Royal Line (Tattered Royals #1) - Carrie Ann Ryan Page 0,79

surrounded by a group of people, each and every one of them enthralled by the actress. And honestly, it was difficult not to be. With her deep brown skin and her brilliant white smile, her coiling curls that flowed and bounced down her back, full lips, wide almond-shaped eyes, and the kind of cheekbones most people paid their plastic surgeons for, she was stunning. But she was also warm and open and gregarious.

I also noticed how Roman, London’s oldest brother and the King of Alden, stared at her. He was doing it surreptitiously too. He would steal a quick glance, frown at her, and then turn back to his conversation. But every time she laughed, he’d look in her direction and scowl.

What the hell was going on there? I knew Rian and London had been friends for a while, so maybe the two had a history I wasn’t aware of. I’d met Roman and one of her other brothers, Wilder. Wilder was stern and glowered even more than Roman did, but I liked them both. The other one, Breck, I hadn’t seen yet. I’d come in just in time for the rehearsal, and he’d had an assignment away from the party. So I’d probably see him at the family brunch in the morning. All of London’s brothers were that sort of aristocratic drop-dead gorgeous type. You could tell they were brothers with their sharp jawlines and patrician noses. And also their eyes, the set of them, with those thick lashes. They were brothers, all right.

When it looked like Rian would be busy for a while, I shot a quick text to her and London, knowing full well that London wouldn’t check her messages for a while.

Sparrow: You guys look amazing. My side hurts. I’m going to crash. I’ll see you in the morning for the brunch.

I gave Olly a wave as he twirled some brunette across the dance floor. He winked in return with a smile. He was having a blast. Good for him. Kannon had been relying on both of us a lot with things changing so much. Olly needed time off just as much as I did.

As I left the ballroom, I gave some smiles and nods and waves to people I’d met during my stay. I hoped my tight smile said I’d had a great time and not, “Dear God, if you talk to me, I’m so tired I might bite your head off.”

All I wanted to do was crash and get off my damn feet. Right outside the ballroom doors, I slid my shoes off. I knew it was probably a major faux pas, but hell, my feet were killing me. The moment I slipped them off, I felt so much better—the cool marble floor icing down the inflammation.

I pulled the little map out of my dress pocket. Nothing better than a dress with pockets and a map to show me the way. The map in the party favors London had given her bridal party was a brilliant touch because it was the only way I’d be able to find my way back to my room. The palace was massive. Even after being there for three days, I was still unable to find the correct hallway toward my quarters, and I was trained for shit like that. I kept worrying that eventually I’d stumble down to the dungeons and no one would ever find me again.

Although London kept trying to tell me dungeons didn’t exist in the palace, I wasn’t sure if I should believe her or not. I mumbled to myself as I turned left down the hall and then took a right past the gardens.

One more right turn, and I was in my hallway. I recognized the painting right across from my room which I’d drawn as the X that marked the spot on my map.

London’s family had graduated to the tech of the new century, and so had their digs. As I approached my door, my phone told the door who I was, and the lock disengaged.

Turning the handle, I pushed on the heavy wood but paused when I heard moaning.

What the hell? I pushed the door farther, letting in more light, and the moaning increased. Then somebody called out, “Love, whether you’re joining us or not, letting in the light is kind of rude.”

“What the fuck?”

I hit the lights, only to find a man in my damn bed. A man with the nicest ass I’d ever seen. In my bed. With a