Royal Mess (Devil's Knights 2nd Generation 3)

“And what exactly does have to do with me around here?” I blinked and replayed what I had just said in my head. “That didn’t make sense, but you know what I mean. What am I supposed to do while I’m here?” There, that made sense. “I know this is my prison, but I didn’t really think I was going to be confined to a room with no one to talk to.”

“It’s not a prison, Royal,” he drawled.

I rolled my eyes. “We’re not going to talk circles around this again, Marco.” I couldn’t leave whenever I wanted, so it was a prison.

“Then let me show you around so I can get to work.” He motioned to the stairs. “Your room is up here.”

“Do I get to choose my room, or has that already been decided for me?”

“There are three rooms you can choose from.”

“Where do you sleep?” I asked. I was going to pick the room farthest away from him.

A smirk spread across his lips. “You plan on joining me, Royal?”

“No,” I grumbled. “I plan on staying as far away from you as I can. I want to know which one is yours so I can avoid it.”

Marco chuckled. “Pick any of them. I won’t have time to bother you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You lead the way. I don’t know where I’m going in this mansion.”

Marco shrugged. “Mansion is a bit of a stretch.”

“Wyndemere Estates, Marco. This place could have its own zip code.” It looked like a log cabin on the outside, but a log cabin for the rich and famous. Inside, everything had a rustic touch to it, but it still screamed money. I had only seen the entryway and stairs, but I was already afraid if I touched something, it would break. I didn’t have enough money in my checking account to pay for the front door knob, let alone anything else. “It’s a freakin’ mansion.”

“Call it what you want.” Marco turned and climbed the stairs.

When I was halfway up, I looked to the left and saw a glimpse of a massive kitchen and a dining room with a huge table. Beyond that there was a hallway, but I couldn’t tell where it lead.

“You coming?” Marco was five steps above me with a frown on his face.

“After I take a nap, I am going to have Apollo give me a tour.” I had gone from the excitement of hanging out with Meg and Indiana, to the low and despair of finding out Grit was dead, to now being thrown into a mansion with the guy who was responsible for Grit’s death. Talk about a whirlwind day.

“I will give you a tour when you want one.”

I moved up the steps and stood on the one next to him. “I thought you won’t have time to bother with me?”

“That’s not what I said.”

I rolled my eyes. “Pretty darn close to what you said.”

“I said I won’t have time to bother you. Not that I won’t have time to bother with you.”

I reached out and pressed my hand to Marco’s shoulder. “You sure do know how to split a hair, Marco.”

He looked at my hand and then back up at me. “When I speak, I know what I say and what I mean. If I don’t, I don’t speak.”

I dropped my hand. “Well, I guess that’s good, right?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

I shrugged and moved up the stairs. I had wanted Marco to lead, but I figured I would find my own way. “I don’t know. I guess sometimes it’s good to just speak what you’re feeling and not have to analyze it. Do you really say what you mean all of the time, or are you saying what you think is right?”

I reached the top of the steps and looked each way down the hallway. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to figure out where I was going after all.

“This way,” Marco called. He turned right and headed down the hallway.

“How many rooms do you have here?” I asked. We passed three closed doors, and it seemed like the hallway went on forever.