Page 38 of Royal Deception
On the way home, I dial Ana’s number, hoping she isn’t busy. I need to decompress and maybe work through the confusion in my head, and I could use a friend right now.
The subway car rumbles beneath me as I lean against the window, my phone pressed to my ear. Ana picks up on the second ring, her voice warm and familiar.
“Hello, stranger,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “Almost thought you’d disappeared on me.”
“Just been busy,” I say, a smile on my lips at the sound of her voice.
“I hear that,” she says. “I’ve been busy too—mostly from doomscrolling social media and pretending I have a social life.”
This is exactly what I need right now, just a normal, mundane conversation with someone who has no agenda, no desire to push me out of my comfort zone for once. “I saw a post about the walking paths near Thornville Zoo. Do you want to try a new route?”
“Oh, I saw that post too,” Ana gushes. “The view was so pretty at the top of the hill there.”
We fall into a rhythm, chatting about work, the latest drama with one of Ana’s sisters, and the ongoing saga of the couple at our favorite coffee shop. Ana thinks they’re on the verge of breaking up, but I argue that the man is just secretly planning to propose. It’s light, easy conversation.
“I’ve been seeing someone,” I say, the words slipping out of my mouth before I can think about it.
Ana pauses for a beat, her breath hitching just slightly. “Oh?” she asks, curiosity in her tone.
“Yeah,” I say, watching as the city blurs past. “It’s still new.”
“That’s always fun,” Ana says, her voice cheerful. “Spill the deets, girl. Who is he? What’s he like?”
I hesitate for a moment. “He’s… someone I met through work,” I say, keeping it vague. “He’s hot, but in a buttoned-up way. A little bit of a control freak, but I think I like that.”
“Interesting,” Ana says, drawing the word out like a hum. “You okay with that?”
The question catches me off guard. I don’t know how to answer without revealing more than I’m willing to divulge, so I shrug, clearing my throat. “I’m just seeing where things go for now,” I say instead.
“Then I’m happy for you,” Ana declares, as if that settles it. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a small smile tugging at my lips as I look out the train’s window.
We continue to chat the entire rest of the ride home, but I hang up as I arrive, unwilling to accidentally upset Kate by being on the phone.
Thankfully, she seems to be out for the evening, and I head upstairs, glancing at the sketchbook on my bed. Sudden inspiration strikes and I grab my laptop, sitting down on the floor with it and a notebook as I pull up my bank statement.
Taking charge with Rory felt good—so good that it makes me want to take control in other areas of my life, too.
With a baby on the way, I have to think about how my actions will affect him or her, and I have to be prepared for the changes that will come.
I scribble down notes, a tentative budget coming together as I try to figure out how I can save for the baby and fashion school. It’s overwhelming to see the numbers laid out like this, but for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel powerless. I feel like I can do this.
Maybe I’ve been too passive in the past, but it’s time for me to take control of my future.
17
RORY
When my driver picks me up, I’m only half-awake by the time we head to the office, sipping my coffee as the city blurs past the tinted glass.
I exhale slowly as the driver pulls up to the Brannagan Enterprises building. My thoughts are a mess, still tangled in the events of last night. Clary’s sudden shift—the way she took control, even for just a moment—unsettled something in me.
And I liked it. Maybe too much.
But now it’s time to focus. There’s no room for distractions when the workday starts. The office hums with activity as I enter, Clary already seated at her desk. Her head is bent over a tablet, taking notes, and the sight of her should be grounding. Instead, I find myself watching the way her fingers move over the screen, remembering the way they moved over me last night.
She looks up as I approach, her expression neutral, professional, as it should be. I don’t know why that irks me, but it bothers me that she can just put yesterday behind her like that, as though she didn’t shatter the carefully constructed rules I’d set in place.
“Good morning, Mr. Brannagan.” She stands and hands me a file folder. “Here’s more information faxed over from Miss Fitzgerald for the premiere event.”
