Page 70 of Gilded Princess

“I’m not giving her up. I mean it, man. You’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands,” he growls through gritted teeth.

I don’t turn around, leaving him facing my back. I don’t trust myself not to engage if he takes a swing at me. Because I know he wants to. He’s too green, too young to understand the ramification of taking a shot at the undeclared underboss of our family.

I’m sure I could spin it as a family thing, which it is, but it’ll make both of us look weak. And that’s not something I can afford right now. Instead, I face the hallway, protecting us both, and deliver the thinly veiled threat to the person I spent most of my life shielding.

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, brother.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

MADDIE

I wake up with a belly full of anxious caterpillars squirming around. I don’t know what to expect today, and I’ve never really done well with the unexpected. The soft cotton of the sheets feels cool against my legs as I stretch my limbs out. There’s something about a good stretch to start the day that energizes me .

Unbidden, images of last night drift across my consciousness. Hot pricks of shame poke at my bliss, threatening to pop my good mood like a balloon.

Last night was . . . a lot.

And it’d be easy to let pop. To let polite society’s norms taint what were two of the best kisses I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Though, all the kisses between Leo and I have been amazing, so maybe it’s more like two of the best kissers.

But spending the week away from those expectations and those people has freed me from those restrictions—at least temporarily.

I don’t have any regrets, and if given the chance, I’d pick up right where Leo and I left off.

And where Dante and I left off.

My lips tip up in a secretive smile. In a weird way, I’m kind of proud of myself. And I know once I tell Lainey, she’s going to be giggling right alongside me.

Who knew following my own North Star would feel so rewarding? And orgasmic?

Ugh, my eyes roll of their own accord at my cheesiness.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me that this new schedule I’ve been on isn’t conducive to breakfast before ten o’clock. I’m used to eating before seven most mornings, and usually something light like yogurt and organic, grain-free granola or egg whites.

But here? Here, it’s like a gourmet breakfast with omelets and muffins and all the kinds of food my mother warned my sister and me away from when we got boobs in middle school. That’s when I first really started understanding what it means to count calories.

Not everyone is meant to be a parent, and unfortunately for us, our only living parent falls into that category.

With that depressing thought, I haul myself out of bed and get ready for the day. I want to have a conversation with Leo and Dante, clear the air a little. When I went in search of Leo last night, it was with the intention to talk. But things escalated, and we didn’t do too much talking.

Not that I’m complaining.

But I want to be clear with them. I’m not trying to hurt anyone. That’s not my goal here.

I’m sure there will be a few questions. And depending on how it goes, maybe the best thing would be for me to head home. It was so kind of Matteo to offer up his home to me to lie low in, but I’m okay now. It’s probably time for us all to get back to our daily lives.

It’s been a wild week, the least of which is finding out that Leo and Matteo are related. You’d think that with the week I’d had I couldn’t be surprised, but I was.

My emotions ping-ponged from desire to shock too many times last night that the details are a little fuzzy.

Caffeine. I need caffeine to think everything through.

I quickly get myself ready, dressing in one of my favorite summer dresses. It’s a knee-length, linen, A-line dress with a delicate halter neckline. Soft blue and white flowers cover most of the fabric, and the skirt is swishy and flirty.

I add a little concealer underneath my eyes, apply a few coats of mascara, and bronze my cheekbones to complete the look. Leaving my hair down might be a mistake in this humidity, but I can always twist it up.

The unmistakable smell of cooking bacon wafts down the hall, and I let my nose lead the way to the kitchen. Before I’m anywhere near, I hear voices—male voices. Slowing my steps, I tilt my head to listen. I’m not going to eavesdrop, but after yesterday’s surprise, I don’t want to be caught off guard by another roommate.

My footsteps are quiet on the distressed plush runner rug in the hallway, the soft fabric absorbing the noise. I hear Leo and Matteo for sure. There’s at least another voice too, but it’s too quiet for me to tell if it’s Dante or someone else.

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