The Royals Next Door

“Sounds exhausting,” I tell her. “I could never do it. I would fail right away. There’s no hiding who I am.”

Okay, so there’s a little bit of hiding with my saucy romance podcast, but Monica doesn’t need to know that.

“I know. That’s why I think we get on so well,” she tells me.

Now I’m smiling the cheesiest smile. I’m so hopeless.

“By the way,” she adds, “another bodyguard has just arrived. His name is James, and he’ll be sharing duties with Harrison. Once news of the baby gets out, you can bet we’ll need to step up our security.”

“Is he like Harrison, or is he normal?”

Monica bursts out laughing, and I look to the front of the boat to see Harrison glaring at me.

I give him a look like, Well?

He turns back around, and we speed away.

Ten

The next day I feel like I’ve got a precipitously placed cork in me, barely holding the contents of a bubbling secret inside.

I can’t believe Monica and Eddie are having a baby.

Furthermore, I still can’t quite believe that they both entrusted me with that information. They don’t even know me, and yet they somehow trust that I’m not about to run to the tabloids with this information. Even with the NDA signed, I have no doubt that I would be paid a lot of money for the tip, and it’s obvious that my mother and I aren’t exactly swimming in the dough. And yet they confided in me, and as a result, I’ve been pulled into their world.

Maybe they’re just good judges of character. I would never even dream of doing such a thing, and perhaps they see that.

But at the same time, whoo boy, it’s a little unfair, only because I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell my mother or not, and even though I obviously have hidden many secrets from her, this one feels hard. But it’s not my business to tell, and so I keep that cork firmly pushed in place.

My mom is in a good mood this morning. She’s in her own little world, making more tea and talking to herself, leaving the kitchen a mess of different dried herbs and flowers. Occasionally she’ll shoot me a question about flavor combinations, but the rest of the time she’s happily muttering away and doing her thing.

I’m on the couch with Liza curled at my feet, trying to read the next book in this bear-shifter series so I can move on to this octopus erotica (don’t judge, it’s a thing), when there’s a knock at the door.

Startled, I drop the book, and Liza starts barking.

Without seeming too concerned, my mother heads over to the door and opens it.

Harrison is on the other side.

My first thought is that I’m glad to see him. My second thought is a swift correction, that I shouldn’t be glad to see him.

“Well, good morning, Mr. Harrison,” my mother says, and then gestures inside. “Please, come in.”

“Actually, it’s just Harrison. My last name is Cole.” He looks over my mother’s shoulder and at me. “And I was wondering if I could have a word with you, Piper.”

Ah, here it comes. He’s going to get me to sign an NDA over the whole pregnancy thing. Figures that this is the only reason he seems to show up, when he wants something from me.

Obviously. Why else would he be here? the voice in my head asks, always keeping me in check.

I get up and go to the door, stepping outside and shutting it behind me.

Harrison towers over me, dressed in his usual suave bodyguard attire, while I’ve got on my leggings and a long cream tank top that’s a little more low-cut than I normally wear.

He has a clear view of my cleavage, but it’s not like I can tell where his eyes are focused.

“Here to threaten me into silence?” I ask him with a tired sigh, leaning against the house.

His brows raise. “Pardon?”

“I assume you’re here to make me sign another nondisclosure agreement over what Monica told me. And no, don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone. Not even my mother.”

He gives his head a light shake. “No, that’s not it. I do what Monica asks. She hasn’t said anything about that . . .”

The way he trails off makes me think he might bring it up with her now.

“Well, good,” I say, feeling a little stupid for jumping to conclusions. “So why are you here?”

He rubs his lips together for a moment, and I realize it’s probably the first time that I’ve seen any hint of trepidation or hesitation on his face. Like, ever.

“I need to go off island, find a Costco or something comparable, so we don’t have to keep running to the grocery store every other day.” He pauses. “We don’t have a Costco card.”

“So you assume I do?”