To Steal a Groom (Royal Billionaire Romance) (14 page)

Dinner arrives, derailing their conversation. I stab my fork into my food, though I entertain the thought of stabbing it into Marc. My parents are far from wonderful, but I still don’t want them embarrassed in front of everyone.

My mom scoots her chair closer to mine. “Look at this!” She grabs my hand, cooing. “This diamond is gorgeous! Just like my daughter, of course. But what’s this old thing?” She picks at my lion ring with a long fingernail. “It’s tarnished. You give it to me, and I’ll see that it gets cleaned up.”

I snatch my hand away. “I love this ring, Mom. It’s perfect the way it is.” And while she may take the time to get it cleaned, I know I’d never see it again.

“Where’d you find that, anyway?”

“Damon proposed with it.” I think my tone should make it clear that this line of discussion is closed, but my mom has never been good at picking up on hints.

She nudges me with a pointed elbow. “I see why you made him get you another one.”

The monarchs exchange a glance.

“That’s not it at all, Mom. Damon got me another ring because he’s kind, and far too generous. I would have been happy with no rings at all.” Wait, did I really just tell my mother that Damon is generous? I wince. She’ll never forget that. My time away from my parents has made me soft. I need to bring out my thorns. To shield myself, but most of all to protect Damon.

We make it through two courses without incident. As the servers bring out plates of wild Scottish grouse topped with shaved truffles, my mom turns to me again.

“What a beautiful necklace.”

My hand flies to the dangling alexandrite pendant that Damon gave me. I respond automatically. “You can’t have it.”

“What? I was just trying to give you a compliment.” Huffing like she’s been wounded, she scrapes the truffle shavings to one side of her plate. “You could be more gracious. We spent every last penny flying over here. Of course, seeing you again is priceless. I’m so glad we were invited.”

So there’s the first mention of money. I’m sure it won’t be the last. But that’s not what interests me. “Tell me, Mom, who did invite you?”

My father guffaws as he sends a server for a third glass of wine. “Did Grace ever tell you guys about the first time she ever stole?”

The room goes silent. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

“She botched it, of course. Drew the attention of a cop and everything. Luckily, she was still cute at the time, enough to be forgiven with one look of those puppy-dog eyes. That, and the officer couldn’t figure out what a seven-year-old wanted with a carburetor.” He slaps the table, laughing at his own punch line.

I stare at my plate, wishing I could switch places with the grouse. At least it’s well past being capable of embarrassment. My dad’s story becomes much less amusing with the additions of who sent me to fetch a part for him from a well-guarded scrap yard, and how he hid when I got caught.

All I can do is pray that dinner ends soon, and my parents decide to leave quietly. As much as I hate their stories about me, they could start weaving tales of Mom’s affairs or Dad’s prison time at any moment.

Damon lays a hand over the fist I’ve clenched in my lap and gives it a reassuring squeeze. At least he doesn’t hate me. “Would you like me to excuse us?” he whispers. “I can, if you’d like.”

“No,” I whisper back. “I need to keep an eye on them, in case I need to do damage control.”

“Fair enough.”

“What are you two lovebirds whispering about?” my mom asks. “Planning what to do in the bedroom later tonight? How naughty.”

My dad hitches up his belt. “Let me tell you, Damon, you’re in for a wild time there if she takes after her mother. You’ll want to keep a tight leash on her though, that’s all I’m going to say at the dinner table.”

I gulp down the rest of my champagne. It’s far too late to teach him that none of their conversation is appropriate for any table.

“Rex can be so funny.” My mom kicks his foot under the table, possibly reminding him not to go too far. “He might have been better off if he’d been raised by wolves.”

My dad glowers at her. “You aren’t going to insult my mother again, are you? She was a saint.”

“The saint of what, moonshine?”

I don’t think they’re acting anymore. This could get ugly.

At least Marc seems to be enjoying the proceedings. All he’s missing is a box of fucking popcorn. His father, on the other hand, is not amused. Darius gives me a cool look. I know there’s fire behind those stony eyes. His opinion of me must be sinking even further.

Damon sets his silverware down with a clatter. “How long are you planning to stay in our city, Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow?”

“Oh, call me Desiree, dear.” My mom is all smiles once more. “We aren’t sure yet. Probably until the wedding.”

I bristle. “And did you get invitations for that? Is Dad going to pull them out of his pockets too?”

“That’s my girl, always dramatic.” My mom lets out a grating laugh. “You wouldn’t keep your parents from seeing you get married, now would you?” She takes a sip of her drink, clearly considering the matter resolved.

We can fight about that another time. “Where are you planning on staying, then?” They aren’t going to crash with us. Damon and I are having enough intimacy issues as it is.

“We wouldn’t want to burden our lovely hosts,” my dad drawls. “They probably have no rooms to spare. I know it would be far too much trouble and expense to put us up, so we’ll find somewhere in the city.”

The king straightens, taken aback by the affront to his hospitality. “Of course you and your wife may stay here, if you so desire.”

“Thanks,” my dad says, “but we’ll make other arrangements. We know we can be a hassle.” Raising his glass to the monarch, he takes a deep swig.

Darius purples. As much as I know it would peeve him to host my parents, their refusal seems to anger him more. It’s like someone told my parents how important hospitality is here just so they could insult the king.

“We only want to ensure your comfort,” Damon says smoothly. “Let us know if you require any assistance in finding suitable accommodations.”

My dad grunts, then fiddles with his glass. I think he’s disappointed that he couldn’t get Darius to explode in anger. My mom purses her lips in a pout. I’m sure she wanted to stay at the palace, and is upset that whatever plan they were trying to implement backfired.

“I have a new story for you, Gracie.” My dad flicks a spoon so that it spins under one finger. “Remember Jack, my old partner? Well, I almost had to pull a knife on him the other week. He tried to rob me, can you believe it?”

From what little I know about my father’s life, I do.

My mom elbows him in the ribs. “Now’s not the time for that. Grace, tell me, where can I find the new Gucci purse? The nice one, with pink crocodile leather. They don’t have them in the States yet, and Amber Jameson would just die if I came back with one on my arm.”

I grit my teeth, trying to ignore my forming headache. “That’s great, Mom, but how much does it cost?”

“Only 32,” she says evasively.

“32 what?”

“Oh. 32,000.”

“32,000 what? Not dollars, surely.”

“Somewhere around there.”

“You could buy cars for that, Mom. Multiple cars. Nice cars!”

“Well, I just thought it’d be fun.” She sighs, smearing food around her plate.

“What do you need another purse for, anyway? What’s wrong with the one you have now?” I point to the bag at her feet.

“It’s not a shoulder bag, is it? Do you want me to be unfashionable?”

I want her to be somewhere else, but I don’t tell her that. Setting two fingers to my throbbing temple, I think about the black credit card that Damon gave me. It would almost be worth it to buy her this one thing. Maybe then she’d leave me alone. I push my plate aside. No. Then she’d want more, more, more. And she’d sigh and wheedle and whine until she used every last cent of Damon’s available credit.

“I’m not asking you for the money,” she says, “but I’d love if you would think about it.”

I’m sure she would.

Sarina leans over, whispering something to Darius. The king rises. “Thank you all for joining us this evening. Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow, I’m so glad you could join us. It was … educational.”

It’s highly unusual to end a dinner after the fourth course, barring times of war or crisis. But I guess my parents are crisis enough. I’m not sure if I want to slink out of the room in shame, or celebrate that they’ll soon be asked to leave.

My dad raises his glass one last time before draining it. “Invite us back any time.”

I see the king suppress a shudder.

“What, no dessert?” My mom doesn’t even bother to keep her voice down. “What kind of establishment is this?”

The monarchs rise, exiting swiftly, and I can’t blame them. I’m sure I’ll get chewed out for this fiasco later.

Throwing surreptitious glances around the hall, my mom swipes her silverware into her purse.

“Mom! Put that back!” I hope no one hears my harsh whisper.

She swings her bag onto the crook of her elbow. “No one noticed, dear.”

“I noticed!”

“No one else will miss it. How many forks do you think they have in a place like this, anyway? Must be thousands.” She waves a hand airily.

“They know exactly how many forks they have, because they count them every day. None of the servants are going to risk their steady paychecks over a few pieces of shiny metal, so who do you think they’ll suspect, Mom? Do you want to be invited back, or not?”

Rolling her eyes, my mom digs the silverware out of her purse and drops them on the table, letting them clang. “There. Happy now?”

“Not as happy as if you hadn’t stolen them in the first place, but it’s an improvement.”

“What does your middle initial stand for, Dramatic?” my mom snaps.

I wish. It would be a vast improvement over Desiree. Changing my name is going to be my top priority once Damon and I finally get married.

“Grace?” My prince appears at my arm. “Is everything all right?”

I watch my parents amble into the main hall. “I’m okay. Just trying to keep my mom from stealing everything that isn’t nailed down.” I feel queasy as my parents pass out of sight. “Actually, we’d better keep an eye on them.”

Damon and I follow at a distance as my parents inspect the main hall, craning their necks to take in the vaulted ceiling. I watch their hands very carefully.

I turn my mom’s attempted theft over in my mind. Can I really be so mad at her? I entered Damon’s life by stealing his car, after all. But no. It’s different now. My parents were invited here as the guests of the Lion family. Really, they’re my guests. Mine and Damon’s, as we’ll soon be sharing everything. He’s my fiancé, not my mark. Of course, that’s probably all they see in him.

My stomach sinks. And probably all they see in me.

I warned Damon about this. If they don’t go now, things will only get worse. I squeeze his hand. “I think we need to ask my parents to leave.”

“The palace?”

“The hemisphere.”

He gives me a long look. “They are your parents, Grace.”

“They’d leave forever and never speak to me again if you dangled ten dollars in front of them.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“Try it.”

“All right.” He sighs. “I’ll ask them to meet me in my study. You know where that is, don’t you?”

I shake my head.

“It’s at the end of that hall. There are multiple rooms, connected by doors. I’ll take them to the outer room, so stand behind the inner door and leave it open a crack. I’ll take care of the rest.”

I look at him with newfound respect. “I didn’t know you were so skilled in espionage.”

“Anything for you, my dear. But, Grace … are you sure you want me to do this?”

I’m not, but I nod anyway. I don’t know what exactly Damon has in mind, but it would be nice to know if my parents actually care about me.

“Go now. I’ll fetch your parents.”

I run down the hall, my heart pounding against my ribs. Slipping into the study, I find the inner room and get behind the door. I leave the barest crack open. Hopefully I can still hear them.

The wait seems like forever, but I finally hear voices in the dark. A light flickers on in the outer room, and a golden glow seeps under my door. Pressing my eye to the crack, I see Damon sweep into the room and stand behind an impressive desk.

“I told you we could talk here,” he says.

“I’m going to talk first, Prince.” My dad takes a seat, resting his feet on the polished desk. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“You never asked my permission, did you?”

“Permission for what, sir?”

My dad nudges my mom. “Did you get a load of that? He called me ‘sir.’” He snickers. “Anyway, I would think you’d have better manners than that. Or are you so high and mighty that you don’t have to ask a father for his daughter’s hand in marriage?”

What the hell? I’m tempted to storm in there and throttle my father myself.

Damon fixes a smile on his lips. “I wasn’t aware that Grace desired me to do so. But if it would please you, I’d love your blessing.”

“You don’t need my blessing, boy.” My father shakes a finger at Damon. “You need my permission. What are you willing to do to get it?”

The prince’s smile never wavers. “I think we’re both aware that I don’t need your permission, and your blessing is optional. Grace and I are about to form a new family. The question is not whether you condone it, but whether you’d like to be a part of it.”

My mom glares daggers at my dad. “Of course you have our blessing, Damien. Grace is important to us, isn’t she, Rex?”

“Yeah,” my dad grumbles. “She sure knows how to pick ’em.”

I hold back a laugh. I can tell he’s furious that Damon’s not a doormat.

“We all have our differences, don’t we?” The prince smiles magnanimously. “I have a proposition for you. Unorthodox as it is, I think it will help us all get along.”

My parents lean forward so far that I’m afraid they’ll fall out of their seats.

“I have decided that it might be easier for all of us if you didn’t see her or speak to her again. Of course, I wouldn’t leave you with nothing for your trouble. I’m offering you ten million dollars.”