Ruthless Noble by Alley Ciz
CHAPTER 6
“Yo, Mini Royal, vámonos,”Cisco shouts from downstairs.
I double-check my bag, flipping the flap closed, and slide my inhaler into the inside pocket of my uniform blazer, almost annoyed I have to keep it on my person.
I would have said a week away from the BA world with Tinsley as my only connection to avoid falling behind on coursework sounded like heaven. Too bad the reality didn’t live up to the expectations.
For the past six days, I’ve thought, I’ve mused, I’ve straight up asked how the hell Carter managed to get permission for me to stay with him after I was discharged from the hospital. Did I get any answers? Nope.
Actually…
If I stop and really consider things, his behavior has been…weird. More so than when he insisted I not fight Natalie on enrolling me as a St. James at BA. We’ve always been close, more friends than siblings despite our age gap, but it almost feels like he’s avoiding me.
We’ve had a grand total of one full conversation, and that centered around me telling him how Natalie was all “This engagement is real, act like it or else.” Even without knowing exactly what Natalie is threatening me with, Carter still suggested it might be best for me to play along.
I think it’s a legit possibility I’ve seen him less now than after I moved out.
Sure, there was some hovering and constant—borderline annoyingly so—wellness checks to see how I was feeling and making sure I was doing everything the doctors said to do. And yes, he was the one to go with me to my appointment with my pulmonologist to see if my medications needed to be adjusted. But I swear, all the time in between, he was just…not there.
Ugh! I don’t have time for…all this. Not for thoughts of my weirdly distant brother or my psychotic mother.
Flipping the light off, I grab my lapels, tugging and straightening as I trudge down the stairs, only stopping when I meet Cisco at the bottom. There’s a playful smirk dancing on his lips as his teeth fiddle with the ring pierced through the corner of the bottom one. I give him my best scowl and Do I really have to go to school? nose scrunch.
“Come on, guera.” He takes my bag from me and hooks an arm over my shoulders, tucking me close and leading me stomping begrudgingly toward the door.
“Don’t you have to open the garage?” I ask, the door beeping as we exit the residence section of the building. Unlike the private bays—three cars wide and about five cars deep—we’re currently crossing, there’s a full-service body shop/auto garage located at the back of the lot.
“I did,” Cisco assures me, keeping his steps slower, stride shorter than it would have been a week ago. “I left one of Papa’s old guys in charge while I see you off to school.”
Unlike Lance, the other non–founding family Royal, Cisco hails from Blackwell. Whereas Lance earned his place by defending my brother, Cisco found his when his father decided to take Carter under his wing instead of calling the cops when he caught him trying to boost cars from him.
Sixteen-year-old Carter King wasn’t necessarily the crown jewel he is today, but desperation doesn’t necessarily breed the smartest solutions. If Nonna Falco ever found out about how he tried to handle things, she would whoop his ass with her slipper…or a wooden spoon.
But who did he need to make those questionable decisions for, hmm?
I ignore the guilt-inducing question from my conscience and remind myself how well things worked out. Cisco joined the Royals. He and Carter mentored with and eventually took over Marco Cruz’s auto garage and exotic car rental business. While Cisco is the one who primarily runs it, it’s the same artistic talent that brings people from all over for tattoos from Carter that made them expand into the custom bodywork side of the business.
See?I say to that annoying inner voice. It all worked out.
It isn’t until we pass Cisco’s Hellcat that how he phrased things clicks inside my brain.
“Wait…” I stop walking, Cisco stumbling as my body weight holds him back. “See me off to school?” I point over to the Hellcat, its matte black paint pristine under the fluorescent lights. “You’re not driving me?”
He’s the only one still around. Tessa’s on her way to school, Lance is at morning skate, Carter and Wes have class, and Leo is working at city hall with Chuck. Is Daniel picking me up? Guess that means it really is back to reality.
Cisco holds the door open for me, and I step out into the slightly chilly morning. Reflecting sunlight causes me to squint and pull my Ray-Bans from the top of my head and over my eyes. Once I can see without being blinded, I continue toward the waiting car, only to come to another halt.
The color is right, the silver paint job damn near reflective with its high-gloss shine. Except…
The vehicle is wrong—allwrong.
Instead of a Bentley, a gleaming G Wagon with spinning 22s idles a few feet away.
“What’s he doing here?” If it were possible to glare from your fingertip, that’s exactly what my finger would be doing; my point is that aggressive.
Cisco fiddles with his lip ring again, the black metal spinning in a slow circle around his lip. I narrow my eyes, envisioning pinching the piercing between my fingers and tugging like one would a misbehaving child’s ear.
These assholes knew about this. It’s yet another time the Royals cut me out of the conversation—one that involves me—and made decisions. Without. Me.
Jesus Christ. Is this why Carter treated me like I was contagious and not recovering from an asthma attack? He didn’t want to be the one to tell me how I would have to play into this charade?
“You needed a ride, reyna.”He shrugs like it’s no big deal when it’s anything but.
“Don’t you dare pull that queen shit with me right now.” His nose smooshes down as I poke him. “You don’t get to act like I’m one of you when you clearly don’t believe it.”
Anger pulses inside me, and I pull a concentrated breath in through my nose and push it out through my mouth. I will not be triggered this early in the morning, goddammit.
Remorse sobers Cisco’s expression as he stares down at me, and I swear to god, if that’s pity in his gaze, I’m going to knee him in the balls. He takes me by the shoulders, pulling me around until we’re face to face, his hands curling over me, fingers fiddling with the collar of my blazer.
“You are one of us, Savs.” I scoff, and his mouth presses into a flat line. “You are.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Francisco.” My lips twitch at the way his eyes go flat. He hates his full name as much as I do mine. My chin brushes against his knuckles as I glance back at the Mercedes.
“Stop being a brat,” he scolds, lifting a finger to tap my chin and bring my focus back to him. “You know how your brother worries.” Yeah, too much. “You needed a ride, and we need to find ways to make the Momster think you—we—are playing her little marriage game so she doesn’t stop you from being allowed to hang out.”
The thought alone makes me nauseous.
“Besides…” Cisco jerks his chin behind me. “It could have been worse.”
“How’s that?” I ask in a droll monotone.
“You could be forced to ride to school with the asshat who bragged about riding you.”
I suck in a startled breath, the blood in my veins turning to ice as the rest of me flushes hot, my hair standing on end, my skin itching in indignation.
“What did you just say?” I growl.
“Aw, how cute.” Cisco boops me on the nose. “Being all growly must be a King trait.” I smack his hand away, not at all in the mood for his jokes when I need clarification.
“No, no.” My chest grows tight, and I rub at it, closing my eyes and breathing through it. After a beat, I peel them open and meet his gaze. “Explain.”
Cisco grips the back of his neck, glancing to the left, no longer meeting my eye. I let out another sound of frustration, and the center of Cisco’s cheek indents as if he’s biting it before he releases his neck to pat me on the head as if I’m a growling puppy.
We stand there, me doing my best to hold on to a mad I don’t quite feel and him trying to hide how amusing he finds me. It’s one of the downfalls of people knowing you from your carried-a-stuffed-dragon-around-everywhere phase in life.
The sound of a car door slamming reminds us we aren’t alone, that this isn’t another “brother/sister” quarrel we’re familiar with. Once again, an arm drops around my shoulders, and I’m tucked back against Cisco’s side.
I could be annoyed that he’s going all “big brother protector” on me, and while all the Royals—except for Wes—are guilty of doing so, that’s not what this is. This is a show of solidarity. A display of Royalty unity. A reminder that you mess with one Royal, you mess with all of the Royals.
Duke swaggers around the front of his six-figure vehicle, his familiar playboy flirt smirk tilting his lips, hands casually shoved into the pockets of his uniform slacks. He doesn’t approach us, instead opening the passenger side door, hand curling over the top of the frame as he leans against it.
“You ready to go…” Duke pauses, licking his lips and full-on smiling, his baby blues twinkling in amusement before finishing with, “Babe?”
My hackles rise. Yeah, that shit is not gonna fly.
“I need your tire iron,” I mumble to Cisco, who drops his head to mine to smother his laughter.
“No dice, Savage.” Cisco grips one of my lapels and fluffs it. “It’ll be a nightmare trying to get blood out of cashmere.”
I snort, smashing my lips to the side like I’m contemplating if it would be worth the effort. Probably not.
“Fine.” I sigh.
“Good girl.” Cisco lifts my bag from his shoulder and settles the strap on my own while I battle with the urge to smack him. His deep chuckle tells me he knows exactly where my thoughts went again. I’m sure he said that on purpose to distract me.
“Now go to school.” With a hand pressed to my back, he guides me forward a step or two. “Learn all the things and try not to maim any BAssholes.”
“I make no promises,” I mutter as I start toward Duke.
“Of course not.” There’s another deep chuckle and a “Bye, Savs” before I catch sight of Cisco heading for the garage.
The flirt factor from Duke only intensifies as I get closer, and he drags a hand through the air in a semicircle like a game show host. “Your chariot awaits, Princess.”
I stop just outside of touching distance, frowning at the use of that particular nickname.
“What?” Duke steps into the opening of the door. “I think the nickname fits you even more now that we know you’re a King.” He arches a brow and levels me with a look. “Don’t you think…Savvy?”
“You’re annoying, you know that?” I huff, still not moving closer.
He gives me a Whatcha gonna do? shrug. “You’ll get used to it. We are betrothed after all.”
I ball my hands into fists, my nails making my palms sting. “Don’t tell me you’re on board with this plan.”
It’ll be exponentially harder to fight Natalie’s apparent insanity if I’m the only one trying to do so. As much as I don’t want to “make nice,” Duke could be a formidable ally. Dammit. Now I’ll have to admit Carter and Cisco might have had a point about playing along.
“I mean…” Duke rocks back on his heels. “At least you’re hot.”
“Thanks,” I deadpan. Of course he’s thinking with his dick.
“Don’t act like you wouldn’t enjoy having a piece of this.” He waves his hands down the length of his body, a body we both know is in shape and makes the other girls at school drool with the way his uniform fits. “I would rock your world, baby.”
I roll my eyes. So cocky. “Not interested.”
“Shame.” He winks and hooks a thumb at the open door behind him. “You getting in or what?”
I purse my lips, giving an I’m still debating face scrunch.
“What if—” He reaches an arm into the cab, body stretching, uniform shirt tugging tight against his muscular back as if to say See? I’m hot. Look at all these muscles you could lick. I don’t know how he does it, but I get the impression only Duke Delacourte is capable of having his body project cocky charm for him.
I hear him shuffling around with something before he straightens, a familiar paper cup in hand when he does. “—I offer you a bribe.”
I bounce my gaze between him and the cartoon rendition of Harry Potter. “You’re giving off creepy man with a van vibes.”
Duke palms the cup in his hands, swinging it side to side. “Hey there, little girl…” His tone takes on a lascivious quality that has creepy-crawlies dancing down my spine while at the same time making me choke on a laugh. “Wanna go for a ride?” He adds an exaggerated eyebrow waggle. “I have candy,” he singsongs.
That does it, and I give in to the urge to laugh. Duke is ridiculous, and while I feel like I’ll never be able to admit it, in the week before engagement-gate, I actually had fun eating lunch with him.
There are two more seconds of stubborn hesitation before the draw of Lyle’s java goodness is too great to ignore, and I’m reaching for the cup. “You didn’t poison it, did you?” I ask as the nutty aroma of pecan hits my senses.
Duke barks out a laugh, dropping a hand to my back and guiding me to get in the car. “No.” He backs away as soon as I’m settled into the seat. “I value my life too much.”
Ah, yes, the Carter King effect. The girl capable of tricking you into eating rat as revenge isn’t a threat at all. But, oh no, find out that girl is related to the Carter King—yeah, now she’s off-limits. Yes, I know it doesn’t make sense that I’m annoyed, but come on. Jasper may call me Princess, but I don’t need saving. I’m a queen. I’ve got this shit. It shouldn’t take my connection to a man to make me a formidable opponent.
With a huff, I click my seat belt in and wait for Duke to make his way back to the driver’s seat while Billie Eilish sings about burying a friend.
Blowing across the lid, I take a cautious sip. I get another wink from Duke after he catches sight of the surprise written across my face when I discover it’s made to my exact specifications.
“I told the barista who it was for, and after he had the good sense to flirt with me”—his implied unlike some people as clear as day—“he assured me he knew your order.”
I take another sip to hide my smile at the image of Lyle flirting with Duke, disappointed I missed out on it. I bet that was something to witness given Lyle’s shameless nature. I don’t know if Duke is eighteen yet or not, but I need to remember to have Tessa tease Lyle for his cradle-robbing, jailbait-flirting ways.
Snapping a quick pic of my cup, I shoot off a text to my brother.
ME: If this BAsshole didn’t show up with my favorite coffee, I would be taking a detour to BTU to kick your ass.
As if he was waiting for me to reach out, my phone pings with a text almost immediately.
BRO KING: It was a tactical move, and you can’t be kicking anyone’s ass right now, remember? You’re supposed to be TAKING IT EASY! So chill. Drink your coffee, go to school, USE your inhaler BEFORE you HAVE to use it, and relax. We’ll figure this shit out, promise.
ME: *GIF of Anna Kendrick saluting* But you don’t have to yell. I can HEAR your tone from here.
BRO KING: Good. Now, if only you’d LISTEN.
ME: 50/50.
BRO KING: Those odds seem a little high, but I’ll take it. Love you.
With a message confirming I love his overprotective, bossy ass back, I click my phone locked and slide it into the side of my knee-high boot.
“Were you talking to Red?” Duke jerks his chin at my phone, asking about Tessa while keeping his eyes on the road.
I shake my head. “My brother.”
“Oooo.” Hands draped over the steering wheel at the wrists, Duke dances in his seat. “And what did Daddy King say this morning?”
My face scrunches in disgust. “Eww. Can you not call him that?” I mime gagging. Gross.
“Spoilsport.”
I take another sip of coffee and lean against the door. “You have issues.”
“You’re just not used to all this awesomeness.” He shimmies his shoulders, that easy camaraderie growing between us and confusing the hell out of me.
“Why’d you want to know if I was talking to Tess?” I ask as he slows to a stop behind a school bus.
“I was going to have you tell her hi for me if you were.”
This guy doesn’t get it. No matter how many times I try to warn him away from her, it doesn’t stick. “Why would I do that?”
Still waiting for the students to finish boarding the bus, Duke turns to face me, a big, brilliant, all-the-ladies-love-me smile on his face. “We”—he bounces a finger between us—“may be betrothed.” Now it’s his eyebrows doing the bouncing up and down. “But since you’re smashing my best friend, I figured yours is fair game.”
That earlier frisson of anger when Cisco made a similar insinuation works its way through my system. What the fuck? Jasper’s just going around telling people? Oh hell no.