Chapter 7
Leah
The front door opens to a chorus of muffled voices. I freeze, then shake my head and finish washing the big mixing bowl I used. The muffins are almost done. They’re cranberry and chocolate chip. I love breakfast foods that are secretly dessert.
Royal spent the first half of the baking session lounging in the doorway, watching me with a half-lidded eyes. He looked so smug, I had to ask, “These baking things… did you buy them for me? Like the clothes?”
“Yes.”
“It’s too much.”
He sauntered closer and cupped my face, ignoring the flour puffing around us. “Nothing is enough for my wife.”
Then he kissed me and my brain short-circuited. I managed to order him out of the kitchen to give me a few blissful minutes to myself.
Now I’m about to meet Royal’s cousin, and I’m covered in flour. Oh well. I might as well embrace who I am. I can’t be anyone else.
The voices round the hall and a brunette with sleek, straight hair and wearing a black pantsuit walks in, followed by Royal. I feel short and shabby in my sugar-dusted outfit.
Lula is more beautiful in person, dark and striking like Royal. She could be his sister.
“So you’re Leah,” she says, looking me up and down.
Her expression is inscrutable, and I don’t know what she’s thinking.
“I’m his cousin,” she explains, although I’m sure Royal’s already told her that I know who she is.
“Royal has a lot of cousins.” The two of them exchange a look, and I can’t tell if there’s some secret meaning there, or an old joke.
“Okay,” I say, trying not to sound as awkward as I feel.
“It’s good to meet you.” She sets down her slim leather briefcase. The Prada stamp is visible on the corner of it. That’s a five thousand dollar briefcase. My brain blue screens.
Lula is offering me her hand. I grab it, my wet fingers sliding against her perfectly manicured ones.
“Oh sorry, I was just washing up.” I get a dish towel and hand it to her. I use too much force and it flies out of my grip and nearly hits her in the face. “Oh my god, I’m sorry!”
“That’s okay.” Her dark eyes twinkle. “She cooks and cleans?” Lula raises a brow at her cousin.
“Only if she wishes.” Royal crosses to my side and takes my left hand. His expression goes scarily blank.
“It’s on the windowsill,” I blurt. “I didn’t want to lose it while washing dishes.” The ring probably costs more than a year of Mr. Rossi’s rent.
Royal collects the ring and takes my hand to slide it firmly onto my finger. “This stays on your finger,” he murmurs. “Understand?”
“Once again, you didn’t ask me,” I tease, fluttering my fingers. The ring feels right on my hand. It’s so pretty. I’m ignoring the little fact that it contains a tracking device—for now.
“Leah,” Royal warns. His thumb strokes over my wrist.
“I understand. No more washing dishes. That’ll be your job.” I bump him with my hip.
“That can be arranged. I’m good at making things clean.” After I make things dirty, his dark gaze adds.
Behind us, Lula clears her throat. I step back from the cocoon of warmth Royal and I created, my cheeks flushed from our flirting.
Lula holds up her phone. “Hey, cuz, Enzo’s trying to reach you.”
Royal pulls his own phone out of his pocket. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll stay and get to know Leah,” Lula says.
Royal runs a finger over my breastbone, swiping up sugar. He holds my gaze as he licks his finger. “Sweet.”
I shiver.
“Be good,” he warns, and stalks from the kitchen.
“Well, well.” Lula fans herself. “That was unexpected.” There’s a real smile on her face. My heartrate slows. Somewhat. A little bit.
She leans on the marble island. “I’ve never known him to be so romantic.”
“Really?” I wrinkle my nose, even though internally, I'm freaking out. “He’s the most romantic guy I know.”
“Maybe with you.”
I don’t know how to handle that, so I grab a drying pan and wipe it down with a dishrag.
“How did you two meet?” Lula asks.
“I served him coffee. Um, a few days ago.”
The oven buzzer sounds and I busy myself taking out the trays and setting out the muffins on racks to cool. Lula watches with narrowed eyes. Is she judging me? Or is she just thinking?
I set a muffin on a small plate. The chocolate and dried cranberry mixture turned out well. “Do you want one?”
“Absolutely.” She wastes no time tearing off the paper liner and breaking the muffin open, cooing at the delicious steam. “This is amazing. I didn’t know Royal had anything other than takeout menus in this kitchen.”
“He said he bought the stuff for me.” Of course he did. He’s not the type to have muffin tins lying around.
“Oh my god, that’s good,” Lula moans. “No wonder Royal wants to marry you.”
“You know about that?”
“It’s kind of obvious.” She nods to the giant diamond on my finger. “That, and the way he looks at you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone.”
“Really?” I lean on the island, picking at my own muffin, hungry for nothing but details about Royal. “I’d think women would be all over him.”
“They are,” Lula says with her mouth full.
She can’t seem to eat her muffin fast enough, and that relaxes me even more. I can get along with anyone who likes my food.
“My cousin doesn’t pay attention. He doesn’t date. He barely notices women.” She stabs the air with a manicured finger. “I take that back. There was someone he mentioned. Someone he met at a coffee shop.”
“Oh?” I try to keep my voice casual, but the blood is roaring in my ears.
“Yeah. A girl who helped him last year’s Valentine's Day. Her boyfriend had just broken up with her but she saw Royal was bleeding and bandaged his hands.” Lula tilts her head. “Was that you?”
I lick my lips. Dumped before Valentine’s Day? Sounds like me. But wouldn’t I remember helping someone like Royal? “I don't know. I don't remember.”
“Hmm.” Lula pouts at her empty plate and picks at the remaining crumbs. “Must have been some other panetteria. Anyway,” she dusts off her hands, seemingly unaware of the bomb she’s dropped on my head, “I’m glad he found you.”
“I don't know what's going on,” I blurt. “I just met him a few days ago and now… he says he’s going to marry me?”
“I'd believe him.” Lula’s poking around the kitchen. She opens a tin and fishes out one of the cookies I baked last night. “He's already booked the church.”
I crumple a dish towel in my hands. “I'm waiting for him to tell me this is all a misunderstanding.”
Lula takes a bite of the cookie. Her lashes flutter rapidly.
“Wow, that's good,” she mutters. She points the remaining cookie at me.
“I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.
Once Royal gets an idea into his head, he doesn't tend to let it go.
He's always been like that, ever since he was a child. Drove his father crazy,” she adds in a mutter.
“Did you grow up with him?”
“No, we were together a lot when we were young, but then his dad shipped him off to the Old Country. He grew up with my aunt. She raised him. Uncle Vinnie—that’s Royal’s dad—swore he'd never let Royal run the family, but Auntie B pulls more strings from across the pond than Uncle Vinnie would like.” Lula tilts her head, like she’s dispensing a secret.
“She doesn't get along with her brother. Between you and me, not many of us are fans of Uncle Vinnie, but he’s the boss so we all toe the line. Except for Royal.”
“Oh,” I murmur, because what else can I say?
Lula crunches on the last of the cookie. “I don't know what he's planning but you're a part of it.”
I gulp. I wanted more information, and I got it. But now I’m sorry I did. I expected a sip of water and got a blast from a firehose.
“Doesn't Royal need a woman who's more…” I stop because I don't know what I'm going to say. More suited to the role of his wife? More beautiful or knowledgeable about his life?
“More what?” Lula’s eyes soften, but Royal returns, strolling back into the kitchen and standing between us.
“It's time,” he says and holds a hand. And even though I have no idea what’s going on, what this beautiful man is about or why he’s so set on making me his, I walk to him and put my hand in his.
Lula follows us to his office, a quiet smile on her face. Together, their height is intimidating. They’re two tall bookends and I’m the bedraggled kitten between them. One of these things is not like the others. One of these things doesn’t belong.
Royal settles me in his huge desk chair. He takes my hand, checking for the ring. He runs a thumb over the jewel. “Did you and Lula have a good chat?”
“Yes?”
The two of them chuckle at my hesitation.
“So, Leah, in addition to being Royal’s cousin, I’m also the family lawyer.” Lula has her briefcase back in hand. She pulls a packet of papers out. “I drew up the papers you requested, we just need to sign them.”
“I can go,” I say, trying not to look too eager to get out of here, and appear like I’m jumping at reasons to bail.
“Un momento, Leah,” Royal says. “We will need your witness and signature.”
I huff under my breath—foiled—and look around the room while he sits and signs paper after paper. There’s a thick stack of it, creamy-white and plush. I glance around the room, trying to act casual.
“Leah,” Royal calls and pushes it towards me. “Now your signature.”
“Do I want to know what I'm signing?” I mutter as I sign and initial the places Lula points out with her blood-red nails.
“My last will and testament,” Royal says, off-hand.
“What?” My pen pauses, but I’ve already signed the last spot. “Am I witness?” I blink at him.
“No. You’re my heir.”
“What?” I shriek, and the pen drops from my ice-cold fingers. It thumps on the desk-top, and rolls before falling right off of the desk onto the floor.
Lula’s already bundled the papers and stacked them neatly—oblivious, or politely ignoring my outburst. I gape at Royal.
“What—“
The study door opens and an older man bursts in. “I see I’m too late to stop this nonsense.”