Before we could knock, the front door swung open. The man I met at the farmer’s market stood on the other side, his smile welcoming and his eyes kind. “Katarina, I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
He used my full name. I didn’t want to be Katarina. Katarina was haunted by the ghosts of her father’s choices. Katie baked brownies in kitchens and tasted the lips of a prince. I just wanted to be Katie.
I held out the rest of the brownies. “They’re nowhere as delicious as the strawberries you gave me, but it was the best I could do.” He accepted the gift with a polite thank you, and an uncomfortable heat crept up my neck when his hand brushed mine—the kind that made me want to curl up and hide inside my own skin.
Wait. Did he say he wasn’t sure I would come?
My eyes narrowed in on him. “How did you know I was coming?”
He paused and for a moment, his jaw tight as he searched my eyes. “I invited you at the farmer’s market, remember?” he said finally. That was true. He did invite me to visit any time, but something about the way he looked at me triggered my Spidey senses. He opened the door all the way and stepped to the side. “Why don’t you come in? We have so much to talk about.”
We can start with why you’re sending anonymous threats to the king.
A strange awareness washed over me the minute I stepped inside the house. It looked the same, had the same Tuscan gold painted walls and rich brown floors. The same antiqued bronze light fixtures lit the open space. The wide staircase led to the same loft that overlooked the large living area. I’d walked through this door a thousand times, but this one felt different. This time I felt like a stranger.
Jonathon walked past me and across the living room to a wooden bar on the other side of the room. That’s new. Dad never drank. Neither did Mama. And the only time I did was when Chelsea and I cleansed our souls with a bottle of wine.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked as he reached for a bottle of whiskey and a glass. I shook my head, and he smiled. This one was nowhere near as comforting as the one he offered when I met him the first time. “Have a seat,” he continued, nodding toward the sofa.
I ignored his request. A million questions hovered at the tip of my tongue, so I plucked one out of the air and prayed for answers. “Why did you buy this farm?”
Jonathon and Keaton locked eyes. My heart rate picked up speed as some sort of private conversation bounced between them. The muscles in Keaton’s jaw flexed, but he remained silent.
My gaze bounced from Keaton to Jonathon then back to Keaton as they spoke in their silent code language. “Wait. Do the two of you know each other? Is that how he knew I was coming? Did you tell him? Are we even here about the email or was that all a lie?” I tried to control my breathing, but my questions flew out in frantic bursts anyway.
Please be wrong. Listen to him. He’ll tell you it’s a weird coincidence, that’s all.
Tension flooded the air, skittering across my skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps on my flesh. I rubbed my hand over my bare arms then up to my collarbone, where my fingertips fidgeted with the silver cross.
“Keaton?” My voice cracked.
Jonathon crossed the room and handed Keaton a glass of whiskey. The gesture was familiar and intimate, the way two old friends would be. Keaton took a sip then tucked one hand in his pocket, appearing not to have a care in the world. My heart twisted into a knot as his eyes caught mine. “There’s something you don’t know about me.” I watched the words leave his lips, bracing myself for the inevitable blow. “My last name is Valetta.”
Valetta. As in the capital of Torryn? Keaton Valetta. What did that have to do with this man and our farm, and why did I not know that until now? Because you wanted casual, remember?
Jonathon strolled back to the other side of the living room, casually resting his butt against the wooden bar. “The Valetta and Bellizzi families are two of the oldest and most respected families in this country. If you joined forces against the king, think of what the two of you could do together. Think of the power you would have.”
What in the actual fork? He was talking about joining forces and gaining power. He spoke as though we… they… could overthrow the king. The king! He was talking like it had already been all worked out, like it was the most sensible thing in the world.
It’s bonkers.
They’d lost their minds.
Keaton pulled his hand from his pocket and stood up straight. “Jonathon bought the farm so you and your mother would have a safe place to stay after your dad died. But the king fucked it all up by taking you to Thornebridge Castle, so we had to find another way. We thought he would tuck you away somewhere. Hide you. Punish you for what your father started. But when I saw you in the library, I knew it had to be fate.”
“So, this whole time you knew exactly who I was?” His cold gaze snapped up to mine. I knew affirmation when I saw it, and the truth was written all over his face. My stomach plummeted. “Oh God, you did. You were using me. It was never real.” This was it. This was my punishment for my father’s sins—a life of secrets and lies and moments that felt real but never could be.
Oh my God, what if I’d been pregnant? I forced back the bile rising in my throat.
“It was real. It was very fucking real.” He watched me with an intensity that made me shiver. “It still is. Now that you’re over this stupid infatuation with Sutton Thorne—”
Is that what he thought he walked in on? An infatuation?
“Sutton has nothing to do with this.”
“Oh, but he does. That little fling with the prince almost fucked up this whole operation.” His eyes grew darker. Stronger. Scarier. “I can’t let that happen again, Katie. I won’t let it happen again.”
I lifted my chin. “You’re out of your minds.”
He laughed. “We know the king is dying. It’s only a matter of time. When he does, before his son has a chance to take the throne, it will belong to us. He won’t even know what hit him.”
A man was dying, a son was losing his father, and all he thought about was what he could take from them. Keaton was a monster. Manipulating and ruthless.
I swallowed shame. I slept with that monster.
Jonathon chuckled beside us as if the idea of King Phillipe’s death amused him. I was an idiot for ever thinking he was a decent human. At least Keaton had his alarming good looks and fantastic penis to camouflage the evil underneath. This guy fooled me with a container of strawberries and a smile. He swirled the amber liquid around his glass then took another drink.
I understood Keaton’s words even though they sounded completely foreign. Take the throne? How in the world did they expect to do that?
“There’s no way you’ll ever pull this off,” I scoffed.
Keaton finished off his whiskey in one long swallow then set his glass on a nearby table. “Matteo Bellizzi was a good man. A lot of people out there respected him. Adored him.”
He gathered people… thousands of them… to fight with him. Sutton was telling the truth. The bile rose again. It was harder to fight down this time.
“Followed him,” I continued, my breath no louder than a whisper.
“Followed him,” Keaton repeated, and my heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. “We have an army already, an army your father raised. Thousands ready to fight for our cause.”