Thorne Princess(57)

“You belong nowhere,” I interjected. “You have three friends in L.A. Two of which probably cannot spell your name. It is too big, too crowded, and the paps would love to have your head on a platter. Texas may not suit your lifestyle, but it’ll keep you away from temptations and potential news coverage. You’ll be staying here, doing some volunteer work, getting to know the area. I’ve already set it up.”

“Thank you, Ransom.” Anthony winked. “Now, this is what I call money well spent.”

Brat stared me down. Though words didn’t pass her lips, her eyes screamed volumes.

I wasn’t letting her put herself in danger in Los Angeles. Even if I was the one responsible for this unfortunate predicament.

“I’m not staying here a minute past the rehearsal dinner,” she announced.

“Careful now, Miss Thorne, or your parents won’t be able to see the staggering progress you’ve made.” I smirked at her.

Our plates cleared out. Servants came out of the kitchen with Bananarchy, ice cream sandwiches, and an unholy amount of cake, lining shiny silver spoons on fresh napkins.

“Random, please.” I saw the exact moment when she lost her fight and tried to appeal to my conscience, knowing damn well mine was working only ten percent of the time. “Just once, let me have my way.”

I swallowed. Amazingly, my feelings were not as flatlined as they usually were. I hated doing this to her. And I hated she didn’t deserve this.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, meaning it. “It’s settled.”

She hung her head low between her shoulders.

We left shortly after dessert.





My face was buried in my pillow the next morning when I heard the door to my room click open. Heavy, confident footsteps pressed along my carpeted floor.

“You lucked out.”

Even without seeing him, I could envision him, draped like a mythological deity against a heavy piece of furniture, his destructive beauty almost baiting me to pick a fight.

I burrowed deeper into my pillow, wondering if I could suffocate this way. Surely, I wasn’t that lucky. Besides, I knew other ways to take my life. Less painful ones. A bullet to the skull, maybe. Though honestly, I didn’t trust my aim. Maybe Ransom could do it? Ha. He would save me just to spite me. The bastard.

I didn’t want to see Craig and Hera today. I really, really didn’t want to see them.

“Earth to Brat, you listening?” I heard Ransom push off whatever he was leaning against and walk toward me. “I said I’ve some good news.”

“Deliver it and be gone,” I murmured into my pillow.

“The rehearsal dinner is postponed. Your sister’s fiancé’s grandfather is in the ICU. They’re shelving the dinner to just before the wedding.”

I rolled over onto my back, staring at the ceiling. The relief I was expecting didn’t come. Instead, dread gathered in the pit of my stomach, like debris.

It was like prolonging an open-heart surgery. Sans the anesthesia.

“Is he going to die?” A voice croaked, and I realized, belatedly, that it was coming from me.

“Who?” Ransom asked, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Actually, never mind. The answer is yes, either way. If you mean the grandpa, then probably in the next few days. If you mean the fiancé, I’d give the guy a few more decades before he kicks the bucket.”

“Shame.”

“You don’t like him?” He peered into my face. I was too lethargic to look back.

“He’s literally perfect.”

“Sounds appalling,” Ransom offered.

“My family loves him. They treat him like their son.”

He raised his hand. He was holding a stack of papers. That’s when my eyes shifted from the ceiling, studying him with a mixture of dread and curiosity.

“What now? My parents want to sign me out of the will?”

“Don’t think they’ll need your permission to do that. But they did send your bridesmaid’s speech for you to memorize.” He flung it in my lap. I didn’t touch it. I turned my head toward the window, watching two birds landing on a tree branch at the same time, tweeting at each other.

I want to be you.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to write it?” I sulked.

“Good morning. The year is 2026 and your family is overbearing. Also, Michael Jackson is dead, and we still haven’t found a cure for cancer.”

“They don’t trust me with anything.” I tossed my arm over my eyes. An acute pain clawed into my chest. The prospect of drawing a breath felt unbearable.

“That’s not true. I’m sure they trust you to mess things up. Hence the bridesmaid’s speech.”

“Can you stop being an ass, just for one moment?”

“Probably not,” he said neutrally. “But I’ll give it a shot.”

After he realized I wasn’t going to answer him, he asked, “What’s on today’s agenda, Princess?”

I scrambled upright, my back pressed against the headboard. “I guess I’m going to try my best to make your life a living hell and embarrass my family. You know, the usual stuff.”

He reached for the blanket, tapping my knee twice. As soon as his hand met with my leg, a shot of thrill ran through me, injecting me with energy and life. It was the first time he’d touched me. Willingly, anyway. Gently. Not to remove me out of a place or to drag me into my room. It seemed important, and not accidental, and maybe I was crazy, but also a little intimate. I had a feeling he wanted to make me feel better and didn’t know how. And Ransom never wanted to make anyone feel better.