Chapter 1
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Gloriously unprepared.
Clara
Surprising zero people, I did not sleep last night. I kept thinking about the giant man in the same tour bus with me, sleeping soundly on the couch just beyond the bedroom door, breathing deeply, occasionally moving…
After reining in my nerves, I slipped out of bed and tried to escape.
I failed, of course. I failed the moment I saw Lukas’s giant body stretched out across the black couch in the main room, blocking the path between me and the exit.
I stood there in the doorway for a while, staring at him while my brain oscillated between panic and wow.
I am not proud of the wow, but wow…
Lukas is…he’s just…insane.
Really, really insane.
So unbelievably insane.
But so beautiful.
“Clara,” he murmurs, waking me when I’ve nodded off beside him, on the couch he slept on.
It’s, probably, the second time he’s woken me.
The first time, he was pressing a cupcake I frosted to my lips, which reminded me to text my boss and let her know that Lukas kidnapped me, and I’m very sorry that I can’t come in to work today, but I don’t know what’s going on, and also—really—it’s Ella’s fault for not saving me.
I knew the woman’s work ethic was borderline when she spent much of setting up yesterday asking me what we were supposed to be doing, but not saving an underling from being kidnapped by a popstar is ridiculous.
I ate the cupcake, hoping the sugar would keep me awake for the rest of the trip, but it quite entirely seems to have shoved me into a coma instead, because this time when I wake up, my head is on Lukas’s lap.
Drowsy as his fingers pull through my hair, I shiver. “Mm?”
“So sleepy,” he murmurs, calloused fingertip grazing the shell of my ear. “We’re almost there. I didn’t know if you wanted to see the manor come into view. It’s a beautiful sight.”
Pushing myself up, I yawn and direct my attention toward the front windows as the driver turns up a quiet lane framed in trees.
My breath catches as the foliage breaks to reveal a sprawling palace, complete with towers and peaks.
Beyond a fountain that rests in the center of the cul-de-sac, stone steps rise toward the three-story mammoth building that seems to go on eternally amid lavish unending gardens.
The Bachelors live in a castle. I knew that they did, of course. But seeing it is something else. I am all awe. I am all amazement. I am all exhaustion.
Breathless, I whisper, “Wow…”
“See? There’s plenty of room for you, cutie pie.” Lukas tips my mouth closed with a single finger on my chin. “Three stories, a massive basement, several pools, gardens galore, storehouses, additional suites… You’ll be safe here, happy, spoiled. My little…E-clair-a.”
Yeah…I’m…seeing that.
Wait.
Did he just call me E-clair-a? That’s really cute.
That’s the cutest thing anyone has ever done with my name.
So it’s really unfortunate that my stomach hurts. But I do believe I’ll get over it.
“It’s beautiful,” I say as the driver takes us down a lane, past more high walls adorned in ivy, toward a garage large enough to fit both this huge bus and what appears to be several dozen other cars.
The cool gray building melds functionality with the elegance of the rest of the palace, managing to keep from looking out of place.
Overwhelmed once we stop, I follow Lukas’s guide and only teeter slightly on the steps out of the bus, soaking in the SUVs, the sports cars, the lap of luxury itself.
Okay. Fine. I understand, Mom. Your advice was bulletproof. What’s a little invasion of my personal space if it means securing a good rep with the men who own all this, right? By contrast, offending this kind of man would be…horrible.
Much better to be taken care of. Much catastrophic to say no.
“Thanks, Jackson. Have a safe trip back home, man.” Lukas clasps Jackson’s hand and reels him in for a guy hug. “Until the next one.”
“Yeah, dude. Always a great time.” Jackson smiles, lifts his hand toward me in farewell, then heads to a parked SUV, unlocking it. He’s gone within the next minute, leaving me alone with Lukas again.
At least, blessedly, I’m not alone with him in his bedroom again?
“You hungry, E-clair-a?” Lukas asks, arms stretched above his head.
He rolls his neck, likely popping every single one of the bones he screwed up by sleeping on the couch last night.
“Viktor said he’d have dinner on the table by the time we got back.
” Dropping his arms, he clasps my hand, beaming with childish joy.
“I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”
I fall into step behind him, tugged along on his relentless mission to…what? Get me settled and make me comfortable here, like some kind of princess? I don’t know.
All I know is that I am not looking forward to meeting more insane celebrities. My heart can barely handle this one.
He continues, all but merciless, “After dinner, I’ll take you out to get some things, show you around Sunset a bit.” He chuckles, squeezing my hand. “It’ll be fun.”
Fun. Yes. Very…very…fun.
Am I a pet or something?
As we step from the garage, and the majesty of the world surrounding the Bachelor manor swallows me up in ways it couldn’t while I was in the tour bus, I tense.
Monarch butterflies flit, landing on plants overburdened by heavy blossoms. Bees buzz.
Sweet scents fill the air, which is crisp and…
country. Fresh. It’s stunning. Everything is stunning.
Lukas really wants me to live here?
He wants to take care of me here?
I am mildly frightened about what he expects in return, and by mildly, I do mean deathly.
But I will cross that terror bridge when I get to it, hoping only that it may not fall out from under me.
Taking me up a sidewalk to a back door, Lukas plunges us into a dim hallway.
At the far end, figures appear, then lights flicker on.
Lukas releases my hand and throws his arms wide as he heads toward three men I recognize from pictures I’ve seen, news stories I’ve read, interviews…
The Bachelor brothers.
Wow. Wow.
It’s really them.
All of them.
I’m really here, and it’s really them, and please I beg you, don’t let my life become a reverse harem fanfiction. I am frail, and weak, and have very strong feelings concerning the socially acceptable love decagons. Please. Please. Please.
“I’m home!” Lukas cheers, dragging Zakery and Viktor into an easy hug—because those two don’t try to run.
Kyran does, but Lukas catches the internet sensation by the hem of his shirt before he can fully get away.
Encompassing all three of his brothers in his giant arms against his broad chest, his giant body eats up theirs, which are also, all things considered, massive.
Reasonably, I develop a complex about my height, which was, before this moment, what I considered tall.
Freeing a huge breath—which likely has started a tornado somewhere—Lukas melts into the hug. “I’m never going on tour again.”
“You say that every time you get back, yet every few years, you go stir crazy,” Kyran mutters, fixing his shirt once Lukas finally concedes to let him go.
“Every few years, I have another album I need to promote, Kyran.” Lukas folds his arms.
Pitiless, Kyran rolls his eyes. “Sounds inconvenient. Stop writing songs.”
Lukas barks a laugh, then musses Kyran’s shoulder-length black hair. “Stop playing games first, squirt.” Shifting his attention to Zakery, he asks, “Where’s your princess?”
“Maelin’s helping Morana with dinner.”
“Morana?” Lukas asks. “I don’t remember meeting a Morana.”
“Her twin sister…” Kyran murmurs, leaning against the wall, phone out. “She works here. Cleans. She was at their wedding.”
“I must’ve missed her since I had to leave right after the vows…” Lukas cocks his head in Viktor’s direction. “Since when do we keep a maid?”
“Since Morana,” Kyran notes.
Lukas pauses, to do math, I think. Then he says, “Is it strange that she’s our sister, but she works for us?”
Kyran’s gaze blackens, icy eyes hardening. “No. Because she’s not our sister. She’s that one’s wife’s sister, and she wanted to keep working.”
Lukas hums. “Does she wear a sexy little uniform? Is that why you’re against her being our sister?
Because, last I checked—” He grips Zakery’s shoulder, shaking him a bit, which the artist in no way seems to mind as his own set of crazy eyes spark happily.
“—this one’s wife’s sister would be ours, too. ”
Kyran only responds to that with a harsh glare.
Viktor takes advantage of the tension to home in on me. “Lukas…who’s that?”
Tangling my fingers together against my stomach, I stay where I am, hoping my day-old work clothes—sans apron—are appropriate to meet royalty in. Hoping the squeak I released when everyone’s focus zeroed in wasn’t…that loud.
Lukas threads his fingers into his hair and casts a casual look back up toward where I’m frozen at the entrance. Nonchalant, he says, “That’s Clara.”
“Clara?” Viktor states.
“Clara,” Lukas repeats.
Viktor’s nostrils flare with a deep breath, which he lets out in a harried sigh. “Lukas. So help me. Are you married?”
“To…Clara?” Lukas asks.
Zakery snickers, which is very unlike the calm, cool, and collected Zakery I know from media.
Now that I’m thinking about it, actually…
The insanity in his eyes is also very unlike the calm, cool, and collected Zakery I know from media.
Mischievous smirk in place, Zakery breaks all of his branding to pieces as he says, “Viktor has this complex that all of us are racing to get married before he and Crisis can tie the knot.”
“Is that what we’re doing?” Lukas asks, conversationally, almost considering it. Before, of course, he gets immediately distracted. “Speaking of, where is Crisis? And Kaleb, for that matter.”
“Kaleb and Crisis went to meet Crimson at her office and drag her home for family dinner. Also, no. That is not what we’re doing.
” Viktor swipes a hand down his stubble.
“Kaleb and Crimson are having a double wedding with Crisis and me come April, though.” Viktor cuts a sharp look toward Zakery.
“They at least had the decency to wait five minutes.”
“I could not contain my love,” Zakery provides, blameless.
“Kaleb and Crimson are getting married, too?” Lukas drops his hand from his hair. “Boy, I go on one tour and miss everything.” A moment of silence passes, then Lukas says, “Well, I’m hungry.” He snaps his fingers. “Come on, cupcake.”
Shoulders bunching, I force my legs to move me forward.
Zakery asks, “Clara’s joining us?”
“Clara lives here now,” Lukas informs everyone.
Viktor grips Lukas’s shoulder, stopping him in place. Gaining a fortifying breath, he says, “…what?”
“I brought home a personal baker for us.”
Viktor repeats, “What?”
“What?” Lukas swats his older brother’s hand off his shoulder. “Zakery brought home a pretty model seamstress. Kyran gets her sister maid. I’m allowed to have a baker.”
“I do not ‘get’ her sister maid,” Kyran mumbles. “Also, she was Zakery’s fault, too, has nothing to do with me, and all you deserve is a lobotomy.”
“Uh-huh,” Lukas says, disinterested. “The point is, Viktor, you can’t judge us for bringing home pretty, talented women just because their skills aren’t necessities. Not everyone can plan your life and help you manage a city via Canva Whiteboards like Crisis.”
I’m fairly certain with an ounce of dedication that statement is false. Canva is known for being dreadfully intuitive.
Viktor’s eye twitches. “First of all, Crisis and I are getting married, yet she still doesn’t live here, so I’d argue that I haven’t brought home anyone.
” Cussing, Viktor pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Second of all, you’re supposed to bring home souvenirs when you come back from tour, not people. ”
“Souvenirs are knickknacks. You, brother dear, do not like knickknacks.” Lukas lifts a hand. “On the contrary, how many of us like people?”
Zakery raises his hand, smile blinding.
“Kyran?” Lukas prompts.
“No.”
Lukas huffs. “Kaleb needs to get back here and join the poll. I’m certain we’re three to two with his help…” Dropping his hand, Lukas reaches for mine and grips, pulling me straight through the middle of his brothers. “It doesn’t matter either way, though. Clara lives here now. Get over it.”
Judging by the way Viktor’s scowl deepens…I don’t think he’ll be getting over it any time soon.