A Royal Mistake (The Rooftop Crew Book 2)

by Piper Rayne

  “It’s beautiful,” I say.

  Felicia walks by me and opens a door. “Your private bathroom is in here.”

  “Thank you.” I stand in the middle of the room, not wanting to touch anything because it all looks so perfect.

  “I’m sure Adrian will find his way to you at some point.” She heads for the door.

  “Felicia?” I say, and she turns around, tucking a stray chestnut strand that escaped her ponytail behind her ear. “Tell me the truth. Does everyone here hate me?”

  Her shoulders slump and she shuts the door before closing the distance between us. “Adrian put you in a tough position when he decided to bring you here. There’s a lot going on in our family at the moment, and the fact that he picked now to fall in love isn’t ideal.”

  I touch her arm to reassure her. “He’s not in love.”

  She looks at me for a moment. “Guess we’ll see.”

  She walks out of the room, and when the big door shuts, my heart free falls to my stomach.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Adrian

  Bang.

  My dad’s fist lands on the table. “This is it. We gave you what you wanted. Why must you always push our buttons?”

  I cross my arms and widen my stance. “Because I don’t want this life. I’ve been clear for years about that. I don’t want to marry a woman I don’t love. I don’t want a marriage like you and Mom.”

  My mom enters the room without a knock or announcement. She moves across the room with the grace of a queen, her warm hands on my cheeks as I bend down to kiss hers.

  “Adrian,” she says, love laced in the letters of my name.

  “Mother,” I say.

  “Good to have you home.” Her eyes close briefly and she inhales like she’s a dog that needs to smell her offspring.

  “Thank you.”

  My dad stares at my mom, and she nods. When I was younger, I thought they were so in love they could communicate without words, but I was clearly wrong.

  “I put her in the east wing,” my mom tells him.

  “She’ll be moving to the west wing with me,” I inform them.

  “No, she won’t.” My father’s fingers wrap around the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.

  “It’s not up for discussion.”

  Neither of them say anything.

  “Are you getting a divorce?” I ask.

  They exchange a look. “Yes,” they say in unison.

  “So I’m to be King?” A sour taste coats my mouth.

  “You will be once we go public,” my dad says.

  “Actually, not until I marry.”

  “Correct,” my mother says. “But you cannot marry Sierra.”

  I cock my head at her. It’s not like I’ve even mentioned marrying Sierra, but it pisses me off nonetheless that she’s trying to tell me who I can and cannot spend my life with. “Why would that be?”

  “Darling, she’s not ready or groomed to be Queen. Plus, she’s not from Sandsal or a country that even has a monarchy. She’s from the States. I’m not sure she could do the job that’s required.” She sits in a chair, patting the one next to her. “Come and sit. Let’s talk about this. She’s a beautiful girl, but she’s not queen material.”

  I don’t sit, and I don’t remove my arms from their crossed position. “You don’t even know her.”

  “I know her type. I saw her film bits on that local television show after Felicia told me she was the one who won the contest. We thought she’d be good because she’d give you some good publicity, not overhaul your life.”

  I hold up my hand. “Please stop. I like Sierra a lot.”

  “Like is not love, darling,” she says as if I’m a five-year-old who couldn’t possibly understand.

  I laugh. “Oh, did you have to love someone to rule this country? I wasn’t aware of that.” I look between my parents, my accusation clear.

  My mom scowls and my dad shakes his head.

  “This is why we suggested Princess Adelaide,” Mom says. “Your father and I put a lot of thought into that arrangement. She’s beautiful and smart and does so much with children.”

  “I don’t love her.” I don’t add that I can barely tolerate her.

  My father rounds the desk. “Exactly, so then you’ll have a clear head to rule. How exactly will you make decisions when people are scrutinizing you for not following rules this family has set out for centuries?”

  “You seemed to be able to when you were sleeping with someone on your desk.”

  My father’s nostrils flare and I want to laugh. Stop casting stones when they can ricochet off me and back on to you.

  “He’s impossible,” he says to my mother as if I’m no longer there.

  “Now, I want to show her the grounds. Excuse me.”

  My hand is on the doorknob when my mother speaks. “Just so you know, the press has already caught wind of your little friend. You might want to have a look.”

  I say nothing and walk through the door, shutting it behind me. Pulling out my phone, I type in a search for my name, and the first article that pops up has a picture of us stepping off the plane. Sierra’s red hair blows over her face and I’m looking at her as though she’s my everything. And she is.

  The headline reads, “Prince Adrian brings home more than souvenirs.”

  I scan the article while making my way to the east wing. The article isn’t exactly nice to Sierra, but it’s not horrible either. It’s clear she’s disliked though because she means change and everyone in this country hates change. My parents are so worried about the public coffers closing if we face enough disapproval to abolish the monarchy, but I say good riddance. It would take some getting used to, but I’d manage.

  Stuffing my phone into my pocket, I knock on the door of her guest room. Just hearing her feet on the marble floor makes my heart thump. She opens the door and my arms swallow her up as I kick the door shut.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, then my lips land on hers.

  “It’s lonely here.”

  “Don’t worry, Daddy’s here.” My fingers fumble with the zipper on her dress and she giggles as we fall to the bed.

  “Yeah, no Daddy stuff,” she says, her hands running down the back of my neck.

  “Okay.” I laugh.

  She presses her hand to my chest and slides away from me. “So what happened with your parents?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” I dive down for another kiss, but she dodges me. “Sierrrrraaaa,” I whine like Rowan would.

  “Your mother and father were both kind of cold to me. They don’t like me.”

  I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “They’re old-school. They want me to do what they want me to do. It’s nothing against you personally.”

  She slides up the bed and I want to start kicking and screaming. “What if they never warm up to me? I’m sure they blame me for you not marrying Adelaide.”

  “No, they blame me. They’ve known for a long time it’s not what I wanted.” I crawl on my hands and knees to get near her again, but she rolls to the side and off the bed.

  “Adrian, this is serious.”

  My head falls back to the mattress and I fling my arm over my eyes. “They’ll get over it. They always do.”

  When I crashed the Alfa Romeo at sixteen, they bought me a new one. After the prom when I flew everyone to our house in the Alps and threw a party everyone still talks about, they forgave me. I’ve done a lot of crap they’ve had to forgive me for, falling for someone who doesn’t have an aristocratic bloodline can be added to the list.

  “I know you think that because they’ve never disowned you after all your stupid stunts, but this is different. This is your country. This is your family obligation.” She sits on the edge of the bed.

  I roll toward her and put my head in her lap. She runs her short nails over the back of my scalp, and my eyes drift closed.

  “I can tell they’re
not happy about me being here,” she whispers.

  Truth is, I know that, and I wasn’t surprised when my family ambushed me in the study. “I’ll handle it.”

  “I want us to handle it.”

  I turn and look up at her. Her fingers run down my now beard.

  “I’m worried, Adrian. I don’t fit in here and they know it.” She’s being vulnerable, which shows me how scared she is.

  I sit up and take her in my arms, laying us down on the bed together. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere, okay? This isn’t something I’m going to wake up feeling different about.”

  She nods, but there’s a slight hesitation.

  “Now where’s your bag? You’re coming to my quarters.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Your mom already thinks I’m some hussy. I’m not going to sleep in your bed under your parents’ roof. It’s completely disrespectful.”

  “Need I remind you what we did under your dad’s roof?” I let my hand trail down and take a firm grip of one of her ass cheeks.

  She smacks me in the chest.

  I chuckle, holding up my hand. “Okay. Okay. You can stay here, and I’ll sneak down during the night.”

  A soft knock lands on the door. I know that knock well.

  Sierra slides out of my hold and sits up on the bed, adjusting her dress and her hair.

  “Come in,” I call.

  Rowan opens the door, runs in, and jumps on the bed.

  “What’s up, little man?” I ask.

  “Mom told me to tell Sierra that dinner is at seven.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Want to play Dance Party?” he asks Sierra.

  “Not now,” I say.

  “Sure,” Sierra says at the same time.

  Rowan takes her hand. “Let’s go to the media room. Are you coming, Adrian?”

  Sierra smiles at me over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, I’m coming,” I say.

  Rowan talks to Sierra the entire way to the media room.

  Once they start dancing, it’s the first time since we arrived that the tension Sierra’s carrying lifts and she’s back to being the woman I love. My mind trips over the word.

  Sierra does a dance and Rowan totally schools her on the moves. She picks him up and swings him around, and he laughs when she tosses him on the couch.

  Yeah, Felicia might be right. I do love her.

  Chapter Thirty

  Sierra

  Dinner with the Marx family is formal. There’s no eating around the television like my dad and I used to do, which I assumed when Adrian told me to wear a dress. Too bad Rian only packed me the dresses I wear on interviews and for funerals. I get her reasoning, but they make me feel uncomfortable and less like myself.

  After winding through the formal living room because I got lost, I step into the dining room. Adrian’s mom is there, inspecting the place settings, straightening forks and knives.

  “Are you enjoying your arrangements?” she asks, never looking at me.

  “They’re very nice. Thank you for having me.”

  “We didn’t have much choice, did we?” She moves a goblet an inch to the right.

  “I’m sorry if you feel as though you were ambushed. I wasn’t aware Adrian didn’t tell you to expect me.”

  “Thank you for that, Sierra.”

  “There you are. I went to grab you.” Adrian comes in, his arms stretching across my stomach and his mouth attaching to my neck.

  I don’t reciprocate and catch his mother watching her son maul me in front of her.

  “Don’t,” I whisper.

  But Adrian doesn’t listen because he doesn’t care what his parents think. He goes to the table and switches a few name tags around. “I’ll be sitting next to Sierra, Mother.”

  “Oh, I had no idea how Ned arranged them. I haven’t gotten there yet,” she lies. I saw her straighten two name tags before she said anything to me.

  Adrian slides a chair out for me. “Come, babe.”

  Felicia and Rowan join us, and Felicia says, “Now, Rowan, slide out my chair like Adrian is for Sierra.”

  “What are you doing to him?” Adrian asks, shaking his head.

  “He has to learn what a king does since you’re going to abandon your post,” Felicia responds, sitting graciously. Her chest hits the table when Rowan isn’t strong enough to push in the chair.

  “He’s not going to be king,” Adrian says, sitting next to me.

  “Really? Then who is?” Felicia takes the napkin out of the holder and lays it in her lap. “Not you. You’re running from those responsibilities.”

  “Come on, you two. Let’s have a nice dinner. Adrian is finally back, and we have Sierra here,” the queen says.

  Adrian squeezes my hand under the table as though we’re making progress.

  “Did you know I handpicked you? Did Adrian tell you that?” Felicia says across the table from me.

  Rowan gets in his chair and makes a triangle out of his name tag.

  “Right here, bud.”

  Adrian puts his fingers up like a goalpost and Rowan shoots the triangle across the table. It goes through and Adrian cheers for him. They switch duties and Adrian points the triangle piece of paper at Rowan, who has his fingers up as a goalpost.

  “I wasn’t aware,” I answer Felicia, smiling at Adrian and his brother.

  “I did it because you were a reporter. I have one question for you.” She looks around. Thankfully, the queen has left to go to the kitchen.

  “What?”

  “Felicia, let it rest,” Adrian says, but he continues to play with Rowan.

  “I like her, Felicia,” Rowan says, and he shoots me a smile that reveals he’s still losing some of his teeth.

  “Are you doing all this because you want to get some scoop on our family? Maybe for a raise or a promotion or something?”

  “Felicia,” Adrian says, his voice one of warning.

  I squeeze his hand. “I was actually asked to dig up information on Adrian. I was told that the interview he promised me would need a hook.” I glance around the immediate area. “He’s informed me of some of the problems here, and I didn’t for one second consider using it for my own gain. I’m not in this for professional reasons, but I don’t expect you to believe me.”

  Felicia glances at Adrian, who puts his arm around the back of my chair. “Okay. That’s all I needed to know.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to someone.”

  Adrian squeezes my shoulder and leans close, his game with Rowan over. “She knows. We know.”

  He kisses my neck right under my ear, and I want to push him away, tell him not to show me any physical affection. But at the same time, his touch makes me believe what he told me earlier, that he’s not going to wake up one day and change his mind about what he wants.

  The king and queen enter the dining room together, not holding hands or wearing a smile. But the king follows the queen to her seat, slides out her chair, and tucks it back in after she sits. Then he takes his seat at the other end of the table.

  A server comes round and pours wine for all the adults and what I assume is juice for Rowan. No one says much, not even Rowan, who hasn’t shut up anytime I’ve been around him.

  “We’ll be going into town tomorrow,” Adrian says, bringing a spoonful of soup to his mouth.

  “The press will spot you. Take Clyde with you,” his mom says, never looking up from her bowl.

  “I’m going to drive us myself. I don’t need Clyde,” Adrian says.

  His dad puts down his spoon and wipes his face. “With Sierra tagging along, you cannot handle all that attention without Clyde. For her safety, and your own, you should take security with you.”

  Adrian shrugs. “We’ll see. Maybe he can follow me.”

  “What are you doing in town?” Felicia asks.

  “I’m just taking her to see some of Sandsal.”

  “A country you’re so ashamed of?” the king as
ks.

  “I could use some new clothes,” I add, trying my best to participate in the conversation. “My friend packed for me and some of her choices…”

  “I was going to have someone come to the house to fit you for a few outfits. We have a gala this weekend, and you’re going to accompany me to a charity event next week.” His mom cuts up her meat as if she’s mastered an etiquette class.

  “Oh, that’s not necessary.”

  His mom pauses mid-cut and glances at me. I try to ignore how unnerved that makes me. She’s watching me the same way she did when Adrian entered the room and kissed my neck. As though she’s surprised.

  “Be careful. You know how the press is when you’ve been gone a long time,” the king says to Adrian, who doesn’t bother to respond.

  I’ve sat through many uncomfortable dinners—ones where my dad barely talked, the one where I had to meet Fae and she kept telling me how much she enjoyed spending time with my father, the first dinner with Ethan and Blanca as a couple, their hands disappearing under the table. But no dinner has ever been as uncomfortable as this one.

  “This is the small downtown area.” Adrian points at the cobblestone road that leads to what appears to be a small town where buildings are built on top of buildings. It’s quaint and reminds me of something you’d see on a postcard. “I would’ve liked to drive you myself, but my father is right. Your safety is my first concern.”

  Clyde opens up my door and I step out, the sun shining on us.

  Adrian follows and his hand finds mine. “I have a chocolate shop I want to show you first.”

  He walks as though he’s on a mission, and I struggle to keep up. A few people point and whisper, but they’re smiling. It’s what I imagine being with a celebrity walking down Hollywood Boulevard in LA must feel like, but Adrian seems oblivious to it.

  He opens the door of the shop and the sweet aroma of chocolate fills my nostrils.

  “I love it already.” I walk through the tables filled with chocolate-coated everything from Rice Krispies Treats to raisins.

  There’s a small cafe attached to the shop, where Adrian disappears while I take an offered sample from the man behind the counter.