Dirty Halo (The Forbidden Royals Trilogy Book 1)

by Julie Johnson

  “Crazy person?” A warm, familiar voice cuts through the room. “That, I can vouch for.”

  I’m so startled, I drop both eggs to the floor. I hear the unmistakable crunch of shells on tile along with a shriek from the housekeeper as she watches yolk spreading across her floor, but I don’t care. I’m already in motion — flying across the kitchen into Owen’s waiting arms.

  “You’re here!” I cry as he crushes me to his chest, breathing him in. He smells so good. Safe. Solid. Secure.

  Like home.

  “Of course I’m here. You think I’d let them lock you up and throw away the key without putting up a fight? Not a chance, Ems.”

  “My hero,” I tease in a swooning voice.

  He laughs. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t exactly easy. I probably called a hundred times, screaming as an apathetic operator fed me the same bullshit line about confidential royal protocol and routine security procedure. I was scared out of my fucking head that something had happened to you. Another hour, I was ready to call the press and plead my case to the public.”

  “God.” I squeeze him tighter. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Not your fault. It’s the bastards who dragged you here,” he mutters darkly.

  “Owen, the thing is—”

  “You know, I’m not actually sure why they changed their minds. I guess I must’ve worn them down, though, because about an hour ago this fancy black town car pulls up outside my apartment and the driver tells me to get in. By order of the King. How insane is that? I felt like I was in an action movie.” He snorts. “Not a good one.”

  A flash of guilt moves through me. I know exactly why he’s suddenly here with me; it has nothing to do with his extensive cellphone charges and everything to do with the deal I made in Linus’ study two hours ago. But I don’t have the heart to correct him.

  “Thank you for coming,” I whisper, blinking away tears. “I really can’t believe you’re here.”

  “Me? What about you?” he counters, pulling back to look down at me. There’s an undeniable fissure of concern between his narrowed brown eyes. I wince when I spot the small wound by his temple — evidence of his altercation with the guards in the alley.

  “God, you’re hurt from where that gun clipped you…”

  He shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing. Did you get it checked out? It could get infected or—”

  “Ems. I’m fine. I’m more worried about you.”

  “You don’t need to worry anymore. Honestly.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you’re okay… But what the fuck are you still doing here?” His gaze darts around the kitchen, zeroing in on the ingredients behind me. “Besides, apparently, baking cookies for the goddamn enemy.”

  Flinching, I drop my arms to my sides.

  “I mean it, Ems. What the hell is going on? I charge in, expecting to find you locked up in some dungeon like a prisoner of war, fighting tooth and nail for your freedom… Imagine my surprise to see you’re perfectly content being kidnapped.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Owen, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “Then explain it to me.

  I run both hands through my hair. “It’s complicated.”

  “What’s so complicated about it?” he asks. “Grab your shit and let’s get the hell out of here. Away from these people. Back to our life.”

  My eyes widen a shade. “I… Owen, I can’t.”

  “What the hell do you mean, you can’t?”

  I dart a glance behind me at Patricia, who’s down on her hands and knees cleaning the egg yolks off the floor, in plain earshot of every word we’re saying. If I thought there was any chance at all she’d allow it, I’d get down there and help her. I’m wise enough not to try.

  “Come with me, okay?” I plead with my best friend, grabbing his limp hand and threading our fingers together. “I’ll explain. Just… not here.”

  He stares at me stoically for a moment before returning my hand-squeeze. Calling an apology over my shoulder to Patricia, I lead him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Foreboding fills the pit of my stomach, weighing me down a bit more with each step we ascend.

  Why do I have a feeling I’m about to make an even bigger mess than the one I just left behind on the immaculate kitchen floors?

  It’s a gorgeous autumn day.

  The snow-capped mountains behind the manor make a picture-perfect backdrop for our walk through the gardens. Two guards trail us at a respectful distance — mute shadows, ever watchful as we wind a path around topiaries and bubbling fountains. The maze of carefully tended plots is beautiful despite the lack of summer blooms. On any other day, we’d be enjoying the view, laughing and joking about trivial things, sharing stories and making plans for the future.

  Today, we are a chasm of deep silence.

  He hasn’t said a word since I told him about the deal I made with Linus. I can’t say I blame him. When he arrived earlier, he thought he was here to rescue me. My real life knight-in-shining-armor. Instead, he learned the princess didn’t need any saving. In fact, she’d already struck a deal with the wicked king.

  I shiver as the breeze picks up. My light cotton blouse and thin navy pants may be fashionable in the eyes of the palace personal shoppers, but they’re not exactly suited to spending time outdoors in the brisk Germanian climate. I can’t help thinking their decision not to include a coat in my new wardrobe was less an oversight than an intentional move to keep me from straying too far from the manor.

  Nice try, assholes.

  I’ve begun rubbing my hands together for warmth when Owen stops walking, shrugs out of his sturdy olive green jacket, and passes it to me.

  “Here. Put it on.”

  My throat clogs up. He’s always taking care of me — even when he’s pissed.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, shoving my arms through the holes. Made of heavy canvas-like material, the coat is practically the length of a dress on my petite frame, its sleeves hanging down far past my hands. He can’t quite hide the twitching of his lips when he sees how ridiculous I look wearing it.

  “Owen—”

  His lips flatten into a frown again. “Don’t.”

  “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

  “Of course I do. I’ve known you your whole damn life.” He sighs deeply. “You’re going to try to justify why this is the right decision for you, in the long run. Because you’ve no doubt already made a list of pros and cons, and rehearsed all your little talking points in your bathroom mirror…”

  My cheeks flame. He really does know me.

  “But I’m not interested in any of that fake bullshit, Emilia. I’m your best friend. I want the truth.”

  “I told you the truth! I’d never lie to you, you know that.”

  “Then don’t try to pass off this princess trial period as an elaborate plan to abdicate the throne.” He shakes his head. “If that were the case, you’d walk out those front gates with me right now and never look back.”

  “Owen, it’s not that simple…”

  “It is that simple.” His eyes are undeniably sad. “But we both know you won’t. Because there’s a part of you that wants to be here. A part of you that needs to know what it would be like to be his daughter. To wear that crown. To live the life you always should’ve had.”

  I lock my jaw, not contradicting him. I can’t.

  We don’t lie to each other.

  “You can tell yourself you’re only doing this so he’ll pay your mortgage, so you can keep the house you grew up in and still maintain your anonymity… but I know there’s a part of you that’s curious what it would be like, living in places like this instead.” He jerks his thumb back toward the Lockwood Estate. “Servants at your beck and call. A bonafide princess, right out of a fairy tale.”

  “And what if I am curious?” I snap defensively, growing tired of his judgmental to
ne. “Is that such a crime?”

  “It is if it means selling your soul to these people!”

  “These people? You mean my biological father?”

  “Yeah, the one who never wanted jack shit to do with you until yesterday? I recall him pretty well,” he mutters. “Really pathetic to see you fold like a fucking lawn chair the first second he gives you any attention at all.”

  Tears spring to my eyes. “Not all of us were raised in a family like yours, Owen. Perfect parents, perfect house, perfect sisters. Some of us have some unresolved issues that, gee, it might be nice to deal with when finally given the chance. I thought you, of all people, would understand that. Maybe I was wrong.”

  “You think I don’t know you have baggage? I’m the one who’s been hauling it around for you for twenty fucking years!”

  He roars the words at the top of his lungs, so loud a flock of birds takes flight from a nearby tree, disturbed from their roosts by the sound. So loud, I’m genuinely surprised it doesn’t bring the guards running, guns drawn.

  “Owen—” My voice cracks as a tear races down my cheek. I honestly can’t believe he just said that to me. Or, more accurately, screamed that at me. In all our years of friendship, he’s never acted this way. I can’t help wondering if this reaction is about more than just me getting to know my father.

  His furious expression crumbles a bit when he sees my tears.

  “I’m sorry,” he grits out after a moment, his anger tightly in check. “I didn’t mean to yell, Ems.”

  I nod stiffly.

  “I just…” He takes a step closer to me. “I can’t stand by and watch as you’re manipulated into a life you never wanted.”

  I’m silent.

  “I don’t want you getting swallowed up by these people.”

  “I won’t. Give me a little credit, Owen.”

  “Ems—”

  “It’s not like it’s forever. It’s one month. One. How much could possibly change in a month?” I ask, ignoring the bolt of foreboding that shoots through me as the words leave my mouth. I feel like I’ve just uttered some sort of challenge to the universe; like I’ve jinxed myself with one careless phrase.

  What a ridiculous thought.

  Owen takes another step forward, until our faces are a half-foot apart, and leans down to take my face between his hands. His thumb brushes away a teardrop. “Things change all the time. In a month. In a night. In an instant.”

  “Not me.” My voice is adamant. “Not us.”

  “I’m worried I’m going to lose you.”

  “You could never lose me, Owen.” I reach up and place my hand on top of his. “Even if I stay, even if I don’t abdicate… nothing will alter. Not when it comes to you and me. We will always be best friends.”

  Something flashes in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but he never gets the chance, because we’re suddenly not alone. Two people in tight athletic clothes jog around the bend in the path, practically barreling straight into us. We spring apart instantly.

  “Well, isn’t this cozy,” Chloe drawls, taking in the sight of us with laser-sharp interest. Her red ponytail swings jauntily as a grin spreads across her face.

  I know what this must look like to them — me, wearing Owen’s jacket, gazing upward as he cups my face. Not two friends coming to terms with some big changes; a couple, sharing a stolen moment in a secret garden.

  Why do you care what they think? I ask myself, even as my eyes cut straight to Carter. My heart starts to thud. I haven’t seen him since last night — haven’t spoken to him since our screaming match in the hallway. There’s a certain twisted irony in the fact that the last words I hissed at him were an adamant declaration that I don’t have a boyfriend. His cold cerulean eyes meet mine, utterly devoid of all emotion, and somehow I know he’s thinking the exact same thing.

  I swallow hard.

  “Who’s the regulation hottie?” Chloe asks, planting her hands on her hips. “And where do I get myself one?”

  “This is Owen,” I tell her, not offering any more detail than absolutely necessary. “Owen, these are Linus’ step-children. Chloe and—” Why is it so hard to say his name when he’s looking at me like that? “And Carter.”

  Carter’s eyes break with mine and slide to Owen’s, his severe expression intensifying. I feel Owen stiffen at my side, rising to his full height as he returns the look. Neither man says anything — not out loud, anyway. But whatever nonverbal communication they’re exchanging isn’t good, judging by the frigid silence that spreads over our small group.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Chloe interjects with forced brightness, her eyes sharp as they flit back and forth between her brother and my best friend. “If all of Emilia’s friends are this hot, I think maybe this unwanted-little-sister thing won’t be so bad.”

  I push out a thin laugh.

  Owen glances at her cooly. “Emilia is not your sister.”

  “Owen,” I mutter. “She was only kidding. Don’t be an ass.”

  It’s clear he’s not in a joking mood, though, as his eyes return to mine. “I don’t give a shit if she was kidding or not. Do you even know anything about these new siblings you’ve decided to live with? Probably not, since you avoid royal gossip like the plague.”

  “For good reason,” I insist.

  “Not when you expect me to leave you here alone with them!”

  “Emilia’s a big girl,” Chloe says, amused. “She can make up her own mind about us.”

  “I think that’s what he’s afraid of,” Carter adds lowly.

  Owen tenses. “Don’t you speak to me about Emilia. Ever.”

  “Why?” Carter smirks. “Afraid you’ll hear something you don’t like?”

  “Now, now, boys,” Chloe murmurs. “Play nice or we’ll kick you out of the sandbox.”

  Owen ignores her, turning back to me. His eyes are full of such keen desperation, it scares me. “Don’t you understand? These people represent everything that’s wrong with this monarchy. They reap all the benefits of royalty without any of the responsibility. They’re just… leeches, sucking the lifeblood from our taxpayers.”

  Chloe snorts.

  He glances at her. “What, you disagree? You’ve made so many visits to rehab, I’m pretty sure your next OD is free.” His eyes flicker to Carter. “And your brother has bedded half the damn country!”

  The warning growl that rattles in Carter’s throat is scary enough to send a chill down my spine.

  “That’s enough, Owen!” I hiss, totally mortified. “I don’t even recognize you right now!”

  “Right back at you,” he snaps. “God, Ems, I know you’re looking for a family, but I think you deserve better than a cokehead and a walking STD.”

  Carter takes a threatening stride forward, hands fisted at his sides. “Care to say that again, pretty boy?”

  Owen turns to him and the dark expression on his face is like nothing I’ve ever seen. “You don’t scare me, little lordling.”

  “Then you’re either very brave or very stupid.” Cerulean eyes glitter. “I’m guessing I know which one.”

  “Seeing as I’m not the husband of a desperate housewife eager for an affair with some half-royal prick… I think I’m safe from you.” Owen leans in, voice dropping. “Isn’t that your usual MO — bang the wife, humiliate the husband, ruin the marriage? See, unlike Emilia, I do read the papers.”

  Chloe sucks in a sharp breath.

  Carter’s face goes totally dark — clearly, Owen has struck a nerve. When he steps toward us, I feel my pulse stutter inside my chest.

  “You know, you seem a bit preoccupied with my sexual conquests.” Carter smiles without even the slightest trace of humor. “Don’t worry. There are no women in my bedroom here — which, as it happens, is right across the hall from Emilia’s.” He pauses meaningfully. “I’ll be sure to keep a close eye on her for you, mate.”

  Owen actually flinches. “If you touch so much as a hair on her head…”

/>   “Oh, I won’t,” Carter goads. “Not unless she asks me to, of course.”

  “Please, stop,” I beg, voice cracking under the strain. “Both of you! This is absurd.”

  I grab Owen’s arm, trying to shake some sense into him, but he’s beyond my reach — lost in a dark, consuming fury. Staring at his face, at those deep brown eyes, that floppy blond hair I’ve always loved so much… for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m looking at a stranger.

  When Carter advances another step, Chloe throws out an arm to halt him. I do the same with Owen, pressing him back with all the strength I possess. I can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly, even through the thick sleeve of the jacket. Both men look like they’re one inch away from beating each other senseless on the idyllic garden path. There’s so much testosterone in the air, I’m surprised a five o’clock shadow doesn’t break out on my jaw, just from breathing it in.

  Chloe’s wild eyes meet mine. “Maybe you two should go.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  With a grimace, I step fully in front of Owen and start pushing him backward, trying to force him out of the line of fire. He resists, legs locked firmly in place.

  “Let’s go, Harding,” I snap, shoving his chest. “Don’t make me call your mother. You know I will. And we both know Belinda will be pissed.”

  His eyes flicker to mine and for just a second, I see a trace of the boy I used to know beneath this posturing, unrecognizable alpha male.

  “Please,” I whisper.

  With a sigh, he clenches his jaw, spins, and starts walking down the path — head bowed, hands fisted, shoulders tense beneath the fabric of his long-sleeve shirt. I cast a quick glance back at Chloe and Carter before I follow, totally at a loss for words. I’m stunned by Owen’s behavior. Totally mortified by the things he said about them.

  “Oh, don’t you dare apologize,” Chloe cuts me off before I can, her lips twisting up in a small smile. “Thanks to you, things are finally getting interesting around here.”

  With a grateful nod in her direction, I turn and dart after Owen. I never spare so much as a glance at Carter. But the whole way down the path, I feel the weight of those too-blue eyes burning into my back like a fire I cannot extinguish, no matter how hard I try.