“I’m fairly certain it’s the opposite.” Sutton’s voice drifted into the room from the doorway, smooth and rich like the chocolate laying on the kitchen island.
“Cheese and rice! Where do you keep coming from?”
He watched as I grabbed the melted butter from the stove and poured it over the sugar. His powder blue button-up pulled taut on his biceps and dressy pants that probably cost more than I made in a month hinted at the outline of his muscular thighs. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and my mind immediately pictured the way the fabric might hug his butt. He was there, tearing through my bloodstream like heroin. There wasn’t enough chocolate in the world to get him out of my system.
His gaze lazily drifted to my face. “Secret passages. It is a castle… and chocolate is an aphrodisiac.” A slow grin curved his mouth, yet his voice showed no hint of emotion.
I was sure he was teasing but after seeing the sealed off library door, nothing would surprise me. “Isn’t there a polo match or fancy opera somewhere missing a prince?” I cracked an egg and snapped my composure back into place, praying to God that he was wrong about the chocolate.
Of all the places in this humungous castle, why did he always seem to be exactly where I was all of a sudden? I’d managed to hide from him for months and now he was all over me like a second skin.
“So, that’s what you think I do all day?”
“Other than stalking me? Yes.” I cracked a second egg, adding it to the bowl.
Madeline and Mrs. Fletcher watched our verbal sparring with intense curiosity, the homemade bread and blueberry muffins long forgotten. To someone on the outside it probably felt uncomfortable, but for us it was the norm.
Sutton stepped behind me, placing one of his legs between mine, not caring that we had an audience. He flexed the muscle of his thick thigh against me, sending a throbbing ache straight to my core. “I was hoping to get some coffee, but I think I like this better.”
Since when did the royals start getting their own coffee? Didn’t he have people for that?
I slid away from him, grabbing the bag of chocolate chips and another bowl. “I don’t remember offering it to you.”
He followed me to the other side of the kitchen where the microwave was. “You don’t? Because I remember it quite well.” His voice was calm and controlled, nothing like the turmoil that churned inside me.
I dumped the chips into the glass bowl then stuck it in the microwave before turning to face him. “I answered your questions. It’s your turn to answer mine,” I said, hoping the hum of the microwave hid our conversation from Madeline and Mrs. Fletcher. They’d gone back to continuing a hushed conversation and preparing breakfast, or at least pretending to.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
I doubted he was talking about melting the chocolate before baking it. I tipped my head back to meet his eyes. “Is there some reason it’s not?”
He closed the gap between us, trapping me between his hard body and the counter behind me. His eyes darkened when they fell to my lips. I watched the muscle in his jaw flex and wondered if he was remembering our kiss. I would never forget it. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“You wanted to know what I had against your father. I want to know what you have against mine.”
His eyes grew cold again. “I don’t know if I can answer that.”
Can’t? Or won’t?
I challenged him with a glare as disbelief flooded through me. “Well then maybe your father can.”
“Don’t you dare bother him with this.”
“Why? My questions aren’t justified because I don’t wear a crown?”
“That’s not fair.”
“No. What isn’t fair is that my father died a hero, and everyone keeps painting him as the villain. The man who let me stand on his toes while we waltzed around our living room then took me outside and showed me how to shoot a bow. The man who read me Jane Austen until I fell asleep and taught me how to change a flat tire. The man who gave his life to save his king. That’s the Matteo Bellizzi I knew.” I paused to catch my breath. “My dad was a loyal man, an honest man. So, if he saw your father as an enemy, there had to be a good reason, and I won’t stop until I find it.”
The high-pitched sound of the microwave timer cut through the air.
Sutton ignored it, lifting his hand to hold my chin between his fingers. “Why can’t you just leave it alone?”
“Because I can’t. It’s an invisible force, a light at the bottom of a dark abyss. I can’t keep ignoring it. I have to see where it takes me.”
The pad of his thumb brushed over my bottom lip. “What if that light is a fire and you’re falling straight into the flame?”
My stomach fluttered, and I wasn’t sure we were still talking about my father.
“Then I guess I’ll just get burned.”
Eighteen
Sutton’s cell phone rang, snatching us out of the moment and plopping us right back into the middle of reality. He answered, the voice on the other end of the line unmistakably female. She spoke, and he listened, saying nothing more than, “I’m on my way,” before hanging up.
Quiet chatter filled the back half of the kitchen as the rest of the staff showed up for work in small clusters. I didn’t know how much they had seen or heard, but the looks on their faces said it was enough for another afternoon full of gossip. They bowed and curtsied the moment they realized they now had Sutton’s attention. A wave of shame rushed over me. He gave orders and people obeyed them without question, yet I defied him every time I opened my mouth. What was wrong with me? Better yet, what was wrong with him for letting me do it?
He tucked his phone back into his pocket and straightened his posture, then swiveled around to face me again. “I need to go.” His strained expression made my stomach churn. Let him handle it. His pain isn’t your concern.
Sutton pulled his mask of usual detachment over his face, but his eyes flashed a fire that stole my breath. “We’re far from done here, little sheep.” Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving me to face the world and pretend he hadn’t just practically liquified my bones then completely dismissed me all in the same breath.
A handful of curious gazes followed me all the way to the kitchen island where I finished whisking the ingredients for my brownies. Silence fell over the usually bustling kitchen. The ticking of the clock above the door seemed loud enough to wake the dead. I wished it would. Then maybe I could get some answers.
I felt everyone’s eyes on me and knew what it probably looked like to them. I shouldn’t have been embarrassed that the prince paid attention to me. Nearly every woman in his kingdom went to bed dreaming of his fingers on their lips and his hand around their waist. I was no exception. The difference was that I had a taste of the consequences of that attention, and it was a price I wasn’t sure I was willing to pay.
Madeline reached across the counter and squeezed my hand, and Mrs. Fletcher gave me a comforting smile. I poured the brownie mix into the pan. The scent of baked blueberries filled the kitchen as soon as I opened the oven door.
I eyed the fluffy tops overflowing the muffin cups in the pan. “They look delicious,” I said to Mrs. Fletcher, hoping to break the awkward silence in the room. “You have to give me your recipe.” My voice cracked at the end, and I mentally cringed at the audible kink in my armor.
I prided myself on being strong, yet Sutton always managed to nearly bring me to my knees. This time we had an audience to witness the fall, and my question was still left unanswered.
The older woman chuckled and shook her head while she slid the muffin pan out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. “Family secret, my dear.”
There seemed to be a lot of those in Thornebridge Castle.
I stuck my brownies in and closed the oven door. “Then I guess I’ll just have to settle for eating them.” I painted on my best smile and pretended like my heart wasn’t pounding against my ribs. “Have
a great morning everyone. I’ll be back in about…” I glanced down at my watch then back up with a forced smile. “Twenty-eight minutes.”
The second I was out of the kitchen and in the hallway, I stopped to regroup, tilting my head back to stare at the coffered ceiling. The ornate wood trim dug into my back as I leaned against the wall. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, willing away the confusion and anxiety that swirled around in the pit of my stomach.
“We’re far from done here, little sheep.”
What did that even mean? I spilled my guts to him… twice… and he still acted like I was the one with something to hide.
A female voice I didn’t recognize floated from the kitchen into the hall. “Who was that woman?”
“She’s so pretty,” another unfamiliar voice followed.
Pretty? Maybe they weren’t throwing darts at a poster of my face after all.
“Katarina Bellizzi,” Mrs. Fletcher replied. The sound of a faucet running and dishes being placed into the sink echoed in the background.
It wasn’t eavesdropping if the conversation was about me. Right?
“You mean the same Katarina Bellizzi who—”
“Yes.” Mrs. Fletcher cut her off in a hushed tone.
“Does the prince know?” the first girl questioned.
“I don’t think he cares.”
The same Katarina Bellizzi who… what? What did the prince need to know? I itched to run back into the kitchen and demand answers. I didn’t because that would make me look crazy. Besides, all anyone ever did was dance around my questions. No one ever had the stomach to stand and look me in the eye. Secrets and lies were like poison, eating away at everything around them until all that was left was destruction. But that was the thing about secrets: In the end, just like poison, they always found their way to the surface.
The best way to keep a secret was to pretend that there wasn’t one. Illusion was something we had crafted to perfection. Pretending we were normal. Pretending we had the perfect family. Pretending the king wasn’t lying in his bed losing his battle with cancer. Our secret was out now, though, and there would be no more pretending. It was official. The Lord Chancellor, Lord Chief Justice, and Speaker of the House had made a declaration of incapacity. My father was no longer healthy enough to be king, and I would become regent. It wasn’t something any of us took lightly.
The day he took his oath and placed the crown upon his head, Dad made a commitment for life. My father was king—would always be king—until God, and no one else, said otherwise. I guessed cancer was God’s way of making a statement.
I walked the long, wide hallway to Dad’s office where Mom waited for me. With every step I took, it felt as though a black fog settled over the castle. The weight of a dozen bricks fell to the bottom of my stomach. Each of my steps was heavier than the last until I reached the large wooden door.
I stopped in the doorway and watched as Mom stood behind Dad’s desk, trailing her long, slim fingers across the polished wood. Her gaze was fixed on the framed family photo perched on one corner. We’d taken it last Christmas in front of the fireplace in the Ambassador’s Room right after Dad was diagnosed. It would be the last picture we had as a family. Mom insisted on everyone having one on their desk. It was supposed to remind us that we were never alone, even though most of the time we were.
She looked up at me, her emerald-green eyes glossed over with unshed tears. Her blonde hair was pinned neatly to the top of her head and her peplum dress looked as though it had just come off the rack. She sucked in a breath and held her chin high, the perfect picture of untouchable royalty. But I knew. I knew the pain she carried because I felt it too.
Fate was a bitch. She sat in the darkness, watching you build your life, stacking the bricks one by one. Just when you thought the walls were secure, that you had it all figured out, she dealt a blow that sent it all crumbling down.
While I was dicking around in the kitchen, my father’s throne was taken from him. And handed to me.
The bullshit with Katie needed to end today. I would make sure of it. No more secrets. No more games. She was asking about her father, and something told me the chances of her dropping that shit were about as high as the chances of me not fucking her. What would she do when she finally found the truth? Would she hate me for telling her? I would protect her feelings for as long as I could, but if it came between the Crown and Katie, I’d choose my crown every time. As of today, my life no longer belonged to me. It belonged to the throne. Then again, I supposed it always had. Freedom was just another one of the illusions we painted so well.
“When did they sign it?” I asked as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The curtains were still closed, leaving it dark in here. The only light in the room came from the glow of two small gold-plated lamps with green glass shades.
Mom cleared her throat, moving her fingers to a long document in the center of his desk. “This morning.”
I moved across the plush wool rug, stopping on the opposite side of Dad’s desk. “So, what’s next?” I knew what was next, but something needed to drag us away from the impending silence. Soon it would be quiet, too quiet, and the knowledge of that ate at my very fucking soul.
“You take your oath in front of Privy Council,” Mom answered.
My heart cracked wide open. Everything I never wanted was about to be placed in the palm of my hands… at the expense of my father’s life. He lived for the Crown, and all I ever wanted to do was live without it. How fucked up was that?
I looked around the office at all the trophies and plaques, the framed photos and certificates of achievement, at a lifetime of accomplishments and wondered if I would ever measure up.
“You’re going to be a good king,” my mother said, answering my silent thoughts.
Pain sliced through my chest. “He’s not dead yet, Mom.”
Her face dropped. “You’re right. I keep saying all the wrong things and doing the wrong things.” The tears finally fell from her eyes, sliding over her cheeks. “He was the one with all the answers. How am I going to do this, Sutton? How am I going to live without him?”
I leaned over the desk and brushed her tears away with the back of my finger. “You won’t have to. He’ll always be here. As long as there’s someone around to remember him. You’re going to be fine because he made you strong. He made us both strong.” I needed the reminder every bit as much as she did.
Mom reached up to squeeze my hand then walked around the desk and toward the door because… fuck a hug. That would be too intimate. She grabbed the handle then peered over her shoulder at me. “He’s proud of you, you know.” Then she walked out the door not knowing her words slammed into me so hard my chest ached.
I stared at the declaration lying on the desk in front of me. Words like “incapacitated” and “Act of Regency” stared back, mocking me. Anger tightened in my chest, wrapping its greedy fist around my heart and crushing until I could hardly breathe. I was mad at life… at fate… at God. Angry at a mother who refused to show affection, even when her husband was dying. At a woman who drove me batshit fucking crazy every time I saw her face. At her father for driving a wedge between us so big that neither one of us would make it over without gaining a lifetime of scars. I was so angry I didn’t even know what, or who, I was angry at anymore.
I grabbed a marble paperweight that matched my own and chucked it across the room. It knocked one of the lamps off a round wooden table, sending the glass shade shattering all over the floor.
Fuck. Cancer.
Ten minutes later, it was no surprise that I found Katie in the library with her nose in a book. Her long legs draped over one arm of a cognac leather chair and her head leaned back on the other. She looked lost in a world I knew I would never be able to give her, a world full of romantic gestures and happily ever afters… and she was about to find out why.
I grabbed the book and tossed it onto the sofa then looked down to find her staring at me with those fuck me
eyes. I had to blink away from them to keep from unzipping my pants and feeding her my dick. We were in the perfect position for it with me standing and her in the chair with her head resting against the arm and her mouth right fucking there. Jesus.
I gripped her wrist and pulled her out of the chair. “Come with me.”
She yanked her arm out of my grasp, stumbling back and nearly falling on her ass in the process. Her eyes moved to the book on the sofa. “That was a first edition.”
“I’m aware.”
Katie gritted her teeth and nailed me down with a glare. “You can’t keep treating people like things and things like they don’t matter.”
I wanted to hate Katie. I needed her to hate me. But the truth was that the only reason I was even here right now was because this—what I was about to do—did matter. She was beginning to matter.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Will you just come with me?”
“Why would I do that?”
Always fucking challenging me.
“Because we’re going to see my father.”
Nineteen
Sutton snatched me up from my chair like I was a scolded child. He’d gone from “Don’t you dare bother him with this” to “We’re going to see my father” in a matter of minutes. Whatever change of heart he had between our time in the kitchen and now probably had something to do with the phone call that left him white as a sheet.
The kitchen.
My brownies.
He started one way down the hall while I went the opposite. Having the king answer my questions was important but so was letting the staff know that I wasn’t one of Sutton’s flaky playthings who dropped everything—and burned her brownies—to chase a prince.
About five steps in, his voice boomed at my back. “You obviously missed the part where I said come with me.”
Crown of Thornes : a modern day royal romance Page 13
