were made that in the end, didn’t end well.
“I need to hate you because I don’t know what else to do with you,” I blurted.
He tipped his head to the side. “I can list at least three other things you could do with me right now instead of hating me.”
A knock sounded on the door. He pointed at me to stay and moved to the door.
He grabbed a tray without a word and shut the door in Bristol’s face.
“You could have at least said thank you,” I scolded.
Marco set the tray on the dresser next to his plate. “I’ll tell her tomorrow.”
“I don’t know what the heck we are doing here, Marco.”
“You’ve already said that.” He lifted the lid on the domed plate and smiled. “She added some cherry almond bread, too.”
“You better save me some,” I called. I had intended to grab some dessert on the way to my room, but I had made so swift of an exit that I had forgotten.
“Half is yours, mio amore.” He grabbed another mushroom and popped it into his mouth.
“Stop calling me that.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because it means ‘my love.’”
He smirked. “I don’t need a language lesson, Royal. I know what it means.”
“Well, then, stop saying it,” I insisted. I wasn’t his love, so when he said it he didn’t mean it.
“I thought you were getting ready for bed?” he asked.
“I was, but you’re in here.”
“So you don’t want to be away from me either?”
“What?” I gasped. “I never said that.” I tipped my head to the side. “Did you say either?”
Marco laughed and loosened his tie. “You caught that, huh?” He completely untied his tie and dropped it on the dresser.
“Why are you getting undressed?” I asked.
“Because I’m trying to get comfortable.” He kicked off his shiny, black, expensive shoes. “Did you want to watch some of that show you like?”
My brain scrambled when he unbuttoned the two top buttons of his shirt. “Uh, show?” I couldn’t even remember what the question had been.
“Get ready for bed, Royal.” He grabbed his plate, added a few more mushrooms to it, and moved over to the bed.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m going to find the remote and then finish eating my dinner.” He grabbed the remote from the nightstand and tossed it on the bed. “Change and come to bed.”
What was happening? And why did I want to listen to him? His voice was firm, but it was soothing at the same time.
“What is happening, Marco?” I asked.
He climbed into bed and sat back on the stack of black and white pillows. “This is you and me not fighting whatever it is that is happening between us. We’re not going to fight in general.”
Well, that was an easy answer.
“Why shouldn’t we fight?”
He shrugged and pointed the remote at the TV. “Because there are tons of things that are better than fighting.”
“Like what?” I demanded.
“Do you want the PG list, or the NC-17 list?”
My cheeks heated at his words. “Marco,” I gasped.
“PG list it is,” he laughed.
“Is this like me making a list of all of the rooms you have?”
He shook his head. “Not even close, mio amore.”
I ignored the nickname. It wasn’t worth it to argue with him about it. Besides, I kind of liked it. I just didn’t think he really understood what it means if he called me that. Maybe he called everyone that? But that would be a little awkward, right?
I shook my head. “I don’t even know what we’re talking about, Marco.” My brain couldn’t comprehend what was going on.
“We are kind of jumping all over the place, and you’re standing when you should be laying down.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know if I want you in my bed.”
He shrugged. “If you don’t know, then there might be a possibility that you do want me in your bed.”
He was supposed to be listing off…something. “What is the PG list?” I demanded. Maybe if he started listing things, I would remember what he was supposed to be listing. Hopefully.
“You sure you want to start with the PG list?” he laughed.
I glared at him and folded my arms over my chest.
“All right, all right,” he chuckled. “A PG list of things you and I could be doing instead of arguing.”
&n
bsp; Oh, right. That was what the list was about. He said he had an NC-17 list, too. We really did need to start with the PG one. “Go on.”
He nodded to the TV. “Watch whatever chick show it is you like to watch.”
“Golden Girls,” I informed him.
He nodded. “Eating dinner.”
“I already did that, and you’re doing that while you tell me this ridiculous list.” He could cross that one off the list.
“That applies to every day.” He popped another mushroom in his mouth.
I wondered how many Bristol had brought him. “Is that all you have on your list?”
He shook his head. “We could talk.”
There went my eyes rolling again. “Lame.”
“Well, the NC-17 list is much more exciting than this one. It’s your own fault that you wanted me to go over this one first.”
“How many things are on this list?” I demanded.
He shrugged. “I mean, it’s kind of a rolling list. I’m always adding things to it.”
“Tell me another thing that is on the list.” He couldn’t have many more things to add.
“Eating breakfast together.”
Now he was just splitting hairs again. “That’s the same as eating dinner together.”
He shrugged. “If you don’t like that one, you’re not going to like the next one.”
I scoffed and laughed. “Eating lunch together?”
Marco chuckled. “You got it.”
“This is ridiculous. You’re gonna say eating a snack for the next one.”
“Hop into bed with me and you’ll find out.” He patted the bed next to him. “Or, we could start going over the NC-17 list.”
“I am going to get ready for bed, but it’s only because I am getting tired.” If I stood here much longer arguing with Marco, I was going to fall asleep on my feet. “Not because you told me to get ready for bed.”
Marco nodded. “Tell me the show you want to watch, and I’ll get it started.”
I had told him the show before. “I’m not telling you again. If you can figure out which show it is, and it’s playing on the TV when I walk out of the bathroom, you can stay for a little bit.”
Marco raised his eyebrows. “You got a deal, mio amore.”
I didn’t know if he was actually going to be able to figure it out or not. The first thing he was going to have to do is determine which app on the TV I used to watch the show and then which show. “You’ve got about five minutes, Marco. Good luck.”
Royal Mess (Devil's Knights 2nd Generation Book 3) Page 10
