Royally Unexpected 2 - Lilian Monroe Page 0,2

to relax.

I love baking. I always have. Mama and I used to spend hours in the kitchen together, putting together lavish desserts from scraps of food that she scrounged from who-knows-where. She taught me everything I know about baking, and every time I make something, I think of her.

As Mama’s illness progressed and her tremors became more severe, she stopped being able to bake. She’d sit in the kitchen as I did the work. Mama would coach me through the complex recipes, and then we’d eat the treats together.

It was special. It still is. Baking is the one thing that I’m really, really good at.

Right now, I need to think about something other than my beautiful sister, her impending royal relationship, and my own inadequacy.

Cinnamon buns might do the trick.

Slipping on my bright blue apron, I get to work. The sounds of the hairstylists and agents and managers fades into the background, and I inhale the scent of fresh dough. It’s the scent of memories, home, and comfort. As soon as my fingers sink into the soft dough, a smile drifts over my lips.

This is where I’m happiest. If I could give up the seven-bedroom mansion and all the money and comfort that Margot provides for me, I would. I’d open a small bakery in Farcliff and I’d sell everything that my mother and I used to bake together.

The clack-clack-clack of stilettos on our Italian marble floors informs me my sister is coming to find me. I cover the dough to prove it, and then wipe my floury hands on my apron.

Margot comes around the corner in all her glory. In six-inch heels, she looks even more breathtaking than she usually does. Her makeup is flawless, of course, and her hair is swept to the side in elegant curls. The blue dress was a good choice—it makes her perfect figure look like she’s walking around with real-life Photoshop on her body. She smiles at me, but pauses at the kitchen’s entrance.

“I don’t want to get flour on my dress, but I wanted to say thank you for all your help today. I couldn’t have done it without you. I know it’s been a tough couple of months, but once this relationship goes public, it should provide a lot more opportunities for us. We’ll be real stars, Ivy.”

We.

My heart squeezes.

Why am I such an ass?

Here I am, cursing my sister’s name, and she’s including me in all her plans. Everything she’s done to be in the public eye, to make all this money—it’s been for my father and me.

We stand on the opposite side of the kitchen. The distance between us is vast.

I force a smile. “I’ll have cinnamon buns ready and waiting for you when you come back.”

“Can’t wait,” she says, as if she’ll actually eat one. I don’t think she’s eaten a simple carb in ten or twelve years.

She turns to leave, and then pauses. “Oh, would you mind grabbing my dry cleaning? Marcella didn’t have time to do it today with everything going on.” Without waiting for an answer, my sister blows me a kiss and disappears down the hallway with her entourage in tow.

I grimace, wincing when the door slams. “Sure, no problem!” I call out into the silence. I listen to the big, empty house, not quite sure what I’m expecting to hear.

Then, with a sigh, I take my apron off and do my sister’s bidding.

2

Luca

Queen Cara of Argyle looks radiant as she walks up the wide steps leading up to the Farcliff Castle doors. Her rich, purple gown cinches her at the waist, and my eyes stay glued to the spot on her lower back where my hand used to rest.

Key words: used to.

Past tense. As in, not anymore. Never again.

I sit in the back seat of my limousine with a sick feeling in my stomach. My brother, King Theo, smiles at the flashing cameras and lifts his arm up towards them. His wife’s tiara sparkles with every photo as she stands beside him. Hot coals glow in my chest, burning me from the inside out.

My lips pinch and my gut churns. My brother, Beckett, watches me from across the limousine.

“You okay?”

I sigh. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He gives me a tight-lipped smile. “It’s good to see you again, Luca.” He slides over beside me and pats my knee. “Argyle wasn’t the same without you.”

“It’s been a long five years, that’s for sure. It’s good to see you too.”

I smile at Beckett, and the tension between