family shipped me off to Singapore to get fixed up, and now that I’ve made a miraculous recovery, they’re welcoming me back with open arms.
I’m not broken anymore, so I’m worthy of their attention.
My date shifts in her seat. She reaches into her tiny clutch purse and pulls out a pill packet, handing it to Beckett. “Here,” she says with a smile. “I have allergies all the time. These antihistamines are prescription.”
Beckett’s eyebrows arch, and he accepts the pill with a grateful nod. “Thanks. You’re an actress, right? You were in the last James Bond movie.”
Her face breaks into a smile. “Yeah, I’m Margot LeBlanc. I loved playing a Bond girl. Something about being a villain was really fun and freeing.” Her laugh is musical, and she flicks her hair over her shoulder.
Margot. Right. I silently thank my brother for asking.
“Beckett,” my brother says, extending a hand. When Margot reaches over to take it, she knocks over my glass of champagne with her arm. I catch it as it sloshes over my plate, and a waiter whisks it away within seconds.
Margot looks embarrassed and apologizes. She glances at Beckett, and they stare at each other for a little bit too long. Beckett’s eyes shine, and he smiles at my date like an idiot.
I’m not going to pretend like I’m into this chick, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to let Beckett swoop in on her. Apart from Cara, Margot is the hottest chick in the room. I reach my arm over the back of her chair, leaning into Margot as I glance at my brother. His smile fades, and Margot clears her throat, smiling at me.
I sip my champagne as an awkward silence settles between us.
Princess Dahlia makes a soft noise, smiling politely at us. “So, Prince Luca, please tell us about your recovery over the past few years. You must have worked very hard.”
“Never thought I’d have to learn to walk twice,” I say, taking another slug of champagne.
Prince Damon nods, and starts telling us about his own brush with death. His was self-inflicted, though. I remember the news reports from a few years ago. It was right before he met Princess Dahlia.
By the time we’re onto the second course, I’m half-cut and dying for a piss. I excuse myself from the table, stumbling through the castle hallways, leaning against expensive paintings on the walls for support. I stumble down the hallway, poking my head into lavish rooms.
Are there no bathrooms in this fucking castle?
I pinch my lip together and finally just choose another door at random. Whatever it is, I’m taking a piss in it.
Turns out, it’s a formal living room with a balcony. I head over to the balcony, unzip my pants and water one of the plants. Groaning in relief, I zip myself back up and reach into my pocket for a joint.
I can’t go back in there without taking the edge off. It’s too soon to take another painkiller, and the booze isn’t doing anything to distract me from the pain that’s starting to pulse down my spine. Weed will help.
Beckett and Margot are making eyes at each other across the dinner table, I’m zoned out most of the time, and I can still hear Cara’s laugh from across the Great Hall. I light up my joint and take a puff, leaning against the exterior wall as I stare off the balcony.
Farcliff isn’t bad, I guess. It’s colder than Argyle, but that’s because it’s much farther north. There are more trees here than in our Caribbean climate, and the air does taste cool and fresh. It’s late May, and the whole country is exploding with blooms and the excitement of late spring.
It makes me feel even more bitter than I already do.
Farcliff is like Margot—she’s nice, and pretty, and sweet—but all I want to do is fuck her and leave her broken in my wake. This trip to Farcliff is supposed to be the start of a homecoming for me, but all I want to do is ruin my brother’s life.
Hopefully, if all goes well, Cara will hate every minute of it. Maybe then she’ll get a tiny taste of the torture she’s put me through.
As I watch the smoke swirl around my head, a smile curls my lips. My PR team wants me to date Margot? That’s exactly what I’ll do—but I’m not promising it’ll end with a happily-ever-after.
3
Ivy
Cinnamon buns were invented to make bad days better.