Page 11 of Royal Fling
“Huh?” I looked up at her.
Beth raised her eyebrow and took her cellphone out of her back pocket.
“Go? Go where?” I asked.
“That address,” she said.
I shook my head and backed away from her and the letter.
“No. It’s late. It’s not the time—”
“No. Nuh-huh. I know you Karagiannises. You guys are strong, but fuck me, sometimes you back away without a fight. You get in your heads. So we’re doing this now before you completely back away from this. I’m ordering an Uber.”
I tried to reason with her. I tried to stop her. But I guessed Beth was a force of nature. Kinda like my sister, actually. She reminded me of Melody. A lot.
She went back to her place to get dressed, and ten minutes later we were inside a car on our way to One Hyde Park.
On our way to my parents.
There was a concierge on entry who asked for our IDs and who we were visiting. Then he made a phone call, asked us to go through a screening body scanner, just like the ones I’d gone through at the airport, before he let us past.
We were then directed to an elevator that had three buttons. One indicating 0, the other -1, and the last 7.
“How are you feeling?” Beth asked beside me.
I might have only met her half an hour ago, but I already appreciated her presence here. I couldn’t believe they’d let us in. It was almost midnight. No sane person would take visitors at this time.
But maybe my parents weren’t sane at all.
The doors of the elevator opened up into an apartment, and three men were standing in front of us.
A blond giant, a brunet brunet giant, and the dashing dick from the airport.
What. The actual. Fuck?
Four
August
This was definitely an unusual time for a visitor, but what was even more unusual was that they were here for Nonny and not me.
Nonny didn’t have a family or connections outside of this house, which, granted, sounded awful, but then again, she’d spend most of her youth looking after six spoiled royals, and it’s not like I had many friends outside of this house, either.
This late-night visit had piqued my curiosity. Who on earth was Lucas Karagiannis and Bethany Rogers?
Fisayo had retreated to her bedroom to throw her clothes back on since she had changed to her night gown in preparation for bed as we enjoyed a nightcap with everything that had transpired in New York City, so I was standing in front of the lift with Erik and Yannis on either side.
They didn’t carry guns around the house, but they didn’t need them to tackle anyone, either. Their volume would do the trick in half the time.
The doors opened, and I perked an eyebrow at the people on the other side.
There was a beautiful woman with bright ginger hair, thin eyebrows, and green eyes dressed in simple jeans and a blouse, but there was also a man. The same man that had called me a dick at the airport.
How had he found me? Had he followed me?
But then again, even if he had, how would he know Fisayo’s name?
“It’s you!” he said with as much shock in his tone as I felt inside.
