Part 6 (1/2)
”Sebi,” she asked, her voice growing wary, ”what is wrong?”
”Oh, haven't you heard? I've been effectively disowned.”
”What!?” she said, a string of French swearwords pouring out of her. ”What happened? What did you do?!”
”Why do you a.s.sume I did something?”
”Sebi,” she growled.
”I poked the bear,” he admitted with a murmur.
”Sebi . . . what did you say that got Father to disown you?”
”That I did not want to be King. And do you know what he said? He said good, Anton would be King. Anton, Anastasia. Anton!”
”Wait, what?! Okay, hold on a second.” He heard her pull the phone away from her ear and start talking to someone else. If he had to guess he'd say Roman had just entered the room.
When she returned he started talking, relaying the whole story of his morning. ”And then, he checked us out of the hotel. We had to leave.”
”Well where are you now?” she asked, sounding a bit worried.
”We're staying at the emba.s.sy's suite; though if I didn't have Sergei, I'd be out on the street.”
”If you didn't have Sergei you'd probably have been disowned years ago.”
”True,” Sebastian agreed.
”Roman wants to know when you're coming home.”
”Not soon. Not now.”
”Well if not now, then when? You're not just going to run and hide are you?”
”I have less than three months to find a bride and get married,” Sebastian said.
”Yes,” his sister agreed, though in a patently slow voice that could not hide she thought he'd been struck dumb. ”And don't you think you need to come to Sezynia to find one.”
”No,” he replied. ”I have a better chance here. Father's influence is too thick there.”
”This is about James Dean again, isn't it?” Anastasia said, annoyed. ”Sebi, you are not James Dean. You need to stop living your life recklessly and with bikes and leather and att.i.tudes. Come home! Father will kill you if you marry an American, you know this, right?”
”Who cares,” he murmured in rebellion, his hackles rising at her tone. ”I don't want or need his approval. And marrying a countryman didn't really engender him to your choice, did it Ana?”
She started to speak but he cut her off. ”No, I am staying. Give Mother my love. And keep an eye on Anton for me. If he or Prince Vlad knows what Father plans to do, they will become impossible. If they aren't the ones behind it.”
His sister didn't speak for a moment and Sebastian wondered if she had hung up on him and his impertinent tone. ”You never wanted to be King before Sebi. And Anton was your best friend.”
”Was Ana. All of it past tense. Anton cannot win. He does not win!”
”Okay Sebi. My love to you,” she murmured quietly.
”And to you.”
Chapter 7.
Lane barged into the loft without so much as a knock. ”What have you done for yourself today?” she demanded as she threw down her purse and grabbed an apple.
”Nothing. But yesterday I slept with a Prince,” Kat answered dryly, still amazed that it was true.
Lane just rolled her eyes and gave her best friend a put upon look. ”A little less sarcasm, please.” They stared at each other until a slightly self-conscious smile grew on Kat's face. ”You're serious? You got laid last night? Shut the Front Door!”
”Shut the front door? Really?”
”I'm trying to swear less. I made my mother a fu . . . stupid bet that I could stop swearing in time for her annual tea. If I make it through the whole day 'clean' then she won't make me go anymore and will give up trying to make me cultured. But that is so f.u.c.king off topic.”
Kat opened her mouth to speak but didn't get a chance. ”If it isn't Foul-Mouthed Barbie.” Lane didn't even turn around at Blaze's comment, just flipped him off over her shoulder. ”What, no string of profanity-laced comebacks? Are your batteries dying?”
Lane whipped around and a smile appeared on her face. ”Like, OMG, it's like totally, like, Cliche Ken! Tell me Mr. h.o.m.os.e.xual Artist Man, what is it, like, like, to like, be like, a 'starving artist' because it, like, looks, like, super hard. I mean, like, you so don't even, like, have that starving part down. You must have gained, like, like five pounds, since, like, the last, like, time I saw you. Don't' worry, you'll, like, so get it right eventually. Like, totally. I have faith in you.”
”If it wasn't laced with cruelty I'd say you walked right off of a California Beach. Way to blend in NYC. Which, by the way, what the h.e.l.l are you wearing?” Blaze replied, grabbing the apple from in front of Lane and rolling it towards him. She was too slow to stop him and he bit into it with relish.
”What's wrong with what I'm wearing?” she asked, dropping the valley girl accent for her much drier, New York tone.
”Honey, look at you. Pink and purple bubble skirt, ridiculously flowered and tiered blouse, those sandals that even call girls trip in. The bug sungla.s.ses, the platinum hair, the huge purse. If a teacup poodle's in there I'd say Paris Hilton ate you up and spit you out.”
She pointed a serious finger at him. ”Hey, you know the hair's real.” Blaze held up his hands in acknowledgement.
”I just love how you two get along,” Kat murmured with a roll of her eyes.
”He started it,” Lane whispered.
”He started it,” Blaze mimicked back to her.
Lane crossed the room and stopped in front of the stool he was perched on. They looked at each other a bit wearily before she grabbed his face and pulled it towards her, laying a hard kiss on his mouth. ”Anything?” she asked a minute later when they parted.
”Nothing.”
”Eh, what do you know? You don't even check out my a.s.s when I walk away. I have a great f.u.c.king a.s.s.” She turned towards Kat with a raised eyebrow.
”True. Though mine is better,” Blaze said, biting into the apple again. ”Did Kat tell you about her royal escapade yet?”
”No juicy details have been spilled. I'm gonna be able to retire before I hear this d.a.m.n story, aren't I?”
”Simmer down there sister. No need to swear.” Lane rolled her eyes but Kat just smiled.
”Here, this guy. She slept with this guy.” Blaze handed over his phone.