Crown Jewels (Off-Limits Romance #1)(22)

I inhale slowly.

Back then, kings would kill a dissident.

In my memory, I hear gurgling. It makes my chest and head feel hot. I hear the bastard’s words. I see Bryce’s busted face. I clench my fingers. I wish I had killed him. I think of her curled over on her side, all that soft, soft hair around her, and my fingers sifting through it. I can hear her quiet voice through the phone. And Christ, I’m hard now. Now.

I chuckle, not a trace of humor in it.

I see Ain’s gaze in the rear-view mirror: there, then gone.

The buildings start to choke the road. The road widens. We cross a bridge and take a right, and wind up on an old stone road that runs along one of the city’s many veiny inlets. I can feel my back and shoulders tense. I can feel the old familiar tightness of my lungs.

Again, Ain’s eyes. I don’t know if I love him for that, or if I hate him.

A left down a short, one-way street, then a right into an alley. He stops where he always does, and I pick up the parcel in the floorboard. It feels soft in my hand, just a bundle wrapped in brown paper. I nod toward him and, without looking into his eyes, get out of the car and go into the gym through a dented steel door. My fingers know the password now without my eyes needing to look.

Inside, the speakers blast techno music. Far away, down several halls, I hear the clink of weights. A pretty blonde leans against the green wall of the hallway. She smiles as I walk her way, and when I’m within close distance, her hands reach out for me. She draws me close, as if we’re good friends.

She laughs. “Liam.”

I nod and smile for any cameras. “Dru.”

I hand her the package.

“Ah. How lovely of you.”

I nod.

She grins. “No messages this time. Keep at it. I suppose that’s all.”

I nod again, and keep my head held high, the way a royal should. And then I’m gone, with just a brief stop as I reach the steel door to the alley. Just one sip—no, two—of Everclear. After his esophageal cancer seven years ago, and the resulting radiation, Ain can’t smell it.

I swagger back into the alley, get into the car. Again, he looks at me. It’s more than what I normally get. I wonder why he seems to care more this time. Then I close my eyes and let the road noise and the buzzing in my veins take me away.





TEN Lucy





I manage to put my troubles out of my mind the first day Amelia is here. We get a pedicure, talking more about Am’s vegan experiment than my drama while we get our legs scrubbed and our toes painted. After that, we drive into the Rocky Mountain National Forest. It’s only a few miles from the ranch, and I have a year-long pass.

We flash my pass at the entry booth, meander through fields dotted by bighorn sheep, and wind our way up Trail Ridge Road, this super twisty strand of asphalt that goes all the way up to the really tall peaks. We roll our windows down so we can feel the air cool while Am talks about her internship at Imagine Luxe Animation Studios, a Pixar type of company that just got bought out by Disney.

The internship is super exclusive and amazing, taking intern artists and writers—or story crafters, as they call the writers—and pairing them with a writer or artist who works fulltime at Luxe or Disney. The intern/staffer duo have to create the first fourth of an animated film to pitch to company exces. It all sounds like a dream, and I’m so proud of Am, I’m not sure what seems “off” until we’ve made it back down the mountain and are walking around Sprague Lake.

“My partner? The artist?” Her eyes widen, then squeeze shut. “It’s Dash. Frasier.”

Dash, the older brother of our mutual friend Lexie. Dash and Lexie lived next door to Am. Due to some things that happened the summer Lexie, Am, and I were 16, Am’s history with Dash is complicated at best.

I can feel my jaw hit the floor. “Dash Frasier. Is your partner on the project.”

She nods frantically, like a mime.

I toss my head back with a low laugh before throwing my arms around her. “Amelia Frank! How dare you not tell me!”

She shoves me, laughing. “You had a secret crush on Prince Liam.”

“That’s different! Way different! Dash is such a bastard! Have you kicked him in the nuts yet?”

And so the afternoon and evening are all Dash. My God, she’s in deep, poor Amelia. She doesn’t tell me in so many words, and that’s the very biggest sign.

In a way, it’s nice to spend the rest of the day talking about Dash.

I toast her at dinner, winking. “At least I’m not the only one with a totally effed up love life.”

“No.” She sighs.

“Drink more wine, babe.”

And she does. I drive her home from the Italian restaurant, and she’s asleep within the hour. Good, I tell myself. She probably needed it. Sounds like Dash has been working her to death.

I get a long bath, then curl up on my bed with a book on my iPhone. I don’t recall falling asleep, so I’m confused when I wake up—lamp on, my phone in hand. The screen is flashing. I squint before I notice the weird number. Then my stomach bottoms out.

It’s Liam.

I hesitate a moment. Then I rasp, “Hello?”

I hear a low chuckle from him. “I should feel worse for this. For waking you up.”

“What time is it?” I ask, smiling against my pillow despite my nerves.