Royal Chase (4 page)

She said it in one quick breath, and I narrowed my eyes at the actress. Genesis seemed like such a sweetheart that I couldn’t imagine anyone being mean to her for any reason.

Although sometimes I was too quick to judge. Maybe the actress got a lot of flak on Twitter and used her block button liberally. She might be really nice. I should give her the benefit of the doubt. Especially if it would help my little fledgling company to succeed.

She walked over to us, and Genesis fell silent.

“Hello. I’m Abigail Morris-Mansey.” She had a smooth, posh, upper-class British accent. She held her hand out limply, and I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to grab it. So I shook her fingers.

“I’m Lemon, and this is Genesis. Nice to meet you.”

“Beg your pardon? What did you say?”

Confused, I glanced over at Genesis. She looked like she wished she could just shrivel up and disappear. “I said, I’m Lemon, this is Genesis.”

“Very sorry, but I simply can’t understand a word you’re saying. You have an extremely thick accent. Excuse me.”

My accent was
not
that thick and I knew she’d understood me just fine. I’d lived with women long enough to know that she was playing a mind game and trying to intimidate me. Too bad for her—I didn’t intimidate easily. Abigail walked outside toward the pool, carrying a drink in one hand and smoothing down her hair with the other. A cameraman followed after her while she looked out at the horizon, as if thinking deep thoughts.

So much for her ever becoming a client.

“That’s her! That’s the girl who told production I had an eating disorder!” I heard a woman screech. I turned back to the window to see somebody in a hideous tangerine getup pointing a finger at the window, and I craned my neck to see who was coming in. The new girl had just stepped into the room when the tangerine woman stalked over to the new girl and slapped her.

I gasped, and then ran over to try and separate them. Tangerine Girl was screaming, “You were trying to get me kicked off the show, weren’t you?”

At the same time, the other woman was yelling, “You’re crazy! What is wrong with you! Get off of me!”

None of the crew stepped in to help. They stood there and filmed, saying nothing. So I yanked the tangerine girl off of the other one and pushed her back. She fell onto her butt, still yelling and screaming.

I put my fingers into my mouth and whistled loudly. The screaming finally stopped. I channeled Grandma Lemon the best I could. “Y’all need to calm down. This is not how ladies behave.”

Some more choice words were exchanged, but the other girls managed to separate the fighters into opposite corners of the room. I worried that I might have to spend the rest of the night playing referee.

And that things would only get worse once Dante joined us.

Chapter 4

I never realized how much I like surprises until I met you.

I already had a pounding headache, and it didn’t seem like it was going away anytime soon. I had spent a long time talking with Genesis, the only other halfway normal person here, and we both enjoyed the show put on by the drunken women who had gone into a tizzy when Dante entered the room.

“He sure is handsome,” Genesis sighed.

And in other news, water was wet.

I encouraged her to try to meet him, although I didn’t like her odds given the man-eating savages currently monopolizing his attention. He looked over their heads at me and gave me a “sorry” expression and I just waved. That’s what we were here for. He wasn’t there to spend time with me.

“I’m relieved he only has a bit of an accent,” Abigail said to some women off to my right. Dante and Rafe had been allowed to attend Columbia and MIT, respectively, unlike their older brother, who had only been allowed to go to university in England since he was the crown prince and all. Even then they’d only let Nico go because England’s crown prince was attending the same school, which would double the amount of security. Dante had once joked that as “the spares,” no one cared if he and Rafe came to the United States. Which meant that they had only the barest trace of an Italian accent when they spoke English.

“Some of the girls here have such thick accents I can’t understand them.”

I would not get annoyed or let her provoke me. Hopefully, Dante would see right through Abigail and kick her off the show too.

She noticed me then and said, “Oh, no offense.”

“Bless your heart. Lots taken.”

She gave me a dirty look, which let me know that she did indeed understand me, but had singled me out as her first victim in what was sure to be a six-week smear campaign against all the competitors.

I sat down on a bar stool and asked the bartender for some Sprite. Dante made his way over to me, with a cloud of desperate women clinging to his heels. They stayed a few steps back as he sat next to me. His leg accidentally brushed mine, and I refused to acknowledge the way it made my stomach go fluttery.

“You’re not drinking?”

I probably should drink. It might help dull the boring. But on the other hand, it would definitely make me more susceptible to him. “Nope. Kat’s my spirit animal.”

He looked confused. “Your what?”

I noticed that there were no cameras nearby, which meant I could explain without getting embarrassed. “My spirit animal. My life choices guide. She has what I want—a degree; plans for her international children’s charity; and she landed the man of her dreams, who just happens to be an actual prince. So I’ve adopted her lifestyle and am giving up certain things. Like alcohol.” It was a weird flaw of mine, and was probably because I was both super competitive and mildly superstitious—if somebody went on a three-day cleanse and lost five pounds, I’d do it for a week and lose ten. Kat went without alcohol and sex and had all her dreams come true, and so would I, only better.

He gave me a knowing grin, while I took my soda from the bartender. Dante asked for a scotch.

“What? It totally worked for her.”

“You could have landed a prince too, without forgoing anything.”

I sighed and shook my head while he laughed. He stopped mid-laugh with a quizzical expression.

“Wait, does this mean you and the fiancé haven’t . . .”

I put a hand over his mouth. The cameras were everywhere, and even though they’d left us alone a minute ago, now we had like five of them pointed right at us. My relationship with Sterling was my personal business, and all of America did not need to know about it. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and I pulled my hand away.

“No, we haven’t.”

That grin got bigger, and I decided to ignore it.

“Challenge accepted,” he said.

“What? What challenge?”

“The no alcohol thing.” The bartender came back with Dante’s drink, but he waved it away. “It will be my first task.”

His first task? “What in the world are you talking about?”

But before he could explain, a petite brunette was at his elbow, tugging at him to come and talk. “I’ll tell you later,” he said as he allowed himself to be led away.

I didn’t know how much time had passed, because I had nothing to do but drink my soda and watch the women preen and posture as they tried to get Dante’s attention. He seemed to be loving the situation and had nothing but smiles and compliments for everyone. Always so polite, always so charming.

It was early summer in California, and despite the open windows, I was hot. The overhead lights, all the bodies, the weather—everything contributed to making the room stuffy and unbearable. I didn’t know how Dante was doing it in that tuxedo. I was pulling my jersey away from my body to try and let some breeze through, while he looked cool and calm.

Genesis had wandered off, and I’d lost track of her hours ago. Taylor had told me that the producers would be pulling the girls aside for interviews and what they called “In The Moments,” or ITMs. She told me that some of the crew called them TMIs, because it wasn’t uncommon for a contestant to share way too much information.

Somebody kissed Dante on the cheek, leaving pink lipstick. I quite literally had a flash of red before my eyes as she giggled and wiped his cheek clean.

I’d had about all I could stand, so I escaped to the backyard to get away from the heat, the alcohol-induced fights, and the raging hormones.

There was a pool, and then a massive yard behind it with trees, rows of flowers, and open green spaces. It reminded me of our ranch back in Georgia. I found a massive old oak and sat on the side opposite to the house. Taylor could yell at me later.

I looked up at the full moon and realized that I had no idea what time it was. I was totally reliant on my phone for everything, including checking the time, and so I never wore a watch.

Thankfully, by this time tomorrow, I would have my phone back and things would return to normal.

“Hiding out?”

I jumped, putting my hand over my heart. It beat fast and heavy. Whether that was from being surprised or him being close to me, I didn’t know. “You almost gave me a heart attack. What are you doing?”

Dante sat down on the grass next to me, looking out of place in his tuxedo. “Running away. You?”

“Same.”

“You are going to owe me for this,
Limone,
” he said as he took off his jacket and placed it on the ground.

“Owe you? Pretty sure you owe
me
now.”

He flashed that smile that always turned my stomach to jelly, and I forced myself to look back up at the sky, searching for stars that couldn’t shine through the layer of pollution.

“I owe you?” He let out a short laugh. “Don’t worry. I plan on paying you back.” His voice sounded weird. Ominous. Un-Dante-like.

Before I could ask what he meant, he said, “I heard things got crazy in there earlier.” He sounded like himself again. So I told him about the catfight that had taken place. He was laughing as I told the story. I, admittedly, played up the comedic aspects. I liked hearing him laugh. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

A twig snapped behind us and we both turned. I was worried that we’d been caught and they’d force us to go back inside.

“It’s only Marco.” I heard the relief in Dante’s voice. Marco was his primary bodyguard, and was one of the nicest people I’d ever met. One of the deadliest, too. I saw him practicing hand-to-hand combat in Monterra once, and I pitied the person who ever tried to get at Dante.

“Hey, Marco!” I called out.

“
Buonasera
, Signorina Lemon.” He melted back into the shadows, and we sat quietly for a couple of minutes until it was clear that he was giving us some privacy.

“I’m glad I caught you alone. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

He suddenly sounded serious, which made me wary and a little nervous. Dante was never serious. I wondered if it was about how he planned to pay me back. Or the task thing he’d mentioned earlier.

“You should tell me about this fiancé of yours.”

“I don’t know if we should talk about this.” It seemed strange to talk about Sterling with Dante. I didn’t talk about Dante with Sterling, either.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We’re friends, and I would like to know what’s happening in your life.” He sounded so sweet and sincere. I ran through my list again of why Dante would be a terrible boyfriend.

Maybe talking about Sterling would help keep us in the friend zone. It would be a reminder to both of us that I was an engaged woman and he needed to stop chasing me for fun.

“What’s his name?”

“Sterling.”

“Sterling? That’s not a name. That’s a type of silver.”

I pushed him on his shoulder and he listed to one side, laughing. “I’m sorry. I won’t tease. Sterling what?”

“Sterling Jackson Brown, the fourth.”

“He sounds like a law firm.” I went to hit him again and he held up his hands, still laughing. “Sorry, sorry. Please tell me you’re not marrying a lawyer.”

I sat still for a beat. “What’s wrong with lawyers?”

“Everything’s wrong with lawyers.”

“My mother was a lawyer.”

“A lawyer created an angelic creature like you? I don’t believe it.” He reached out when he said this, brushing a strand of hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear. I held my breath until he took his hand away, and I closed my eyes slowly and opened them again. He made me more skittish than a newborn colt.

“True story. It’s how my parents met.” Even I could hear the wobbliness of my voice. I hoped he didn’t notice. “She was an environmental lawyer, and my daddy had started up his oil company, and they met in court when she tried to shut him down. They started dating once the trial was over. Daddy says he won the case and the girl, and then Momma reminds us that she only lost on a technicality, because she was a great lawyer who should have won.”

“How do you know she was great?”

“Because a good lawyer knows the law. A great lawyer knows the judge.”

He laughed at that, and I joined him. Most of my time spent with Dante alternated between wanting to laugh with him and wanting to punch him for making me feel things I didn’t want to feel.

It was exhausting.

“Did your mother keep practicing law?”

“She stopped when they got married. They wanted a family more than anything. My grandfather died when my daddy was young, and my poor grandmother, who had never worked a day in her life, had to work three jobs just to keep them afloat. They nearly lost the ranch. Daddy always says his proudest day was when he gave my grandmother the deed and made sure she never had to have a job again. He didn’t want my mother to have to work either. Or me.”

Dante raised an eyebrow at me. He knew how important my career was to me. “Your mother doesn’t object?”

“My mother says she’s found more happiness and satisfaction in volunteering than she ever did working, and so she’s on board with Daddy’s plan. But it’s not like some old-fashioned or sexist ‘women belong in the home’ sort of thing,” I explained. “It’s just that given his upbringing, he adores the women in his life and wants to take care of them.”

Which meant that I let my father down on a continual basis. He wanted to shelter and protect me, and I wanted to be out in the world, living my own life.

“So he expects your future husband to keep you barefoot and pregnant?”

I only barely refrained from rolling my eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“I don’t know if I can let you get married.”

I pressed my lips together, shocked by the turn in our conversation. What was that supposed to mean?

“Because you can’t possibly be planning to be named Lemon Brown. So plain and sad. I think ‘Her Royal Highness, Princess Lemon’ sounds so much better, don’t you?”

“You think Rafe would have me?” He laughed again, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He picked up a blade of grass and twirled it between his fingers. His very clever fingers that always managed to make me melt every time he touched me. “How did the two of you meet?”

I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, or if we were moving closer to each other. This happened a lot when I was with him. Like our bodies were two magnets that wanted to be together, no matter how hard I tried to resist.

“I’ve known him my whole life,” I said. Our mothers met in Lamaze class, which my momma only attended to humor Grandma Lemon. My momma says it’s stupid to give birth without drugs when the good Lord gave us medicine. Anyway, we grew up together, and he was the first boy I kissed. We were thirteen and chasing fireflies.” I half smiled at the memory.

“And then?”

“Then we were in high school and he wanted to do more than kiss and I wasn’t ready. So he ended things with me because there were plenty of other girls who were willing. Like Ellis Wetherly. It broke my heart.” I hoped I didn’t sound too bitter or sad. When Sterling broke up with me, he destroyed something inside of me. I was at an awkward age, feeling vulnerable, and when he did it, my soul hurt like fissures spreading across a mirror—small cracks that spread and widened until the whole surface was ruined.