Royal Chase (The Royals of Monterra)

by Sariah Wilson

  Another way I was their black sheep.

  Dropping out of beauty pageants my sophomore year had been the first strike against me. It was right after Sterling had broken up with me, I’d lost ballet, and I didn’t want to do pageants anymore. They seemed shallow and heartless and I wanted to do something more meaningful. Or, at least, something I would enjoy. I knew my mother loved bragging to her friends about how well I did. She never said anything to me about it, just got tight-lipped and changed the subject if I brought it up.

  Then there was the fact that I hadn’t gone to the University of Georgia, and every generation of my family had matriculated there since it opened its doors in 1801. I went to Brighton University instead, and did not become a Bulldog like everyone expected me to. I still remembered the stricken look on my father’s face when I told him about my college plans.

  Then there was the work thing. We all kept trying to win each other over to our points of view, but it wasn’t happening.

  The one thing I’d done in the last ten years that had thrilled them was getting engaged to Sterling, which was one of the main reasons I had a hard time imagining calling it off. I didn’t want to disappoint them again.

  We went inside, letting the screen door shut behind us. I took my bag up to my childhood room and put it on the bed. I looked around at all the memorabilia, the trophies, the pictures on my bulletin board. What would the sixteen-year-old version of myself have thought of all this? Would she have liked Dante? Would she have wanted me to choose him?

  I didn’t know, but I was pretty sure she would have been furious with me for getting engaged to Sterling after the way he broke our heart.

  Since I was planning on staying here overnight, once Dante left, I could see my fiancé. That would probably help me get my head on straight and make the decisions that I needed to make. I picked up my old princess phone and dialed his cell.

  “Brown.”

  “Sterling! I’m in town and I wanted to see you. They’re filming at my parents’ house until about ten o’clock, and then I’m free the rest of the night if you want to come by.” Maybe we could even stay up all night talking the way we had after our first date a few months ago.

  He let out a long sigh. “I would love to, but we have a deadline for our complaint tomorrow morning, and I’ll be up all night working on it with some of the other associates.”

  Strangely, I didn’t feel as disappointed as I thought I would. My ego was a bit bruised, because shouldn’t he want to spend time with me? But I would live.

  “I would love to see you, but you’ll be back soon and we’ll be married and then I’ll be able to see you all the time.”

  “But . . .”

  He didn’t let me finish. “I have to go. Talk to you soon.” He hung up.

  Not even an “I love you” that time. I didn’t know what to make of that.

  I ran a brush through my hair, put some more lipstick on, and went downstairs to wait for Dante’s arrival. The show had offered to cater the dinner for us, but my mother wasn’t having it. If there was entertaining to be done, she would make the phone calls herself. “Yankees wouldn’t even know who to call,” she mumbled under her breath as she called Dave’s Barbecue to place an order. I was going to remind her that she was wearing a microphone and they could hear everything she was saying, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. She would have complained out loud either way.

  She was usually the picture of politeness, but not when she felt like her home was being invaded.

  A half hour passed by, and my mind wandered. I probably should have been thinking about Sterling, but instead I wondered whether Dante had ever had true Southern barbecue before, what he would think of the ranch, and what he would think of my parents. I hoped they liked him.

  I heard a car, and I went over to the window, but it turned out to just be the delivery driver. He left after handing my mother the food, and about ten minutes later I heard another car coming into our driveway. This time it had to be him. There was a lightness in my chest, and adrenaline coursed through me as I went out to the porch to greet him.

  He was in jeans and a dark blue T-shirt today, much more casual than I’d anticipated. I wore a pale pink dress, as I’d thought he might have dressed up. He came up to kiss me hello. “You look just horrid today,” he said with a grin.

  “You’re looking very unpleasant yourself.” I smiled back.

  I led him inside to the parlor, where my parents waited. My parents were slow to warm up to people, and I hoped this evening wouldn’t turn into a huge, awkward disaster. “Mother, this is Dante. Dante, this is my mother, Sue Ellen Beauchamp, and my father, Montgomery Beauchamp.”

  My mother held her hand out to him while simultaneously glaring at me. I’d let her down yet again. She probably thought I was being too informal, given his title. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Dante took her hand and, smart man that he was, kissed it hello. Like he’d just waltzed out of the nineteenth century. “This can’t be your mother,” he said to me. “You told me your mother was fifty-eight years old.”

  My mother giggled. Giggled! “Parts of me are,” she said conspiratorially, which caused Dante to laugh, and my mother actually looked flustered. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her even a little discomposed. “Should we call you Your Highness or Prince Dante?”

  I’d guessed right about the source of her displeasure.

  “Just Dante, please.”

  My father stood up to meet him, and Dante gave him a hearty handshake. “I’m also pleased to meet you, sir.”

  “Likewise. Lemonade has told us so much about you. She’s just gone on and on, and I’m glad we get a chance to finally meet you.”

  Now it was my turn to be flustered, and I could definitely feel my cheeks turning pink. Dante gave me a knowing grin, and my face got hotter.

  My parents stood up, with my father offering my mother his arm. “If you would care to join us in the dining room, we’ve prepared one of Lemon’s favorites.”

  Dante offered me his arm, and when I took it, he leaned in to whisper, “It’s cute that your father calls you Lemonade. Maybe I should start calling you Limonata.” I knew why he liked it. I could actually hear him thinking the words, “sweet and tart.”

  I told my rising blood pressure that this was neither the time nor the place for that.

  And despite my decision, I still managed to say something I shouldn’t have. “I like when you call me Limone,” I confessed.

  His eyes shone, like he was lit up from within. “Then Limone it is.” While my heart tried to resume its normal beat, he turned to my mother and asked, “What is that delicious smell?”

  “That? Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little something I put together.”

  “Translation,” I whispered into his ear. “My mother made her world-famous phone call to our favorite barbecue restaurant and had them deliver.”

  I could see him trying not to laugh as he helped me into my chair. I got the ecru linen napkin from my plate and put it over my lap. My parents had shortened the dining room table so that we could all sit close together. Momma and Daddy sat next to each other across from us, and Dante was seated next to me.

  “Let’s say grace.” My father reached out for my hand and I took Dante’s with the other, and braced myself so that I wouldn’t jump or react in front of my parents. I managed to keep it under control. As my father prayed, Dante ran his thumb gently back and forth across my skin, and it was very hard to give thanks to the Lord since all I could focus on was that tingling sensation Dante caused.

  “Amen,” my parents said, and I threw out an amen as well. Like I’d been listening and following along.

  Dante didn’t let go of my hand right away, and I let us stay like that, allowing that intoxicating feeling to linger, until my father handed me the brisket.

  I made sure not to look at Dante just then because I had a good idea of what I would see in his eyes, and I did not want to be responsibl
e for giving my father a heart attack because I had pounced on Dante at the dinner table.

  I had more manners than that.

  At least, I hoped.

  Chapter 20

  Do not read the next sentence.

  Aha! A rebel! I’ve always liked that about you.

  Things were going well, until I heard a crew member complaining in the background about my father. He was looking directly into the camera as he asked my mother if she wanted the corn.

  “Daddy, you can’t look at the camera. It ruins the shot and we’ll have to do it over again. Just pretend like it isn’t there.”

  “Oh, right,” he whispered. “Sue Ellen, darlin’, would you like the peas?” And then he promptly looked into the camera again.

  “Sorry,” he said, and stared into the lens for a third time.

  Then it was Dante to the rescue. “Mr. Beauchamp, I understand that you’re a University of Georgia fan.”

  “Boy, I’ll tell you what.”

  Dante looked confused. “What?”

  “That’s the end of the sentence,” I whispered. “In this case it means he loves UGA.” I probably should have given him a Southern to English dictionary.

  Then it occurred to me that I had absolutely no memory of ever telling him about my father and his football. How had he known?

  “I watched the Belk Bowl from last year,” Dante said. “That was an exciting game.”

  And that was all it took for my father to talk for the next thirty minutes about UGA’s win over Louisville, with all the necessary play-by-plays to make his points about what a superior team we had. Dante interjected with his own opinions and commentary, which let me know he had actually watched the game.

  The game had happened not long after Dante and I had met. Had he watched it then? Or later? And why?

  And when did he start liking football?

  Then the discussion turned to rival schools Auburn and Georgia Tech. “We’re playing the Yellow Jackets at home late November. You should come and watch with me.”

  “I would love that, sir.”

  “Any Bulldogs fan has to call me Montgomery.”

  And with that, he had successfully managed to get my daddy to stop staring down the camera. Then he turned his attention to my mother. “I heard that you are in charge of the Junior League’s carnival this year, Mrs. Beauchamp.”

  “Sue Ellen, please. And I am.” My mother sat up just a little bit straighter in her chair. “I have some very exciting ideas to make it the most successful fundraiser ever.”

  Now I knew for a fact I hadn’t told him anything about my momma and the Junior League carnival, because I hadn’t even known about it.

  “I’m sure you’re going to do a wonderful job. I would like to make a contribution or donate a prize, if that would be all right with you.”

  She literally batted her eyelashes at him. “That would be most appreciated. Thank you.”

  My father wanted to talk to him some more about the Bulldogs, and when the men weren’t paying attention to us, my mother leaned in and whispered, “We should put him in the kissing booth. We’d make all the money we’d need for the budget for the next ten years.”

  She had no idea how right she was.

  Most of dinner passed that way, with Dante knowing things about my parents he couldn’t have known, and making them pleased as punch with compliments and flattery. They ate it up.

  It worked so well, they didn’t have a chance to interrogate him. Since I had started dating, they insisted on grilling every boy I went out with. It was humiliating and terrifying for the boy in question, but now it was almost time for dessert.

  We were safe.

  Or we were, right up until we weren’t. “Tell me, Dante, what it is it you do for work? Will you able to provide for my Lemonade?”

  I wanted to groan and hide under the table.

  Dante turned to smile at me, and I tried to smile back. “I have a lot of responsibilities as part of the royal family. Charities and events, things like that.” My father nodded. These were things my parents would easily understand, as they spent most of their free time doing the very same activities. “I am in the process of opening my own nightclub, and I have hopes that it will be successful. But even if it’s not, I will always be able to take care of Lemon. I will spend the rest of my life making sure she wants for nothing.”

  Yes, I melted right into the floor. I hoped my mother wouldn’t be too mad at me for ruining her favorite rug.

  “That daughter of mine has it in her head that she wants to have a career,” Daddy continued. “What do you think about that?”

  Now Dante was in trouble. If he agreed with my parents, I’d be furious. If he agreed with me, it would probably make them not like him as much.

  “I think that’s a decision between Lemon and her husband. If she were my wife, I would support her in whatever she wanted to do. If she wanted to work full-time, we would find a way to make it work for our relationship and our family. She’s so smart and so hardworking, and it’s very important to her to have her own career. How could I ask her to give that up?” He reached over to take my hand, and this time I just felt warmth and tenderness. It was so wonderful to finally feel understood.

  He risked the parental wrath to side with me. But surprisingly, neither one of my parents seemed upset and both nodded thoughtfully. As if I hadn’t explained it to them repeatedly, and Dante was the first person who’d ever presented it to them in a way that they could understand.

  “And where do you see yourself in the future?” my mother asked.

  “I’ll be in Monterra. I’ll be able to have my own suite in the palace, but it will depend on whether or not my wife wants to live there. I would like for my nightclub to be turning a profit and be successful enough for me to franchise it. And I’m from a large family, so I hope to have a lot of children, and I would love for Lemon to be their mother.”

  I couldn’t breathe. Whether that was because he foresaw me having an ungodly number of children or because he wanted me to be their mother, I wasn’t sure.

  It also could have been because that was somehow the perfect thing for him to say. I was my parents’ only child, but not by choice. They’d suffered at least a dozen miscarriages and two stillbirths. All boys. I was the only one who survived. My parents were both only children and had hoped for their own large family. It hadn’t happened, which was one of the reasons they hovered over my life and wanted to have so much say in it. All their hopes and dreams were funneled into me. It was also why I let them down so often. There weren’t any siblings to distribute the guilt among.

  My eyes flickered over to the cameras. My parents would be hurt if Dante had made this up for their benefit or for the show. He had touched a nerve that he couldn’t have been aware of.

  “And it will hopefully coincide with Lemon’s plans, because her primary client is my family, so we’ll both be in the same place at the same time. And my family has a private jet, so you could come to Monterra to visit and we could come here as often as you’d like.” The show was going to have to edit half of this conversation out, with the references to his family and me working for them.

  That turned to a discussion of Monterra and what it was like, and how my parents had been wanting to visit after I’d told them all about it.

  Obviously, I hadn’t told them everything. Which was good, because if they knew the whole truth Dante probably would have had buckshot in his behind by now.

  He totally and completely charmed them both. I could see it. He had them eating out of his hand. They already adored him.

  My mother and I stood to clear the plates, and Dante put his hand on my wrist. “Please, allow me.” More brownie points with the Beauchamp women.

  He took the plates from each of us and carried them into the kitchen.

  “Fine young man, fine young man,” my father said. It might not have sounded like much, but coming from him that was high praise, indeed. “I’m going to see if he wan
ts to play horseshoes.”

  Daddy had never played horseshoes with Sterling. It was the highest honor he would bestow on another man, one my own fiancé had somehow managed to fall short of. My father went into the kitchen, presumably to ask him if wanted to play. They came back out, and Dante had obviously agreed because they headed out front. He winked at me as they went past.

  “Come help me with dessert?” my momma asked, and I went with her into the kitchen to arrange a tray. She had me get the mini strawberry shortcakes out of the fridge, while she made up a batch of lemonade.

  I hoped Dante wouldn’t think the drink was some kind of code.

  I had thought she’d want to talk about him, but instead she told me the latest gossip from the country club. How Mrs. Delacroix caught her husband and the nanny, and how Edward Charleston was soon to become Edna Charleston. I only half listened, feeling more confused and churned up than ever. I had been worried that this evening would not go well, but it couldn’t have gone any better. Dante had been, well, perfect.

  We went out onto the porch and sat in side-by-side rocking chairs. I put the tray on the little table in front of us. We watched the men playing horseshoes, and I was pretty sure Dante was letting my father win. I tried to sneak bites of dessert when the cameras weren’t on us because I was starving. They would have to leave soon though, because the sun was starting to set, and they were going to run out of daylight.

  “I didn’t want to like him,” my mother said. “But I did. He charmed the pants off me.”

  I tried not to grimace at her choice of words, because Dante definitely specialized in charming pants off women. “He’s very good at that.”

  “Is there something I should be doing?”

  Huh? “Like what?”

  She looked at me pointedly. “Like making some cancellation phone calls.” Her voice sounded strained. I had done it again. Upset and disappointed her, without even trying. It made me feel like I was about eight years old.