Royal Chase (The Royals of Monterra)

by Sariah Wilson

  “He’s also the only man who broke up with you so that he could cheat on you.” I hadn’t been mistaken. Definitely angry.

  I put my hand on top of his, wanting to calm him down, but it had the opposite effect on me. There was this electrical current that seemed to always be waiting beneath the surface when we touched. The second we did, it zipped around my body, making me feel anything except calm, but I left my hand where it was. He didn’t move. It was like he was afraid that if he did, I would pull away again. He was probably right.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re engaged to him.” He sounded a bit better. Calmer.

  “I went home for spring break, and the first night he was there with his family. He asked me to go to dinner the next night and I did, and the night after that and the night after that. I extended my break a week to spend more time with him, and we called and texted when I got back to Colorado. Then the night before graduation he proposed and . . .”

  I trailed off, and his eyes met mine. There was a fire there that singed my soul, that burned me up and made me want to beg for it to consume me. Like a lit fuse between us that waited and waited, and then caused a mountain-sized explosion whenever we kissed.

  And like so many times before, all I wanted was to be close to him. I was dying to kiss him, but knew that I couldn’t. Somehow I had angled myself so that our faces were so close that even though we weren’t kissing, if somebody saw us they’d probably think that we were.

  My breathing became shallow and rapid, and I tried to repress it. It would only encourage him, and I couldn’t let that happen. I should move away. Go back inside. Something.

  You’re engaged.

  But then Dante said, “I hate that anyone has ever hurt you, Limone,” as he caressed the side of my face, and every last bit of resistance inside of me crumbled.

  I knew he would never kiss me, because he was too honorable. But despite my rules, I nearly attacked him then and there. I didn’t—because a hysterical Taylor found us and ordered us back inside. As soon as she spoke, I pulled away faster than a rattlesnake getting ready to bite. I couldn’t look at him. Dante stood up first and offered me his hand, but I ignored it and him and walked back into the house.

  I couldn’t believe it. I had to be stronger than this. I was marrying someone else.

  And, once again, I’d come this close to throwing away my steady, sure relationship and believing Dante could be more than he was.

  Chapter 5

  If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

  I pulled Taylor aside to see what had made her so upset. She was typically a go-with-the-flow kind of girl, and I’d never seen her so stressed. “Matthew’s here,” she said, and my heart stopped.

  “Matthew Burdette is here?” I responded. I suddenly felt nauseous.

  “This Heart Celebration has to go perfectly. Matthew said he wants to film it live. No cuts, no reshoots. Something about it seeming more real and test audiences responding better to live tapings.” She doubled over, and I looked around for the nearest thing she could throw up in. “These things never go right. I am so going to get fired.”

  “You will not get fired,” I told her, helping her to sit down on a nearby chair. “Everything will be fine. I promise.”

  It was a promise I shouldn’t have made.

  I could feel Dante standing behind me, presumably listening in on our conversation. I continued to ignore him. I shouldn’t have been upset with him. It wasn’t his fault my messed-up psyche found him irresistible.

  But it was almost over. Soon I’d be gone and free of this hellmouth.

  The perfectly coiffed host of Marry Me walked in, his tailored suit and golden tan making me feel pale and unkempt. “Hello, ladies, I’m Harris Phillips.” Cue the excited twittering from women who’d been standing in super-tight shoes for way too long and had had way too much to drink. “If you will excuse me, I need to have a conversation with Dante, and we will meet you at the Heart Celebration.”

  Dante left with a chorus of good-byes echoing behind him, and we were told to go into the room where all the Heart Celebrations would be held. There were candles of every shape and size all over the place. They had put a riser on the floor, and the back windows opened on the lit-up pool. Past the pool I could see the sun just starting to come up over the horizon. This stupid shoot had taken almost all night. No wonder I was so tired. They arranged us by height, and I was stuck up front in the middle. I was shorter than everyone else because I was the only woman not in heels. I felt like I was on Sesame Street playing “one of these things is not like the others.”

  Genesis was led over to the other side, and I waved to her. She smiled back, and I noticed a small red heart pin attached to the bodice of her dress. She must have won the First Sight Heart. Which meant that Dante had liked her so much at first sight that she didn’t have to worry about this elimination, because she was safe.

  My mind whirled with crazy thoughts that led me down a dark, jealous path. While I logically knew Dante would date other women and possibly fall in love, I still felt more possessive than I should have. It made no sense. How could I be upset? I liked Genesis so much, too. But it still caused a sharp pang in my heart.

  I told myself that they might be really good together. She might make him really happy. It should be what I wanted. It might even help my inappropriate attraction to him if he paid all his attention to the women on the show and left me alone.

  The lights were okayed, the cameras were positioned, and the director called for Harris and Dante to enter the room. There was a call for “quiet on the set!” and everyone went still. Harris walked out first to greet us.

  “Good evening. Welcome to what I hope will be the first of many Heart Celebrations for you. I guess that everyone here has a pretty good idea of how this works.” Some nervous laughter. “If you hear your name, please step forward to accept a heart pin. Genesis has her First Sight Heart.” There was low murmuring and rumbling from some of the other competitors, who were apparently just as jealous as I was. “Which means she doesn’t have to worry tonight. If you don’t hear your name, you will be going home immediately.”

  It would have been more fun if Harris would have just been honest with us. Like if he’d said, “Good evening, ladies. Dante will choose one lucky woman out of twenty-five, whom he will ultimately drop like a hotcake and embarrass in the national press once this is all over. Hope you enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame, because everyone will forget who you are the second you get sent home.”

  Instead he finished up with a “Good luck to everyone, and here’s Dante.”

  You’d think I’d be used to him, but I was struck all over again when he came out and smiled at us. “First, I would like to thank all of you for being here tonight. I know that many of you have sacrificed to do this, and I am so flattered and grateful. I’m glad to have had the chance to meet all of you, and it has been an amazing night. I’m sad that I have to let any of you go. I wish I could keep you all.”

  A few anxious laughs, and lots of twitching and fidgeting. An obviously drunk girl behind me kept swaying back and forth, sighing and singing to herself softly. I hoped she could keep it together until the cameras turned off. For Taylor’s sake, if nothing else.

  “But Harris tells me I can’t, and since I am hoping to find my future wife, this is a necessary evil.”

  He picked up one of the heart pins and held it. A couple of months ago I’d sent him some full seasons of the show because he’d never seen it before. He’d obviously studied them well. He stood there, staring at us, increasing the suspense. Even my heart was pounding in anticipation, and I knew I was going home. I could only imagine how the other women felt.

  “Emily.”

  Emily stepped forward with a smug look on her face, brushing past the front row. She walked up to Dante.

  “Emily, will you accept this piece of my heart?”

  “I will,” she said and hugged him.

  One down, only s
eventeen more to go.

  A parade of Ashleys, Lisas, and Tiffanys went up to accept their pins and pieces of Dante’s heart. This represented my worst fears—Dante sharing himself with everyone here, unable to commit to just one woman—and it was all I could do to not cackle inappropriately.

  Harris reemerged to remind us that Dante held the last pin in his hand, and that six women would be going home. I heard someone on my right start to whisper, “Please, please, please,” as we waited.

  “Lemon.”

  Was someone else here named Lemon?

  I stayed in my spot. Sometimes they called the wrong names. He could have been looking at me and meant someone else. Total accident. I’d let him recover.

  “Lemon?” he said again, looking right at me.

  My mouth dropped open. We had a deal. I was supposed to be getting out of this madness.

  “Me?” I said, again giving him the chance to fix his very obvious screwup.

  He smiled, and I knew it was no mistake. “Yes, you.”

  Red-hot anger boiled up inside me and I set my jaw, ready to let him have it. I was fixing to have a hissy fit with a tail on it. Then I saw Taylor out of the corner of my eye, her hands over her face. I reminded myself that this was live. Matthew was off somewhere watching. I couldn’t let her get fired. Sisters before killing misters who made promises and then broke them.

  I stalked over to him, trying very hard not to glare. “Lemon, will you accept this piece of my heart?”

  “Sure,” I said, smiling falsely and as sweetly as I could. He handed me the pin, and I didn’t hug him. I went back over to my spot. He looked a little uneasy at the expression on my face.

  Like he knew I was planning on giving him a Krav Maga crotch kick later.

  Harris wore an appropriately sorrowful expression. “Ladies, I am sorry for those who did not receive a piece of Dante’s heart. This means you will be going home tonight. Please take this opportunity to say good-bye.”

  I heard a couple of sobs behind me, and then everyone was hugging the girls who weren’t chosen. It seemed really unfair that women who wanted to be here would be sent home, and he had put me in a position where I had to stay. I held the pin so tightly in my hand that I worried I might draw blood.

  If we could just get these women to leave without someone begging Dante to reconsider, this would be over faster and I could let him have it. Fortunately, there were no beggars. Some of the cameras followed the rejected competitors out the door while an assistant handed out champagne flutes to those who remained.

  I passed on the drink and saw that he took one. “To finding true love,” he said, holding his glass aloft. The other girls all clinked their glasses against his before taking a drink, but Dante set his flute down on the bar behind him.

  “Cut!” someone shouted, and a collective sigh of relief went up from both cast and crew. Things had gone flawlessly, and I hoped Taylor appreciated the sacrifice I had made.

  Stalking over to Dante, I said, “Come with me. Now.”

  We went into the kitchen, the reflective surfaces of the stainless steel and quartz countertops making it feel even brighter. It was a direct contrast to my murderous mood.

  “What is wrong with you?” I asked as I tossed my pin onto the counter. He watched as it bounced and jumped before settling in one corner.

  “Limone, let me explain . . .”

  I actually stomped my foot. Like a three-year-old. “Don’t you ‘Limone’ me. You made me a promise. You said you would send me home.”

  “I never promised to send you home. You asked if I would, and I didn’t say anything back.”

  “You . . .” That made me stop short, as I recalled the conference room. Taylor had agreed to my plan, but Dante had just smiled at me and said nothing. He had tricked me. I should have made him put it in writing. Signed in blood.

  “I would never make you a promise that I wouldn’t keep.” That made me a little less mad, until he reached for my hand. I smacked him away. He was not going to use his charm and magic touch against me.

  “I need your help,” he tried again. “Please.”

  He sounded so serious, and he looked exhausted. He sat down at the counter, picking up my pin.

  More of this serious Dante. I didn’t know what to do with real emotion from him. It kind of freaked me out.

  “I’ve watched enough of this show to know that half of the women who sign up are here to become famous and they lie to the suitor about their true intentions. You could help me by being my inside woman. My spy. Like that movie you loved as a child.”

  He was talking about Harriet the Spy. I had wanted to be her when I was little. Except nicer. Only I didn’t think the nicer part had worked out. “I never should have told you about that.”

  “Limone, I would very much like to make your fantasy come true.”

  Which sounded sordid and steamy and made me a little woozy.

  “It’s a childhood dream, not a fantasy.”

  There was that grin. “Sorry, sometimes I get words in English confused.”

  Words in English confused, my butt.

  Dante always seemed to know where my weak spots were. The idea of being a spy did appeal to me. Sneaking around, taking notes, and keeping a spy journal. I had spent so many hours doing just that when I was younger, and to think that I could do it now for real, and for an actual purpose, was way too appealing.

  But I was too old to be making decisions based on a little girl’s wishes.

  “You’re already engaged. You’ve found the person who makes you happy, and you want to spend the rest of your life with him. I respect that. But you’re my friend, and the only person here that I trust to have my best interests at heart. Stay and help me choose my wife.”

  My heart beat furiously, anger bubbling through my veins. Then my throat suddenly felt thick, like I might start crying. And I felt stabby from the jealousy.

  Mad, sad, and jealous. None of which made sense.

  Because I didn’t have any right to those feelings. I looked down at the counter, picking at a raised fleck. I didn’t want to look at him.

  I couldn’t believe that he was taking this show so seriously. “Don’t you think you’re a little young to be getting married?” It was an argument we’d had multiple times before. Dante was two years younger than me, which was another reason I could never be with him. I wasn’t into cradle robbing.

  He sighed, and I could practically feel him rolling his eyes. He would say that he was so much more worldly and sophisticated than me that it balanced itself out. Then he’d say, “When you’re sixty and I’m fifty-eight, you won’t care.”

  “But I’m not sixty. I’m twenty-four,” I’d reply, and we’d argue about it more.

  “I guess Nico’s had a bigger impact on me than I realized,” he said. “He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him, and it made me realize that I want what he has. Creating arbitrary restrictions because of age seems foolish to me.”

  Maybe he really was ready to settle down. He’d definitely had a chance to sow plenty of royal oats. There was certainly enough photographic evidence of it.

  Not that I cared. He could run off and marry whoever he wanted and have lots of babies and it wouldn’t affect my life one way or the other.

  Yeah, I wasn’t buying the lie either.

  But, forgetting about my own personal drama, he was right about one thing. He was my friend. I did care about him and his future. And I couldn’t let him be snowed by some awful reptile like Abigail. “You really think the woman you want to marry is here?”

  He reached over and put his fingers on my chin, turning me to him. “I really think the woman I want to marry is here.”

  His eyes were so intense, so honest. The world stopped. Time ceased to exist. The oceans had dried up for all I knew. There was only me, Dante, and that current that tugged me to him, begging me to kiss him.

  Which I could never do again.

  Letting out a shaky breath, I tried to joke. �
��Every other man is terrified of getting married, and I know the one guy who thinks it’s the best thing ever.”

  I turned my face away for my own sanity. His fingers lingered for a second and then dropped.

  “Does that mean you’ll help me?”

  “Does a one-legged duck swim in a circle?”

  He sounded adorably confused. “I don’t know.”

  “It does. It means yes, I’ll help you. I’ll stay. For a little while. That’s what friends are for, right?”

  I really, really hoped I wouldn’t live to regret it.

  “So we are friends.”

  “Of course we’re friends.”

  “With benefits?” he asked hopefully.

  I raise a scornful eyebrow at him. “Um, no. No benefits whatsoever. Benefitless.”

  Then he laughed, and I suppressed the desire to laugh with him. Because every time I did, another one of my defenses fell down.

  He took the backing off of the pin. “May I?”

  All of the oxygen left the room. I was playing with fire again, and I was definitely going to get burned. But stupidly I said, “’Kay.”

  He tugged my jersey lightly and pushed the pin through the fabric. He reached inside to attach the backing, and as his fingers brushed against my heated skin, I hoped that when I passed out I wouldn’t hit the edge of the counter on my way down.

  Then he adjusted the pin, making sure the heart pointed the right direction. My actual heart beat so fast I anticipated a visit to a hospital in my near future.

  He didn’t help the situation when he put his hand on top of mine. I could just imagine the doctors’ conversation. “She ended up here how again?”

  “The prince touched her, apparently.”