“Mrs. Fletcher has a soft spot for lonely souls,” Madeline said with a laugh as she grabbed the carrots then rinsed them off.
Finally, a name. Mrs. Fletcher: The woman with a soft spot for lonely souls. Well, that certainly explained why she liked me so much.
People practically had competitions for a chance to be near the royals. They were surrounded by an entire nation who adored them.
“Why would a prince be lonely?”
The older woman glanced at a large wooden clock above the door. “Ask him yourself. He’ll be down for breakfast any minute now.”
So much for having breakfast at the castle.
I tossed the half-eaten apple in the trash bin. “I wish I could, but I’m running late for… a thing.” The elastic band on my big girl panties snapped and fell to my feet, taking all the courage I had when I woke up with it. I needed to leave before I ended up showing everyone my butt. After last night, I had no idea what would come out of the prince’s mouth. While I was more than ready to face him, I wasn’t ready to do it in front of an audience.
Madeline laughed while Mrs. Fletcher shook her head, wiping her hands on the gray apron tied around her adorably round figure.
“You can’t run from him forever,” Madeline called after me as I headed out into the hall.
Maybe not. But I could run from him for now.
My father always said it seemed as though Torryn was able to manipulate time. We had all the modern conveniences of the world—Starbucks, Wi-Fi, and five-star restaurants—but we’d somehow been able to skip all the clutter that came with it. There were no shopping malls or streets filled with traffic. Instead, we had strings of shops along brick-paved roads and couples riding bicycles. We were sophisticated, yet simple. Luxurious, yet understated. A true natural wonder.
Thornebridge Castle sat on a hill against the southern shore, overlooking the capital city of Valetta. It could be seen from almost anywhere. Even when I wanted to get away from it, it was always there.
I took the train into the city. Unless you were a royal, that was the only way to get back and forth from the castle. The streets were bustling with Sunday shoppers enjoying their last day of recreation before they began another week. Shop owners lined their sidewalks with buckets of fresh flowers and artwork on easels. A man cycled past a group of children blowing bubbles into the wind while their parents chatted over morning coffee. Life went on. While I felt trapped inside a prison with gold-trimmed walls and marble floors, the sun still rose. People still laughed. The world still turned. And I thought I was better off pretending it didn’t.
Until now.
I stood outside my favorite restaurant, glancing over today’s specials written on the chalkboard stand.
Someone grabbed my elbow. “Katie Bellizzi? No fucking way.”
I spun around to see my best friend Chelsea standing behind me. Her face was like a beacon in the middle of a raging storm. It was funny how something as small as a familiar touch or the signature scent of your best friend’s shampoo could bring so many emotions rushing to the surface. I had a life, a life where I sang sappy love songs at the top of my lungs and rode carnival rides on the pier and had bonfires at the beach. That was all before. I missed that life. I missed me.
She wrapped her arms around my neck. “Oh my God. You’re alive.” Chelsea had a flair for dramatics. “You mean you finally left the palace to come socialize with us commoners?” And sarcasm.
I stepped away and rolled my eyes. “More like I slayed the dragon and escaped from the tower.”
“So, did the dragon eat your cell phone because…” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, scrolling through text messages and knowing none of them were from me.
I swallowed the lump of guilt and regret building in my throat. The last time I called Chelsea was on her birthday three weeks ago. Her boyfriend planned this big bonfire on the beach. Everyone we went to high school with was there. They played sand volleyball and made s’mores while one of our old friends played a special song for her on his guitar. It was everything Chelsea would’ve wanted from a twenty-fifth birthday. And I wasn’t there. I watched the whole thing unravel in Instagram stories while I sank deeper into my comforter and drowned in self-pity. If I were her, I would punch me in the face right now. I sucked as a friend.
Before that, we had talked maybe two other times since I moved into the castle. My father’s death devastated me. I threw everything I had into salvaging the farm because that was the cord that tethered me to him. When they took that, they took me. They took my past, present, and a huge part of my future, and expected to make it better with a royal address and fancy job title. Everything good and light that I had to look back on or look forward to was gone, and I was left alone in the darkness. I shut down. I hid inside myself because it was safe there. The one thing I could depend on, the one person I knew would never leave me, was me. Then I started to disappear too.
“Would you believe me if I said I lost your number?”
“Nice try, but no.”
“If I feed you pastizzi and give you wine will you forgive me?” Eating pastizzi and drinking wine was our favorite way to exorcise our demons, to purge the responsibilities of the world and watch them disappear into the bottom of a bottle of pinot. At least it used to be.
“Fine, but I want the good shit. You’re a castle native now. I’m expecting the best.”
She had serious delusions about my new life. Chelsea held up two fingers to the hostess.
“Right this way, ladies,” the girl said as she grabbed two menus then nodded for us to follow.
Chelsea pulled out the chair across from me and sat, thanking the hostess before she walked away. “You look gorgeous,” I told her because everyone knew the best way to climb your way out of a dung hole was with flattery. Right?
She opened her menu and pretended to scan the contents as if she hadn’t always ordered the same thing for the past five years. “And you look sad.”
Maybe I wasn’t as good at faking it as I’d hoped.
“I miss it.” My home. My dad. My friends. My laugh. “My life.”
She set down the menu, then reached her arms across the table and grabbed my hands. Tiny wisps of chestnut brown hair fell from her French braid and across her forehead. Her tanned skin made mine look pale. We used to have competitions to see who could get the famed golden Mediterranean glow fastest. She definitely won this time. Which was a serious tragedy since I had a beach at my back door.
The waiter appeared with a bottle of wine and two glasses of water. We placed our order, waiting for him to pour the wine and leave before we continued.
“You didn’t lose your life, Katie. You just got a better one.”
“My dad is dead, Chels. I never see Mama. I don’t go anywhere or do anything. I serve no purpose. I have nothing. How is that better?”
She finished her sip of wine then set the glass on the table. “I’m going to stop you right there.” She pointed at my wine glass. “Take a drink. You’re going to need it.” She waited for me to take my glass. “I’m sorry about your dad. I truly am. I loved him too. And I can’t imagine the pain you felt when you lost him. But your mom is right there with you. She didn’t die. If you don’t see her enough, change that. Invite her to lunch. Watch a movie with her. You might not agree with the choice she made not to fight for the farm, but she is still your mother.” I hated how right she was. I spent so much time avoiding the queen that I hadn’t put a lot of effort into spending time with Mama. I did that. It was my fault, not hers. “And you aren’t a prisoner, Katie. The walls of Thornebridge aren’t holding you in. You can leave any time you want. I mean, you left today and no one stopped you, right? You just have to get up and do it. My God, do you have any idea how many people would kill for your life right now? You live in a fucking castle and get paid to read books all day. It’s like you’re Belle in Beauty and the Beast or some shit.” Chelsea cursed like a sailor and still managed to make it look ladyli
ke. “And don’t even get me started on that beast Prince Sutton…”
The mention of his name made me choke on my drink. I felt the heat creep up my neck and was certain I was blushing. I wouldn’t call myself a beauty, but she was right about Sutton being a beast.
Her eyes grew wide. “You fucked him. Oh my God. You fucked the prince.”
I dove across the table, holding a finger over her lips to shush her. “Don’t say that so loud.” I leaned back in my chair and grabbed my wine. She was right. I needed it. “And no. I didn’t sleep with him.”
“Yeah? Since when did Katie Bellizzi start blushing over guys?” She blinked twice then folded her arms across her chest, waiting for an explanation she already knew was a load of crap.
“There’s nothing. He’s no one. And I wasn’t blushing.” Sutton Thorne wasn’t no one, and he was making darn sure I knew that.
Chelsea uncrossed her arms. “Right. You act like I haven’t been your best friend since we were twelve.”
The waiter chose that moment to show up with our food, thank God.
“I will get you drunk and pull the truth out of you,” she said once he left.
I laughed and shook my head. I refused to speak another word about it, and she didn’t make me, even though I knew there was no way she would let this go. We spent the rest of the meal catching up on all the things I had missed in the last few months and making promises to do this again next week. Chelsea was right. Thornebridge Castle hadn’t made me a prisoner. I did that to myself.
Today I’d been set free.
After a day full of shopping, both hands were full of bags. I even grabbed some groceries from the farmer’s market to bring some life back to my sad, sad pantry. Then I bought a painting of sunflowers on a canvas because screw Monet and his impression of sunrises. It was my villa, and I liked sunflowers and local art. By the time I reached the guard shack, I was exhausted.
“Do you have an invitation?” one of the guards questioned me when I walked up to the heavy iron gate.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll need to see your invitation in order to let you through.”
I had his invitation. Right between my index finger and ring finger. “Oh, right. My name is on the lis—” I stopped. My name wasn’t on the approved list. Because Keaton hadn’t put it there like he usually did. How could he when he hadn’t answered my calls or texts since last night? “I mean, I live here. My mother is the Queen’s Secretary.”
His lips drew into a thin, stern line. Like he heard stories like this all day every day. Maybe he did. But I was telling the truth.
“You won’t mind if I verify that information?” he asked. His tone was cold and distant. He was definitely the right man for this job.
I shrugged. “Do what you gotta do, bossman.”
He smirked then punched a code into a keypad on some sort of tablet on the wall. A moment later, my heart dropped when Sutton’s face appeared.
Nine
For my father, there would be no more trips to Valetta. There would be no meeting with the people while Parliament was on break. Just a swarm of emails from the constituents he’d been too sick to speak with. For Mom, there would be no planning garden parties or galas. Just her attempt to comfort him from a pain that knew no comfort. He hadn’t eaten in days, and his strength disappeared with his appetite. Cancer was a greedy bitch.
As I sifted through the documents that now sat on my desk instead of his, I realized that soon everything I read would rest on my shoulders, that an entire nation would call me King. The health care issues, the concerns about tourism and pollution, financial advisors telling me if I would open the castle to visitors we could generate more revenue. The buzz of the swarm grew louder with every breath I took. I knew I had to move, that there would be consequences to standing still, but I was frozen, caught somewhere between needing to run toward it and wanting to run away from it all.
A notification rang through the video monitor, breaking the black fog of silence that hovered around me. Thanks to Keaton conveniently taking the day off, verifying front gate visitors was added to my list of current duties.
“Yes?” I answered, not looking up from dozens of possible dinner menu plans (another task that had been handed down to me for now). At this rate, I wouldn’t have time to eat… or sleep.
“Excuse the interruption, Your Royal Highness, but this woman claims she lives on the castle grounds.”
I knew it was Katie before I ever glanced at the screen. Everyone else who wasn’t a guest used the east entrance like they were supposed to, and guests either had invitations or their name was on the list. Antonio knew that too. He was the type of guy who drank raw eggs for breakfast and locked puppies out in the cold. Katie wasn’t making it anywhere near the castle without an approval.
She cast her gaze on something straight ahead, on anything other than me, and that was perfectly fucking fine because I had no desire for her to catch me gawking. The strapless sundress she wore put the crests of her breasts on display. She’d actually gone out in public like that, cleavage for days and legs for miles. Jesus, was she even wearing a bra? If she were mine, I would—I stopped the thought before I could even finish it. She wasn’t mine.
She had shopping bags in both hands, and when Antonio instructed her to face me, her eyes had this glow. There was a determined boldness locked behind depths of blue. She looked different, nothing like the woman I left in the Great Hall last night.
Katie shifted her weight on her feet as though she were bored by the whole process, even though I was sure it had more to do with the weight of all those damn bags than actual boredom. I was tempted to make her sweat it out, but after last night that seemed cruel. Fuck it. The sadistic bastard in me did it anyway. “Not sure I recognize her, Antonio.”
Coldness swept across her eyes, turning the bright blue seas into icy glaciers. She dropped the bags and folded her arms across her chest. I guess she didn’t like my joke. In her mind, this was probably her battle stance, but all I saw was two full breasts and a shit ton of cleavage shoved right in my face.
Before we engaged in another round of verbal warfare that I didn’t have the energy for right now, I pulled the mask of indifference back over my face and tried to focus on a menu. “She may pass.” Then I killed the call before I ended up inviting her in here to sit on my face because all work and no play made Sutton a very dull boy.
The sound of Katie’s voice floated into the hall from the kitchen, breathy and seductive and stopping me in my tracks. “You said is there anything which is dead or alive more beautiful than my body, to have in your fingers, trembling ever so little?”
What the fuck? Blow jobs in the library, cleavage in public, now begging for fingers on her body in the kitchen. I broke. I couldn’t take any more. My kitchen. My fucking body.
The dinner menu I held crinkled in my balled fist. Someone giggled, a female, but not Katie. I’d heard her laugh once. Trying to forget it was like trying to forget the sound of rain or Chopin. It was peaceful and melodic. This giggle was nothing like that.
She spoke again. “Don’t tell me you expected anything less from a guy named Cummings.”
Poetry. I should’ve known. I breathed a sigh of relief then conjured up all my memories of e.e. cummings.
Another giggle. “Well we didn’t learn any of that in literature class.”
“That’s because it’s chemistry,” Katie said. Then she laughed and I felt the vibration all the way to my nuts.
As interesting as this all was, I wasn’t going to continue eavesdropping until I got caught by Mrs. Fletcher. The last thing I needed was one of her grandmotherly lectures. Besides, there was that force again, tugging me through the doorway, urging me to be near her. “Pardon the interruption, ladies.”
I said pardon. Shit. Rule number bullshit-hundred-fuckery-seven in the royal handbook: No apologies. No pardons. No excuses.
Grape Girl curtsied at the sight of me. I should’ve asked her na
me, but I didn’t give a shit. Not at the moment anyway. Katie was perched on top of the large kitchen island with an open book in her lap. Her dress had ridden up her thighs, exposing her flesh damn near all the way to where her ass met the granite. Somebody just fucking shoot me in the dick.
Never mind. Bad idea. I would need it later… when I was in my bed jacking off to the thought of shooting my load all over her tits and reminding her why wearing shit like that in public was a bad idea. I was hard just thinking about it, along with anyone with a penis who saw her today. Damn her. The first chance I got, I was burning that goddamn dress.
I took slow, deliberate steps toward the island, stopping so close that my hip brushed her calf. Then I slid the next month’s dinner menu across the island top. “I’m dropping this off for my mother.” I offered no explanation. No one needed to know why. Without moving an inch, I turned my attention to Katie. “Don’t let me stop you. By all means, keep going.”
Grape Girl took the menu. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”
Katie parted her lips and held my gaze. Her chest rose with her deep breath. Fuck. If her smart mouth wasn’t the death of me, those tits would be. If we weren’t sharing the kitchen with a girl who probably thought rim jobs were something you gave your car, I would adjust the hard-on currently painfully pressed against my zipper. Katie straightened her posture and glanced back at her book, then back at me before narrowing her eyes. “My apologies, Your Highness, but I’m afraid the content might offend you.”
Erotic poetry? I read steamier text messages than that.
I hated the way she spoke to me—prim, proper, and formal. Like she hadn’t had my dick in her hand less than twenty-four hours ago. Then again, I did make her feel like shit for doing it, so there’s that. I hated the words but loved the defiance behind them. At this rate, I was surprised neither one of us had whiplash.
Crown of Thornes : a modern day royal romance Page 6
