Page 15 of Resisting Royal

I pulled open the backseat of my car and pulled out a large box, feeling Peter shift as I lifted. Without even asking first, the box was removed from my hands, and Royal was carrying Peter toward the building. He was halfway up the first set of steps when he froze.

“Bianca. Why is this box . . . moving?”

I bit my lip. “It has Peter in there.”

He turned slowly, “And Peter is a . . .?”

“Rabbit. Get it? Peter . . . Rabbit.” I waited for him to understand, and when he just continued to look at me like I was nuts, I added, “It’s a children’s book, Royal. Peter Rabbit is a children’s book.”

He nodded excruciatingly slow, making me feel ridiculous. “I don’t read children’s books.”

“I forgot. You were born a full-grown man.” Seriously, who hadn’t heard of Peter Rabbit?

He turned, neither confirming or denying my statement, and continued up the steps. I pulled my bag off the floorboard and slammed the door, looking up at the big house. “How am I going to do this?”

The question was to myself, but Troy appeared behind me, answering anyway. “Flawlessly.”

“Ha. I can’t remember the last thing I’ve done flawlessly.” He reached out and took my bag. “I can carry that.”

“Oh, no, no, no. My head might literally roll if I let you carry anything besides your purse into that house.” He stepped past me, walking toward the steps, leaving me standing by my car watching his back.

I followed them, not really sure where I was going. At the top of the stairs, there was a massive double door standing wide open. Royal, still holding Peter, stood waiting. He looked a little lost, and even though I harbored extreme hate for him or maybe the situation he put me in, I did find his expression sort of cute.

When I was close enough, he spoke. “Did you bring . . . Peter’s . . . cage?”

The way he looked at the box made me laugh. “No. Peter doesn’t have a cage. He’s a free-roaming rabbit.”

His eyebrows rose. “Come again?”

“He roams around the house. He’s litter box trained.” I wished I could take a picture of his expression and repeatedly refer back to it when I needed a giggle.

“But, where does he sleep?” The whole concept had him so baffled.

“With me, usually in my bed. Occasionally in his own bed.” I opened the box in his hand and rubbed Peter's ears.

“No. There is no way this thing is sleeping in my bed.” His eyes looked horrified.

“My bed,” I clarified.

Troy came back after setting down my bags. “Someone needs to read her contract.”

Royal glared as Troy cheerfully took away the box holding Peter. “Our bed.”

Suddenly, the amusement of the free-roaming rabbit wasn’t quite as funny. “We share a room?”

He stood in front of me and rolled his fucking eyes. “We are married.”

I fumbled for words before mumbling, “Yeah, but . . . I don’t know you.”

“You will.” He turned dismissively. “Troy put the bunny in . . . our room.”

I followed him into the house and across the marble tile until we came to a kitchen. “Dinner is cold. Do you want it to be heated?”

I was too busy staring at the massive and admittingly amazing kitchen when his words registered. “It’s fine.”

He grumbled something then walked us through another doorway to a table with food. At the end sat an elderly lady. “Bianca, this is my mother, Greta. She lives here as well, mostly she keeps to the east side of the house and shouldn’t be a bother.”

I stared at the lady sitting in front of me, joy covering her face as she stood and pulled me in a hug. “I’m so happy to finally have a daughter.”

I froze, unsure how to react. Did she know? Did he tell her that this whole relationship was a lie? Or did he let her believe that we were real?

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