Royal Games (The Royals of Monterra) (4 page)

“Jealousy
is
a bad feeling.”

I could hear Nicole shifting forward in her seat behind us, trying to catch our conversation.

“It also shows that you still care,” Whitney continued. “Which you should, because you belong together. You were so ‘love at first awkward.’”

Whitney was right. It really had been love at first awkward. For me, anyway.

Well, not at very first.

My aunt Sylvia had been obsessed with
Marry Me
. I’d watched every season with her because it was her favorite show, and during a recent symptom relapse she’d gotten it into her head that I should audition. I think because she was sick and convinced of her own mortality, she thought the best way to make sure that I was taken care of after she was gone was for me to get married. I couldn’t figure out why that was her plan considering how disastrously her own marriage had ended. He had bankrupted us.

But she’d stuck to her totally unreasonable goal. Given my aunt’s tough, no-nonsense personality, it would probably surprise most of the town if they ever discovered what a romantic she was, and how much she lived for romantic movies, shows, and books. She was certain that I would find my true love and future husband on
Marry Me
. Which was silly because no one on those shows actually ended up married. But to humor her, I sent in a video of myself. I had zero expectation of getting chosen and had honestly forgotten all about it.

Nobody was more surprised than me when the show called to say that they were considering me. They flew me out to California to audition, which was my first time on a plane. I went through so many different rounds, and at each stage of the interview process I expected to be sent home.

I had met some of the other possible candidates, and I was nothing like any of them. I didn’t belong. I didn’t wear makeup, and every woman there looked like she’d just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine.

Then they chose me. Me. Genesis Kelley from Iowa. I was sure I’d just be filler, one of those girls who would show up in the beginning and get sent home the first night.

And while I expected that outcome, it surprised me to discover that I didn’t want to be sent home. I had sought comfort in routine and familiarity, but when I went to California, my life back home suddenly felt stifling. Too predictable. I wanted something more. An exciting once-in-a-lifetime experience I would never forget.

Part of it might have been deliberate. I’d spent so much time hiding, so this was like some kind of delayed adolescent rebellion. I’d put myself out there in the most public way possible, like I was daring John-Paul to do something about it. That false bravado didn’t last long.

The show gave us hair and makeup artists for the night, and I spent more time than I’d like to admit getting beautified. The wardrobe stylist pulled a dark green dress for me that was floor length. It had princess cap sleeves and sparkles all over the skirt. I wanted to ask where they’d found a dress so long (I’d never actually been able to find a skirt or a dress that went all the way to the floor), but I didn’t get a chance before they zipped me in and stuffed me in a limo.

I waited in a long line behind other limos and watched from a distance as one girl after another climbed out, walked up the driveway of the famous
Marry Me
mansion, and met the suitor.

As I got closer, I realized that he was easily the most handsome man I’d ever seen. He was so exotic looking. My stomach started doing queasy flips.

It was almost my turn. I saw the girl in front of me get out of her limo. She was wearing jeans and a baseball jersey. His whole face lit up when he saw her, and even though I couldn’t really see her expression, her body language said that she was just as excited to meet him. I knew then and there that she was the girl who would win. She walked away, and he watched her go all the way up to the house.

What possible chance did I have after that? It was a little like having to go on stage after the headlining act has finished for the night. Nobody was there to see me.

But turning around and going back to the hotel was not an option.

So I took a deep breath, pasted on a smile, and got out of the car.

Chapter 4

I did not trip over my skirt or slip in the ridiculous shoes, and I was pleased to see that he was several inches taller than me, despite the heels. He was even better looking up close.

He reached out his right hand. “Hello, I’m Dante.”

“I’m Genesis.” I nearly glanced at the camera crew standing to one side. Was I supposed to say my last name? I couldn’t remember.

I took his hand and felt . . . nothing. I had hoped there would be more of a chemical thing between us, but nothing happened. Objectively he was handsome, but I wasn’t feeling any kind of spark. I hoped my disappointment didn’t show on my face.

“Genesis, it is an honor to meet you.”

“You too. Thanks for having me.”

He raised one eyebrow, and I realized how that might have sounded. A warm flush spread through my cheeks. “I mean, you’re not
having
having me. You know, like physically or anything. Not that I was thinking that you were thinking that, I’m not trying to put words in your mouth. Or thoughts in your head. I just realized how it sounded and I . . .” I trailed off, looking at the cameras. I couldn’t help it.

I swung my gaze back to him. I sighed. There was no way out of the hole I’d just dug for myself. “Never mind. I talk a lot when I get nervous. And this is definitely nerve-racking.”

His eyes twinkled at me, and I could tell he was fighting off a smile. “Don’t worry. I understand completely. I hope we’ll have a chance to talk later.”

Thankful that he’d given me an out, I walked to the house as quickly as I could. Part of me wanted to run into a corner and hide, but just inside the house I found the girl who had gone before me. That was when I met Lemon. I introduced myself and told her that I had seen the chemistry between her and Dante, though she brushed that off. That seemed strange to me. Any other girl probably would have been thrilled to talk about how the man they were here to marry liked them right away.

We socialized, met some of the other girls, and bonded over the insanity of our situation and the fact that so many of the other contestants were out of their minds. Every time I thought we had reached the bottom of their crazy, we discovered their crazy underground garage.

Their consumption of all the available alcohol did not help.

Being in full possession of all my mental faculties was apparently going to be another strike against me. I wasn’t in the mood to be judged or to fight my way through the crowd in an attempt to get close to him.

I accepted my fate of being sent home that night, and I decided to explore the estate so that I could give Aunt Sylvia a full report. It seemed so much smaller in person than it appeared on television. None of the crew followed me, apparently deciding, as Dante had, that I wasn’t worth investing any time in. I went out the front door, making my way carefully over the cobblestone driveway. I walked toward the north side of the house, and I thought I detected the homey smell of hay and horses.

I missed my horse Marigold so much it hurt. She was a lovely chestnut American Saddlebred who was entirely too vain and lazy to be of much use around the farm. But I had adored her. I had helped deliver her ten years ago with our local vet, Dr. Pavich, and it’s what made me decide to become a veterinarian myself. I loved animals and thought I could be very happy spending my life taking care of them.

But when our financial crisis struck, Marigold had to be sold. There was no choice. We couldn’t afford to keep her. It had been the second-saddest day of my life.

The scent got stronger, and I could see the barn through the tall fence in front of it. It had to be about eight or nine feet, made out of patterned wrought iron. I tugged at the gate, but it was locked. There was a row of decorative spiky arrowheads all along the top. I knew that I should probably go back to the party. But if there were horses in that barn, I would much rather spend the evening with them than the women back at the mansion.

I checked behind me to make sure that I was still alone, and then I hiked up my skirt. I grabbed the metal bars and started to climb. This did not turn out to be as easy as you might expect in high heels and formal wear. The soles were so slippery. I considered kicking them off but was worried I might hurt my feet.

That decision turned out to be a huge mistake. I got toward the top, grabbing a couple of the arrowheads to pull myself up. I threw my left leg up to go over, and my right foot gave way underneath me. I yelped as my foot slipped and I started to fall.

Some of my skirt caught on one of the arrowheads and abruptly stopped me from falling. I was hanging awkwardly, holding the top of the fence, my legs dangling and my skirt caught on the top of the fence. Both of my shoes slid off my feet and dropped to the ground.

It was so ridiculous I had to laugh. I was trying to figure out how to get down, but I couldn’t stop laughing. This was
so
something that I would do. I wasn’t particularly accident prone, but I was very good at finding ways to embarrass myself.

I tugged a few times at my skirt, still giggling. It wouldn’t come loose. I had to give mad respect to the designer, because this thing was sturdy. I worried about ripping the dress completely. It didn’t belong to me. Would the show charge me if I came back with the skirt all shredded? I could possibly fix or explain one hole, but an irreparable tear was a different story.

Then I tried pulling my legs up higher, but I wasn’t strong enough. I was so stuck. I laughed again.

“May I be of assistance?”

I looked over my shoulder to see Dante standing there. He had undone his bow tie and the first few buttons on his tuxedo shirt. He seemed both amused and concerned.

“Yes, I could definitely use some help.”

He took off his jacket and scaled the fence much more easily than I had. I hoped I wasn’t flashing him, but he didn’t even look. He easily lifted the dress up, with me still in it, over the spikes. He used just one hand. I couldn’t help but be impressed. Finally free, I regained my footing. The iron felt cold and rough against my feet.

“Thank you!” I said. He had possibly just saved me thousands of dollars.

“My pleasure,” he said. There was a heat in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed earlier. It made my skin tingle with delight.

“Race you down?” I asked. He smiled, and my heart sped up in response to it. He had a breathtaking smile.

“What do I get when I beat you?”

“What makes you think you’ll beat me?” I said, trying not to laugh again. Something about him made me feel even happier than normal.

His response was to scale down a few feet and then jump the rest of the way. “That’s what makes me think I’ll beat you.”

“Cheating?” I responded.

“It’s not cheating. Just superior climbing skills.”

“When you save a damsel in distress, you’re not supposed to leave her behind,” I teased him.

He put his hands back on the bars, obviously intending to climb back up.

“No!” I called down to him. “I was kidding.” I tried not to laugh, seeing the annoyed expression on his face. He seemed to take the jab at his honor very seriously.

I carefully climbed back down, and he stood respectfully off to one side, but still within arm’s reach to catch me if I fell. It wasn’t necessary, but it was sweet. When I got down I grabbed my heels and held on to the fence while I slipped them back on. I inspected the new hole in my dress. I had a small sewing kit in my suitcase. “Maybe I can stitch it up without them noticing,” I murmured.

When I glanced up at Dante, I realized that he was studying me with a serious look in his eyes. There was a sadness there that I hadn’t noticed earlier. It made me want to hug him and make everything better. “You were laughing.”

“What?” I laughed a lot. That wasn’t very descriptive, so I tried to clarify. “When?”

“When I found you. You were laughing.” He said this like it confused him and he didn’t understand.

I shrugged. “I was laughing because it was funny. You have to admit that what just happened was pretty funny.”

A smile played at the edge of his lips. “It was, but I’m too much of a gentleman to say so.”

That made me want to laugh again, but I just grinned at him instead.

“Is this situation so terrible that you were trying to escape?” He gestured toward the fence.

“My mom always used to say you can’t fight the moonlight. That being outside under a full moon makes you do things like scale fences because you thought you smelled horses. I’ll let you in on a little secret.” I leaned forward, and he did the same. I was struck by how distinctive and tempting his cologne was. “Sometimes I like horses better than people.”

“Sometimes I do too,” he said in a whispery voice that made little thrill bumps pop up all over my exposed flesh. “But there aren’t any horses here, which is why the gate was locked.”

“Oh.” That was disappointing. “I was kind of hoping I’d get to go riding. I haven’t done it in a long time.”

Then my stomach rumbled so loudly that there was no way for either of us to pretend it hadn’t happened. I laughed again, and this time he joined me.

“Hungry?”

“Very. But I’m not willing to face the horde of raving lunatics inside to forage for food.”

He reached inside of his tuxedo jacket, which he’d put back on after he climbed down. He brought out something wrapped up in napkins, and opened the wrapping to reveal two large chocolate chip cookies. He offered them to me.

I took one, leaving the other for him. “So, you always walk around with cookies in your pocket just in case?”

“You never know what kind of distress a damsel will be in,” he said, winking at me. “It’s partly out of habit. I have a younger sister with a sweet tooth, and I always grab extra for her. But I took them because the crew seem determined that no one’s going to eat tonight.”

The cookie was heavenly. Soft and chewy with just the right number of chocolate chips. I swallowed my bite. “The girls can’t get as drunk if there’s food to absorb some of that alcohol.”

“You’re not drunk.”

“I had a super strict upbringing,” I said, not sure how much I should tell him. “And the guy in charge believed in purity of mind, soul, and especially body. So no alcohol, no sugar, no processed foods, no drugs. I didn’t even have cake until I was fifteen and at a birthday party.” It was one of my fondest memories, and to this day that was the best slice of cake I’d ever had.

“That sounds like cruel and unusual punishment.”

“You don’t miss what you’ve never had.” I held the remaining cookie up. “But once you find out how delicious it is . . . well, that’s why I’m a dessert junkie now.”

“So you’ve defiled yourself with sugar,” he said with a mocking sad face that made me giggle. “‘Guy in charge’? Your father?”

“No.” Not my father. My almost husband. But that was a can of crazy I wasn’t willing to pop open yet.

He picked up on my cue and changed the subject. “I’ll have to feed you some Monterran desserts. Those are decadence on a plate.”

The idea of him feeding me anything made my stomach spin. “Monterra? Is that the city you’re from? What country is that in?” There was a slight European accent to his voice, but I couldn’t place it. Not that I’d met a lot of Europeans or anything.

“Someplace you’ve never heard of,” he said. Now I was the one picking up his reluctant cues, but it seemed strange. It was a pretty basic question. Like when you met someone in college for the first time it was always hi, where are you from, what’s your major? Not hard.

I filed that bit of information away. Monterra. Maybe there was a computer inside the house and I could look it up.

“You really listen. I feel like I want to tell you things.” I probably should have thought before I spoke, but it was honest and I didn’t regret it.

“Oh?”

“And not in that way guys do where they only listen to you because they want to, um, take things further. Like it’s their reward for putting up with your jabbering.” There was a slight ocean breeze, and my skin broke out in tiny bumps. It wasn’t cold. I was pretty sure this was all due to him. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms.

He noticed and took off his jacket again. This time he placed it over my shoulders. It was so old-fashioned and thoughtful that the bumps turned into mountains. I thanked him. It was still warm from his body, and it smelled of him. I slid my arms into the sleeves, letting the delicious warmth envelop me.

“And you don’t reward them?”

He was either a good guesser or I somehow radiated my virginity. I wasn’t embarrassed by it. So many other girls came on this show as virgins, and it got turned into this major plot point. The ones who just told the guy up front made it not a big deal. And it wasn’t.

“That purity extended to relationships. I may indulge in sugar, but I’m waiting for the right guy and the right time.”

There was a slight moment of surprise, followed by a big self-deprecating grin. “What?” I asked.

“Let’s just say that I gave my oldest brother a hard time about something, and he’s going to enjoy some payback.”

I wondered if I could hijack his jacket and take it back to my room tonight. I could sleep in it, surrounded by the scent of his amazing cologne. I understood the general patheticness of that desire, but I didn’t care. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

He looked uncomfortable for a moment before he responded. “Three sisters, two brothers, and a brother who died when I was young.”

I put my hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. I lost my mom when I was thirteen.”

He put his hand on top of mine, and I tried not to shiver. “Now I’m the one who is sorry.”

We stood there for a moment, and I realized that he was watching my lips. Would he kiss me? Did I want him to? I mean, I did not want to be one of those girls who was making out with the eligible bachelor on the first night. I’d never had a very high opinion of those women.

But I suddenly appreciated why they’d done it.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Wow. That just got super depressing super fast, didn’t it? We should probably head back.”