Wicked Royals (Elites of Macedon High 1)

And considering what I just learned, I can’t tell if I’m thankful for it yet.

Once Tomas says that he’s on his way, I join my mother, helping her guide Marie into the hall and then to a private room a few doors away. A long couch sits underneath a huge window overlooking the pier, allowing sunlight to shed cheerfully into the room. Ignoring my mother takes more strength than I realize.

Does she know what I just heard?

“Tomas will be here soon,” I tell her. “You can go back to the luncheon.”

The way she turns to me makes my skin prickle with annoyance. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

My jaw clenches as I fold my arms over my chest. You mean like your husband?

It can’t be true. Can it? My father wasn’t the type to fuck around.

But maybe Coach is right. Maybe there’s way too much I just don’t know about Macedon.

When Tomas arrives, he and I shuffle Marie out the rear exit to avoid further public embarrassment. We settle her in the back seat of the truck, making sure to sandwich her increasingly limp body between two fat pillows. The bottles of water, granola bars, and bucket that sit on the ground produce a depressed sigh from me.

“Not the first time, huh?” I ask while he helps me into the passenger seat. The door claps shut, blanketing the cab in silence. I peer back at Marie, who is already dozing. “Goddamn, is that going to be me one day?”

“No,” Tomas says confidently. “Not even close.”

But the shiver in his voice betrays his lack of confidence.

Fuck me, I think while turning toward the window. I watch Thasos disappear in the side mirror, wondering what my mother is doing right this second.

“Tommy,” I whisper. “Did you know my father had other children?”

He inhales sharply and responds, “Yes.”

“Do you know who?”

“No, doll. I don’t.”

That’s all I need to hear. What reason would Tomas have to lie to me about all that? Besides, a drunk mouth speaks a sober mind—Marie is likely spitting what she already knows. Whether my mother knew about all this isn’t exactly clear just yet. She seemed equally shocked by the announcements, though maybe that was a practiced performance.

How much more does she know?

Once Tomas parks in front of his home, we help carry his mother upstairs to her bedroom, making sure to keep her on her side in case she pukes. He gathers a few servants and two security guards, instructing them to sit in the room with his mother. Then he gathers Adelaide from downstairs and takes us both up to his bedroom.

Dark clouds gather in the distance as Adelaide pops earbuds into her ears and nestles into the bed with her iPad. Tomas settles in the middle of the bed and taps the space next to him, chipped black paint marking his fingernails and making me smirk as I slide onto the mattress next to him.

I tap his nails. “What’s all this?”

“Self-expression. Ever heard of it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve spent my whole life trying to live the way my mother wants me to live.”

Thunder rumbles above, vibrating the windows. Shadows crawl over the room as the faint sound of rain patters in the garden just beyond the bedroom. It grows heavier in a steady wave, sweeping over the entire estate in a matter of seconds.

I curl up closer to Tomas, inviting his hand to circle my waist. He peeks over his shoulder to check on his sister, soft snores rising from behind him. When he focuses on me, he whispers, “I hate this fucked-up life, baby doll.”

“I’m sorry.”

He snorts. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who should be sorry. I can’t stop my sister from being forced into marriage with a fucking thug. She’s my mother’s only daughter.”

“I’m also my mother’s only daughter, getting forced into marriage…with a thug like you.”

His eyes widen in shock, indignation settling into his features.