Thayer
Ilanded an hour before them. His Royal Assness didn't think it through when he messaged me.
Or rather, he probably did, expecting me not to come.
Like I would tell him to take Emily to meet his family without me?
Her trio of idiots really are trying to get her killed, and me too.
If my dad figures out she's not pregnant and this is all staged to keep her safe?
There's nothing that would keep either of us safe.
He's vindictive, and my being his son will mean nothing.
I can't let it happen to Emily. Or Darius.
Once I'm out of the way, James will find a way to lure my brother into his web.
I've worked long and hard to keep him out of my father’s claws.
My hired car sits a couple of blocks away from the castle.
Holloway’s text says they're almost there.
But I'm not going to go in and say hi to the king and queen without their son.
They have me in a box labeled "trouble." It's the correct label. Though most of the time it was Damien Oliver George Arthur Whitehall causing the problems. Fuck, the last time I was here was Christmas our senior year. Oliver drove his McLaren through the castle courtyard and took out a prized tree. A gift from another country. My lips curve, because his Aunt Becks was the only one to see it. She had been watching the moon rise when we tore around the yard, mostly on a sidewalk. At the crack of dawn, she woke us up and made us buy a new tree at the local nursery. She’d arranged for it to open early. How, I have no idea. Had us plant it ourselves too. Somehow the press didn’t find out. I can only hope that’s the case today.
That they get off the plane with no sign of paparazzi.
My phone buzzes on the seat next to me.
H
Almost there, boss. Three black limos, they’re aware of you. Emily is in the second car. Pull in behind the third.
Driver is aware, but not Emily. Or the others.
H
Correct, just as you asked.
It’s hard not to smile at my phone. I click over to my texts with Oliver from this morning. I added his number to how he was saved in my phone from college. I should change it, I suppose, but it reminds me of who he really is.
Fuckboy
I’m taking your fiancée for her doctor-ordered sun.
No.
Fuckboy
That wasn’t a question.
She’s my pregnant fiancée and no.
Fuckboy
Sutton wants to meet her.
Sutton is coming to the Joneses' party at the end of the month.
Fuckboy
That’s later. This is now.
No.
Fuckboy
We’re on our way.
Make sure you fly and keep out of the press.
Fuckboy
Yes, Daddy.
I rolled my eyes. What the hell are they doing to me? Ten minutes later, I was on my way to the airport with a good two-hour head start on them. God bless London traffic.
"There will be three—that’s them now. Follow those cars through the palace gate," I say to the driver.
He pulls out. The windows are tinted on their cars and mine. They’ll get the surprise in a minute.
Be on your best behavior.
Emily
Of course. Is it raining in London?
I have no idea.
Emily
Don’t work too late.
I stare down at my phone, a little piece of domestic bliss. If it were real. If I had a phone James could tap, this would be just the sort of thing I’d want him to see. But switching to a less secure phone would set James onto our ruse for sure.
The cars stop on the crushed gravel. There’re small differences from the last time I was here. Bright blue and white banners hang from the side columns, and large topiaries flank the stairs.
I’m out of the car before the driver can get my door and over to the second car. A doorman has his white-gloved hand on the chrome handle.
Oliver’s out first. His eyes hold mine. There’s a slight smirk on his lips. He turns back to the car, offering his hand to Emily. "You have an unexpected guest, Emily."
"What? Who?" she asks.
Oliver helps her out and places her hand in mine, like we’d rehearsed it, before stepping out of the way.
"Thayer?" Her voice shoots up. "Thayer." Her suddenly calm voice flows over me, and she wraps her hands around my neck. "You made it. I didn’t think you were going to be able to come." She pretends with expertise.
"I finished up with work early and was able to get here."
Her blue eyes flick to the car I stepped out of, and she hides the wheels grinding, figuring out how I got here at the same time as them. I wrap my left arm around her waist and lean in, planting a kiss on the side of her cheek.
Ryder and Anders come from the other side of the car. Anders is staring, but Ryder shakes my hand. "Glad you could make it."
"Of course, anything for Emily’s birthday.
" The setting sun glints on a necklace around Emily’s neck.
My gut tightens. Emily doesn’t wear jewelry, but she’s wearing something now.
"This is pretty." I reach to touch the side of the firefly pendant.
Her eyes flare at me, but the actress in her keeps her body from tensing.
"It is." She smiles and takes my hand, turning to the courtyard like a pro.
Oliver’s sister Sutton stands on the top stair.
She cocks her head to the side and gives me a wave.
Her other hand moves from her small belly to her hip.
Oliver once told me that if I touched either of his sisters, it wouldn’t be the royal guard I would need to worry about.
He’s an ass, but he loves his sisters. There’s a twinkle in her eyes that makes me wonder what she knows.
I nod at her. Her eyes flicking from me to Oliver and back to Emily have my suspicions up; Sutton knows something.
There are red flags poking at me. Unfurling around me.
Sutton Whitehall is brilliant. She's the kind of older sister that those with older sisters complain about.
Perfect. I never had an older sister or brother, but I can only imagine that if James had any offspring like Sutton, he would rub it in my face every chance he got.
She went to the best boarding schools and universities, not because she's the heir to a monarchy but because of her own achievements.
She was ranked number one in archery and could've gone to the Olympics if there hadn't been a security scare. I can only imagine if Emily’s brother Easton had met her then.
Perhaps none of this would've happened. My blood boils, imagining being invited to my best mate's wedding and finding out that my high school girlfriend was his bride.
Havenwood Hall looks like a cottage compared to the castle of Winterborn Palace. Though it has its comparison to my home in England. Oliver was one of the few friends who discovered the hidden passageways in Havenwood Hall. Winterborn has them as well.
An eternity later, we arrive at the other side of the courtyard. Several castle staffers flank Sutton.
"Welcome to Winterborn. It's nice to see you again, Thayer. This must be Emily. I've heard so much about you." Sutton meets us at the bottom step and kisses both of Emily's cheeks before doing the same to me. "Please come in." She motions to the front door. "Brother," she says, behind us.
"Ow," Oliver says.
I don’t need to turn around to know that Sutton has pinched Oliver's cheek. "Don't be a baby." She laughs.
"What would Ms. Fritz say?" Drunk Oliver has told me stories about their manners tutor.
"She'd say you deserved it."
"I've already apologized."
"You didn't introduce your other friends," Sutton sings.
"I'm Ryder Dempsey, and this is Anders Thompson."
“You were on the boat with Damien," says Sutton.
"Yes. And it's a pleasure to meet you."
"You can't be Damien's friends; you have manners," Sutton says at the top step. "Please forgive me, Emily. I didn't mean you."
"None taken." Emily laughs.
The doors to the castle open as Sutton approaches. And there's a certain sense that rolls over us like honey and cinnamon wrapped in wealth. Sutton links her arm with Oliver's. "It's good to have you home again, brother, and so soon. Mother and Father will expect to have you around all the time."
"Yes, well, they'll have to turn that expectation off."
Unlike Havenwood Hall, Winterborn Palace opens onto a great foyer, four stories tall. There's a massive collection of portraits on the opposing wall, mostly of Oliver's relatives from the last 500 years.
"Whoa." Emily stops in her tracks. This is a lot to take in. "I can't believe you grew up here, Oliver—excuse me, Damien."
"No worries, Emily. We all know of Damien's dislike of his first name. It's just something that the king and queen insist upon. As far as that goes, you should call me Georgina when the king and queen are in the room."
Emily's head snaps to Oliver. "I didn't realize we'd be meeting your parents."
"No worries, Emily, they'll love you," Oliver says, throwing his arm over Emily's other shoulder. I glare at his hand, and he pulls it back with a smirk on his face.
Sutton's head snaps between Oliver and me, her forehead frozen. We can’t let her know for certain that our engagement isn't the real deal.
It's one of the reasons I knew I had to come.
But grabbing Emily by the back of her head and kissing her until I dip her won't convince someone with Sutton's smarts.
No, the plot of this play must be carefully scripted.
"I know that Emily is going to love a tour of the castle. But it was a long trip, and I'm sure she'd like to freshen up," I say, my eyes glued to Sutton.
"Of course," Emily says.
"You're up here," Sutton says. "I can take them, Margareta." Sutton nods to the young staff worker, who looks mortified that the queen-to-be is acting as an escort.
She inclines her head. "Thank you, ma’am."
"This way. Oliver asked for you all to be in our family guest rooms."
"Oh, we don't want to intrude." Emily places her splayed hand on her chest.
"You’re not; the family area is much more private. You'll be comfortable there. And we have a lot of rooms. It's not a burden at all." Sutton smiles at Emily, but her eyes narrow when she focuses on me.
"Well, thank you." Emily returns Sutton’s smile.
Sutton leads the way up a flight of stone stairs that make Havenwood Hall look like a modern Marriott and down a corridor to a large oak door. She punches a code into a modern lock that doesn't match the rest of the space.
"Your code is 0625," Sutton says with a smile.
"Today's date—that's easy to remember." I raise my eyebrows. Having the code be the date doesn't seem secure.
"My birthday, honey." Emily squeezes my arm.
"Right." I swallow.
"It was nice of you to share your fiancée with us."
"Indeed." I smile at Emily.
Beyond the door lies another grand hallway. Oliver, Anders, and Ryder trail behind us, followed by Holloway and several of what must be Sutton's guards.
"You're here." Sutton stops at a door.
"Here? Why don't you put them in the Sapphire Suite?" Oliver places his hand on a plaque that reads "Bronze Suite."
"Because that's not the one Margareta has gotten ready." Sutton smiles and places her hand on the doorknob.
"But the Sapphire Suite faces the garden." Oliver’s eyebrows shoot up.
"Wherever is good. Thank you, Georgina," Emily says.
Sutton's lips curve to the side in a silent, Your move, Ollie.
Oliver bows his head resolutely. And Sutton laughs. "I thought so. Actually, Margareta told me to put them in the Sapphire Suite. I just wondered if you would make a fuss." Sutton wiggles her eyebrows.
"You." Oliver narrows his eyes, but there's no spite in them.
"You, you need to be careful. Though if you want to take the heat away from me? I don't mind."