“Oh,” I murmur, because what else can I say?
Lula crunches on the last of the cookie. “I don't know what he's planning but you're a part of it.”
I gulp. I wanted more information, and I got it. But now I’m sorry I did. I expected a sip of water and got a blast from a firehose.
“Doesn't Royal need a woman who's more…” I stop because I don't know what I'm going to say. More suited to the role of his wife? More beautiful or knowledgeable about his life?
“More what?” Lula’s eyes soften, but Royal returns, strolling back into the kitchen and standing between us.
“It's time,” he says and holds a hand. And even though I have no idea what’s going on, what this beautiful man is about or why he’s so set on making me his, I walk to him and put my hand in his.
Lula follows us to his office, a quiet smile on her face. Together, their height is intimidating. They’re two tall bookends and I’m the bedraggled kitten between them.One of these things is not like the others. One of these things doesn’t belong.
Royal settles me in his huge desk chair. He takes my hand, checking for the ring. He runs a thumb over the jewel. “Did you and Lula have a good chat?”
“Yes?”
The two of them chuckle at my hesitation.
“So, Leah, in addition to being Royal’s cousin, I’m also the family lawyer.” Lula has her briefcase back in hand. She pulls a packet of papers out. “I drew up the papers you requested, we just need to sign them.”
“I can go,” I say, trying not to look too eager to get out of here, and appear like I’m jumping at reasons to bail.
“Un momento, Leah,” Royal says. “We will need your witness and signature.”
I huff under my breath—foiled—and look around the room while he sits and signs paper after paper. There’s a thick stack of it, creamy-white and plush. I glance around the room, trying to act casual.
“Leah,” Royal calls and pushes it towards me. “Now your signature.”
“Do I want to know what I'm signing?” I mutter as I sign and initial the places Lula points out with her blood-red nails.
“My last will and testament,” Royal says, off-hand.
“What?” My pen pauses, but I’ve already signed the last spot. “Am I witness?” I blink at him.
“No. You’re my heir.”
“What?” I shriek, and the pen drops from my ice-cold fingers. It thumps on the desk-top, and rolls before falling right off of the desk onto the floor.
Lula’s already bundled the papers and stacked them neatly—oblivious, or politely ignoring my outburst. I gape at Royal.
“What—“
The study door opens and an older man bursts in. “I see I’m too late to stop this nonsense.”
He’s shorter, stockier, but his features are similar to Royal’s. This is Vinnie, Royal’s father. They have the same Roman nose. Vinnie’s hair is streaked with gray, and he’s got a spare tire he’s been working on for a while. He’s followed by two men, in long black wool coats, and dark sunglasses.
“Enough of this, Royal,” Vinnie says, glancing at me for a moment before his gaze flicks away. Like I’m nothing, and nobody important. I shrink in the big leather chair, feeling even more like a kid playing ‘office’in her father’s study.
Lula is silent, snapping the papers into her briefcase.Between you and me, not many of us are fans of Uncle Vinnie, but he’s the boss so we all toe the line.
Crap. This is the boss.
When Vinnie speaks again, and Lula looks at him for the first time, it’s clear that not only doesn’t she like him… sheloatheshim.
Royal’s face has gone blank.
“You were meant for better things than this. The family has a reputation to uphold. You need to marry the daughter of aDon, maybe a Vesuvi or Serpente. One of the ruling families. Not someone like...” He waves a dismissive hand in my direction.
