Page 35 of The Princess Trap
Cherry: Girl shut up. I’m not staying up to text you about Teen Wolf.
Magz: Wow, you don’t love me at all, do you?
Cherry stared at that message for way longer than she should have. It was a joke. The kind of throwaway comment they made all the time, totally sarcastic. But it struck her all at once just how much shedidlove Maggie. How happy it made her to think of her little sister living her best geeky life across the pond, going to school every day with all the other geeks, learning to be the greatest geek she could be. Or something. And while the whole family had moved heaven and earth to make that happen, the possibility that one day they might run out of heaven and earth had always existed.
But it didn’t exist anymore.
Cherry: You take your meds?
Magz: I’m the one who suffers if I don’t, so what do you think?!
Cherry: LOL. Down, girl. Night x
Magz: Night sis, love you x
Cherry: I really love you too.
Chapter Twelve
The next morning, Hans dragged Ruben to the dining room bright and early for ‘a meeting’.
He found a council of war seated at the mahogany table, sunlight streaming through the tall, glass windows like a hazy spotlight. Demi sat at the head of the table, the set of her shoulders and her dark, winged brows giving her a militant air. She was wearing her glasses again, and her usual plain hijab, so she looked both familiar and austere all at once.
To her right was a round, faded old woman wearing a floral apron and a warm smile: Agathe. And to Demi’s left was Hans, who was staring at the side of Demi’s head with a brooding expression. Probably because he hated meetings, Ruben thought. Those two really were polar opposites.
At the end of the table, two more seats faced each other. One was empty. The other was occupied by Cherry, and the sight of her was like a punch to the gut.
Her lipstick was peachy today, instead of red, and glossy instead of… whatever the opposite of glossy was. Her velvety skin shone in the sunlight and her tight curls quivered with every movement of her head, like countless little springs coiled up with energy. He remembered how soft those curls had felt in his hand and wanted to kick himself. How had he fucked things up so royally with this woman?Thiswoman, of all women?
Her eyes settled on him, gleaming copper in the light, and he tore his gaze away. He may be infatuated, but there was no need for her to know that. It would only make her uncomfortable.
Ruben bent over the old woman’s shoulder on his way to his own seat, pressing a kiss against her soft, wrinkled cheek. “Agathe.”
“Good morning, lazy boy.”
He clapped a hand to his chest, feigning pain. “Lazy? Me? How could you say such a thing?”
“You are late,” Agathe sniffed.
“Yes,” Demi said. “So sitdown, Ruben,please.” She reminded Ruben of the staff at the Trust corralling younger kids with a rictus-grin. “I thought we could have this little meeting to, ah, collect ourselves! Get our house in order. You know, since—”
“Since Ruben dived into a shit show and dragged the rest of us along with him,” Hans said darkly.
There was a slight pause. Agathe looked aghast. Cherry appeared to be fighting a smirk. He wanted to kiss thatsmirk off her face. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be glaring at Hans.
“No,” Demi said, dealing with Hans on her own. “I wasgoingto say, since we want to be at the top of our game for the ball next month.”
Ruben sat up straight. “Ball?”
“Yes,” Demi sighed. “You didn’t check your emails?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Really?” she asked sweetly. “During that two hour flight yesterday?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Demetria.”
With a sigh, she let it go. She knew how much he hated fucking balls. And soirées. And garden parties. And—
