Royally Arranged (Bad Boy Royals Book 3)

by Nora Flite

  I didn’t remember walking back to the castle, but I must have, because all around me were the pale stone walls of the foyer. In my fog I ascended one of the two long staircases that flanked the entryway. Resting my arms on the banister, I observed the porters rushing around with boxes. My suitcases were being unloaded right now, no doubt.

  Up here no one noticed me. I was free to watch maids gossip to each other. I saw someone drop a suitcase so hard it had to have broken anything fragile inside, look around guiltily, then act like nothing had happened.

  Across from me, over the big doors, was a huge oil painting. It spanned most of the wall—ten feet across or more. The colors were hauntingly dark, showing a man with a russet beard and mounds of sideburns. With all that hair, he made me think of a grizzly bear that had stolen a white suit and squeezed itself into it. On his head rested a crown as stiff and severe as his stone-hard expression.

  He was standing beside a woman whose brunette curls were piled higher than a twelve-tier cake. In front of them, toy soldiers in red dress shirts and blue slacks, their shoes glistening like obsidian, were two young boys. Probably no more than eight or ten, half the size of the gigantic hunting dogs in the painting with them. Both boys had bright sapphire eyes.

  A fingertip of intuition scratched up my brain stem. That’s Dad and his brother, isn’t it? I squinted at the older couple with new appreciation. Then that must be their father and mother. Hansel . . . and Luca, the woman my middle name was birthed from.

  I could see the resemblance between them and Maverick easily. They all shared the same intense features. Had my father been humorless even as a child? Well, that’s not hard to believe. Thinking about him made my hackles rise. He thinks I’m a failure. He always had. Why did it scald me hotter now than ever before?

  Through the open doors below, a long shadow spread on the red carpet. It heralded the swaying skirt and easy grace of Nova Valentine. From where I was, I could see the part in her hair—somehow paler than the rest of her skin. It stood out from her auburn hair, guiding my eyes down like an arrow to her nose, her collarbone, and ultimately the hint of cleavage.

  This was a very, very good spot I’d picked to stand at.

  She glanced around, but it wasn’t with the same curiosity I’d had. As if she’d been in many castles and they bored her now. As if she’d been in this castle before.

  Behind her came Darla, Richard, and their mother. Then Larchmont. He walked with a swagger. I was pleased to see the purplish bruise lingering by the bridge of his nose almost a week after our fight. He, too, gazed around like he didn’t care where he was.

  He bent low, whispering to Nova. My hands crushed the banister. Nova frowned, moving away from him and vanishing down the east wing. The others followed her, the only audible noise Larchmont’s cringe-inducing laughter as it echoed around the wide foyer.

  I debated following them. My urge to talk to Nova . . . to be close to her . . . was maddening. Slow down, Casanova, I told myself. You’re acting like a lovestruck moron. While I wanted to trust Nova, I had to remember who she was. Seeing her with her family was one of the few things capable of driving a sharp, solid bolt of ice into my guts. There was no denying the physical pull between us, our sexual chemistry was out of this world. That was dangerous. Even if she had the same motives as me, a desire to avoid a bloody revolution, she was still a part of the Valentines. My enemies.

  Stepping off the last stair, I moved toward the front doors. I was hoping to find that kid Drake and learn where the hell my things were. I’d never find my bedroom in this castle without guidance.

  “Thorne,” Nova said. I froze midstep. She was standing in the hallway where I’d seen her go with her family. Now she was alone. Her expression was a mix of surprise and delight at seeing me. “When did you get here?”

  “Around half an hour ago,” I said.

  She came closer, looking from me to the doors, then back. “Were you going out?”

  Say you’re leaving. Say goodbye. Remember who she is.

  “Want to come with me?” I asked. Fuck.

  Nova’s eyes brightened. “I’d love that.”

  The way that sounded from her tongue, love, created a whirl of excitement in my belly. What’s the point in being suspicious? I asked myself, reaching for her hand. I already agreed to the marriage. Might as well go all in and enjoy it.

  “Where are we going?” She beamed as she chased me out the front of the castle.

  Scanning the area, I waved when I spotted Drake. “We’re going to indulge in something I haven’t in far too long.” He ran over, letting me whisper in his ear. He blinked, then handed me some keys while pointing at one of the many cars glistening in the gigantic driveway.

  “And what’s that?” she laughed, still holding my hand, still gripping it tight.

  I winked at her. “Retail therapy.”

  - CHAPTER FOURTEEN -

  NOVA

  I didn’t expect to be alone with Thorne again so soon. But here I was, flying down the road, wind from the open windows tossing my hair into a knot.

  “Do you mind if I put on some music?” he asked. I shook my head and he cranked the radio. Channels and static crackled through the speakers: pop music, something in French, then the tinkle of instrumental piano.

  I figured he’d keep going. He didn’t.

  “You like classical?” I asked, not able to hide my surprise.

  “I do.” His black eyes bounced to me, then back to the road. “I know. I don’t look like the type, but I actually used to play piano.”

  His long fingers, gripping the wheel, took on a new meaning. Thorne had been skilled with them, playing me like I was an instrument he knew by heart. “I always wanted to play an instrument.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Looking at my hands, I smiled solemnly. “Ah. My parents didn’t bother to let me try. I think they didn’t see much value in it.” I noticed him side-eyeing me and cleared my throat. “You probably started when you were really little, right? That’s how all the greats begin.”

  His chuckle was full of grit. “I began playing when I was barely five years old. My parents hired the finest, most expensive teachers to increase my potential. I also sat and practiced beside my older sister, Lulabelle. You know she had her first performance when she was just eight years old? I remember sitting in the audience, dreaming about that being me someday . . . glowing in the spotlight while everyone watches and claps.”

  The faraway look in his eyes made my heart thrum.

  He blinked, clarity returning as he concentrated on the road. “Lula was a natural at any instrument she tried. Gifted, everyone said. I wasn’t. I struggled for every gain. Worked my ass off right up until the day my father told me it was a waste of time.” Something squeaked in the car; it was the leather of the steering wheel as he constricted it. “He was right. I was never going to be good enough at it to matter.”

  My heart cracked at how he said that. “I’d love to hear you play.”

  Again he glanced at me, his eyebrows squirming. It was a feat that they managed to keep from touching. He opened his mouth, then closed it, abandoning whatever he’d wanted to say.

  We parked in the lot outside the city’s main shopping center. He cut the engine but yanked the keys out so quick that they tumbled from his fingers, landing by my feet. “Shit!” he cursed. Faster than I could react, he leaned toward me, his thick shoulder brushing my arm.

  I’d thought I’d been awake before. The sensation of him grinding on my skin set me into hyperawareness. Thorne smelled like a fire on a misty mountain. At this angle, I could catch a glimpse of the ink cresting along the base of his neck through the top of his shirt.

  My bottom lip trembled. I was struggling with an urge to kiss him, strip him, fuck him right here in the car. After we’d had sex, I was confused that nothing about me had changed. It had taken a full day before I’d noticed what he’d done; Thorne had woken up an insatiable hunger in me—a beast that wa
s mad for more of what only he could give.

  Being near him was both electrifying and frightening. I was scared of what I’d do if he stayed too close. Afraid of another moment spent without him touching me. Each night since the cemetery I’d writhed in my bed, soaking my sheets and clenching around the emptiness between my thighs. I’d never experienced such a massive craving in all my life.

  “You all right?” he whispered. He’d gone still next to me. The keys were in his hands, dangling there, showing us both what he’d really been after.

  “Yeah.” I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my dry mouth. “I’m good. Let’s go do this retail therapy stuff.”

  “Wait.”

  My breath tangled up in my chest.

  Thorne slid his phone out, holding it between us. “Let’s exchange numbers. We don’t want to get separated in there and not be able to get in touch.”

  I eased back into my seat. “Right.”

  “Also,” he added as we typed our numbers in, “it’s probably a step we should have done before we agreed to marry each other.” He grinned in that boyish way of his. His humor calmed me down, and I found myself smiling easily again.

  We exited the car and entered the shopping center together. There were a ton of stores, from high-end things like Gucci to three different McDonald’s. As we passed one of the latter, Thorne stopped in his tracks. “What in the world is that?” he asked. He was pointing at the gigantic machine that displayed rotating three-dimensional images of different food.

  “Have you never seen one of those before?”

  “A fast-food ATM?” Laughing, he strolled up to the brightly glowing machine. “No. I have to say I have not.” He tapped it with his knuckles. “Do the sandwiches come out of this?”

  “No, no.” I was smiling so big my face hurt. I pointed farther down, to the small counter space manned by a single employee. “You order here, then pick up there.”

  “Seems a little redundant.”

  Backtracking a step, I started to walk, but he didn’t follow. “Are you coming?”

  Flicking out his wallet, he raised an eyebrow at me. “And miss trying out the fast-food machine of the future? I think not.” He poked the screen, scrolling through the options. “This is all in French. Why would they do that to me? Me, the nice man who wants an AI-ordered burger?”

  All right, that was too much. Laughing with my head thrown back, I sidled up to him. “You’re not ancient enough to not understand technology, Thorne.” Two clicks and I’d switched the machine to English. Then I ordered myself a vanilla shake. “My payment,” I explained.

  “You’re so greedy,” he scoffed. “A whole milkshake?” Scanning the menu, he ordered himself some fries, then slid his card into the slot to pay. A little word bubble popped up, telling us to go to the counter to pick up our food.

  “I’ll get it,” I said, jogging over and claiming the small tray. But when I came back to the machine, Thorne was standing there, his wallet still open, his credit card still in his hand. “What’s up?” I asked, sucking at the vanilla shake.

  He turned his credit card between his fingers. “It occurred to me that you’ve taken away one of my advantages. I’ve never bought lunch for a woman who was as rich as me. Spoiling girls is one of my favorite things, but I can’t spoil you.”

  The shake became thicker in my mouth; I struggled to get it down. Hawthorne had on a half smile, as if he was kidding around. I didn’t think he was. This actually bothered him.

  I handed him his fries. “You can still spoil me.”

  “How?”

  Slipping my hand into his, I tugged, encouraging him to walk. “Like this.” I squeezed as hard as I could. Thorne stood straighter, clutching the fries. “I’ve never been out with . . . well, someone like you,” I said as my cheeks went hot. “It’s fun to be seen. To feel special.”

  He looped the crook of his arm around mine firmly, his shoulders pulling back, tugging me into his hip. “You know how to make a guy’s ego swell. And other things.”

  Sparks tortured my core; I nearly tripped. His pupils vanished into his irises so that everything became big pools of black. I was glad for my icy shake, it helped soothe some of the hellfire between my legs.

  “But,” he added after a minute, “you don’t have to lie to me. There’s no way a girl like you hasn’t been carted around on the arm of someone who, while probably less amazing than me, was still worth counting.”

  I couldn’t correct him without revealing my chaste past. So I didn’t, I just shrugged playfully and led us to a table in the food court. The center of the ceiling was all glass, allowing the sun to leak inside. The building was quiet today. We sat alone among a sea of round tables, munching fries and sharing my shake.

  “You’re good at that,” he said, passing my shake back. “Sharing, I mean.”

  “With four other siblings, you have to be.”

  “Hah. I know that too well.” Putting his chin on a fist, he squinted at me. “Is it rude to ask how old you are?”

  “Twenty-six,” I said, bending my straw back and forth. Same as you.

  “Same as me,” he said, echoing my thoughts. “I know you’re not the oldest, are you the youngest?”

  “That would be sweet little Darla.” Holding up a hand, I ticked down a finger each time I said a name. “It goes Larchmont, Darien, me, Richard, then her.”

  He spun his empty fry container. “You’re a middler, like me.”

  “Yes, I’m the middle child.” This normal conversation was incredibly refreshing. I sucked at my shake, draining most of the contents. Thorne reached out, silently asking for more. I grinned and slid it out of the way, taking another sip.

  Slapping his palms onto the table, he stretched over it, partially climbing across. It was the kind of action I’d expect out of a kid. Not a grown man. The few people walking by us slowed down to stare; I was stunned enough that I didn’t fight him as he snatched the drink.

  Dropping onto his chair, he bit the straw, winking at me. “My siblings didn’t share as well as you. I’ve pulled that move multiple times, it always works.” His cheeks hollowed as he emptied my shake. “Come on,” he said, hopping up, throwing our trash into the bin. “Let’s get on with my lesson in retail therapy 101.”

  Over the next hour we shopped in a way I never had. He was right, I had money thanks to my family, but I wasn’t prone to spending it. That was Darla’s preferred hobby.

  He kept encouraging me to try out the newest smartphones, or expensive shoes, or even purses. At one point he handed me off to an employee in a department store, instructing her to “take care” of me while he went off to handle something else. “I’ll be back,” he assured me, darting out the doors.

  “He’s cute,” the clerk said, watching him go.

  More than cute. Blinking, I faced the woman. “I don’t even know what you could help me with. I think we’ve bought more outfits than I could wear every day for the next month.”

  She laughed, patting my back roughly. “Let’s start with what you need. Any special celebrations coming up?”

  I started to shake my head. Then I stopped. “Actually, there is something.”

  - CHAPTER FIFTEEN -

  HAWTHORNE

  It took longer to get back to the department store than I’d expected.

  Catching my breath, I peered from side to side for Nova. I didn’t see her, so I grabbed my phone and typed her a message. Where are you?

  The little dots popped up—she was typing. I stared without blinking, so eager for her response. For any response from her at all.

  The bubble vanished.

  It didn’t come back.

  Confused, I tapped my phone, writing something else. Was she mad I’d run off? I’d had a reason, one I thought would be good enough in the long term. But maybe I should have been quicker . . . maybe I shouldn’t have made her wait, when I’d been the one to ask her on this trip, and . . .

  “Boo,” she said in my ear.


  My muscles had years of reflexive instinct drilled into them. The second her breath tickled the hairs on my temple, I whirled around, snatching her wrists, gripping her like she was going to attack me. Nova’s eyes flew wide. So did her pink lips.

  Instantly I released her, backing up. “Fuck. Sorry, you surprised me.”

  “I know,” she said, squinting. “That was the idea.”

  “Sorry,” I repeated, hot with shame.

  Watching me for a few heartbeats, Nova finally closed the distance between us. There was no fear in her face, just innocent curiosity. “You’re fast.”

  “I really didn’t mean to freak you out.”

  “You didn’t.” She lowered her eyelashes, her smile soft . . . tempting. “I liked it.”

  What I’d thought was fear morphed into high heat. Her chest rose up and down, tits pushing on the fabric, her nipples hard buds testing the strength of her bra padding.

  A throaty groan escaped my clenched molars. “Fuck. Come with me.” Grabbing her wrist, I pulled her toward the restrooms I’d seen while I was exploring earlier. Nova had to take two steps for each of mine.

  Not bothering to look around for anyone watching, I opened a door, yanked her in, then locked it behind us. I spun to face her in that tiny closet of a room. She was rose-colored everywhere I could see.

  “Suck me off,” I growled, moving to stand in front of the white sink. “You’ve got my cock too hard to function until this is taken care of.”

  Nova crumbled to her knees. Her fingers worked at my belt, removing it eagerly. Her fingers skirted across the button of my pants, slipping it through the hole with an audible pop. She gripped the top of my zipper, inching it down; every time it got lower, the bulge of my erection shoved through the opening until it was pressing the black fabric of my boxers desperately toward her face.

  My cock sensed that she was there. When she inhaled at the sight of me, before I was even naked, it sent another pulse of excitement through my shaft. Nova lifted her hands toward the elastic band of my underwear. She moved very slowly, and it struck me as being from anxiousness. But that didn’t make sense. There was too much anticipation glowing in her eyes. Probably has to do with the fact that we’re hiding in a public bathroom.