Royal Line (Tattered Royals #1) - Carrie Ann Ryan Page 0,2

no one is going to notice if I’m not there. It’s really all about King Gustav anyway. Birthday be damned. I love you for making sure I got to the car. But honestly, you don’t have to drive me to the airport. I’ll just park in long-term parking.”

She bit her bottom lip and started to pick at her cuticle, a long-ago nervous habit I knew she hadn’t managed to break since we were kids.

I saw it as I heaved my massive camera bag over my shoulder. “Thank you for worrying. But you know as well as I do that no one up there is going to even notice I’m gone.”

“Your brothers will notice.”

I reached the car with a sigh of relief. I specifically asked for the Peugeot or something reasonably priced. Nothing flashy. Nothing noticeable. I knew if I took the armor-plated Range Rover that Roman made me drive under normal circumstances, I would most certainly be noticed.

I hit the key fob to open up the boot and then loaded my camera bag and my rolling bag into the back. Then I turned to hug Kate. “I’ll be home soon. My phone is on, so Roman can call and yell at me whenever he wants.”

She sighed. “London, I—”

The passenger side door to the car swung open, and I jumped back. “Oh my God.”

My brother Wilder unfolded his long legs to stand at full height. In the moonlight, his midnight-black hair looked almost blue. “Going somewhere, little sis?”

I turned to glare at Kate with wide eyes. “You didn’t.” I knew that she had. She was unable to deny Wilder anything.

“London, I’m sorry, but you were going to get in trouble. And Wilder said this was in your best interest.”

“I can’t believe you did this.”

“I’m sorry. But I was worried. If you’re going to go, you need a full-scale security team. What you’re doing is dangerous.”

Dangerous, my ass. I couldn’t help but wonder what my brother had offered her in exchange. He could be quite persuasive and manipulative—despite the fact that he was the quietest one of the four of us. When I turned my attention back to Wilder, he had his arm propped on the roof of the car. “A Peugeot? Really, London? You should have at least taken the Mercedes.”

I lifted my chin to glower at my brother. His snobbery knew no bounds. “What are the chances I can bribe you not to tell Roman?”

He merely chuckled. “I’m not going to tell him.” Hope bloomed in my chest, spreading slowly out to my extremities. Was I going to get away with this? Would it be possible to still make my escape? But then he dashed all hope. “You’re going to do the honors. As soon as you get ready for the party. Your guests are waiting.”

“Wilder!”

But there was no swaying him once his mind was made up. “You know how Roman is, between the paparazzi weirdos and the general lack of security. You knew this was going to happen.”

Last ditch, London. Make it good. “Well, it could still happen if you let me go.”

He lifted his brow, his blue eyes telling me what I knew in my soul. I wouldn’t be making my escape tonight. I was going to go back upstairs and put on the pretty blue frock that would bring out my eyes.

I would do as I was told. There would be no dreaming today.

There’d be no dreaming tomorrow.

And possibly no dreaming ever.

If I were to throw my tiara across the room, would it cut anyone?

If no one cared enough to listen, would it make a sound as it slid across the floor, metal and jewels against marble tile?

And if I were to complain to anyone about the fact that I had to wear a damn tiara to this function, I might as well write first world problem in permanent marker on my forehead and figure out how to kick my own ass.

“Princess London, why is such a beautiful girl as you, standing alone in the corner?”

I held back a biting remark that, at the age of twenty-nine—as of today—I was a woman, not a girl, but I refrained. Snapping at random people who were just trying to be pleasant to me on my birthday just wasn’t done.

“Hello, there. I was merely taking a moment to myself.” I plastered a pleasant smile on my face and turned to the handsome gentleman at my side. He had dark hair, a chiseled jaw, and a smile that would drop the