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

“Good.” Marco grabbed the coffee pot and filled his cup. “Actually, great.”

“Bed nice and comfy?” Greer went on.

“Shut up,” I hissed. Who’s side was she on?

“Yes.” Marco leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee.

Greer planted her elbows on the counter and rested her chin in her hands. “Will you be sleeping there again?”

Marco grinned wide. “Only if I’m invited.”

“Eggs!” Bristol shouted. “I am making eggs!”

“You really don’t do well in high-pressure situations,” Greer laughed.

“This is so awkward,” Bristol drawled. “I’m dying of embarrassment, and I wasn’t the one who slept with Marco last night.” She slapped her hand over her mouth and turned back to the stove. “I’m not talking anymore,” she mumbled.

Greer sipped her coffee and looked from Marco to me. “You two talk. I’m just here enjoying my coffee while I wait for the eggs that Bristol likes to cook.”

Marco laughed and shook his head. “Call me when those eggs are done.” He pushed off the counter and headed to his office.

No one spoke until we heard his office door shut down the hall.

“Oh, my God!” Bristol gasped.

“I cannot believe you,” I hissed at Greer.

“He totally wants you,” Greer sang.

“No!” I pointed my finger in her face. “Do not put that voodoo on me.”

“Voodoo?” she laughed. “I’m just telling you what I see as plain as day.”

“I sounded like such an idiot,” Bristol moaned. “And he does want you,” she added.

I shook my head. “Nope. Not listening to this.” I put my fingers in my ears and hummed loudly.

Greer talked, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Bristol was also talking while she waved her spatula around in the air.

This was chaos. Pure and utter chaos.

These two were completely against me. They were supposed to be on my side, not telling me that Marco wanted me. I needed reinforcements that were on my side.

I pulled my fingers from my ears.

“What in the hell is going on here?” Apollo boomed.

What was with these guys sneaking up on us?

“Sweet nibblets,” Greer gasped. “What in the hell is wrong with you Banachis?”

“I don’t know. You’re a Banachi, too,” he drawled.

Greer rolled her eyes. “By name, not by blood.”

Apollo shrugged. “You were mine when you were sixteen, Greer. Just took us a little bit to line up together.”

Greer waved her hand at him. “Don’t be sweet with me right now, Pol. You’ve got my heart beating a mile a minute, and it isn’t the good kind.”