Royally Endowed (Royally, #3)

by Emma Chase

I meant it when I said I would die for her . . . and right now, it feels like I am.

But if I had a choice, if I could assemble a brother from the ground up, I would build the man sitting across from me right now.

I would probably become a meth-head if it weren’t for the rotting-teeth, ruined-life, most-likely-dying-by-overdose elements of it all. I’m a high school senior, not an asshole.

Marty McFly Ginsberg isn’t just our employee—he’s my and Livvy’s big brother from another mother. If our mother were black, Jewish, gay and cool as shit. Marty’s the bomb-dot-com.

Bosco is our shih-tzu-Chihuahua mix. He’s not exactly guard dog material—unless his plan is to startle intruders to death with his so-hideous-he’s-cute face. And if a burglar happens to try stealing hot dogs from the fridge, he’ll never make it out alive. Bosco would rip a throat out for a hot dog.

“So it’s like a . . . you jump, I jump, Jack and Rose kind of thing?” “No.” I take her hand in mine, brushing my thumb against her knuckles. “You jump . . . and I’ll be there to catch you.”

Sarah fidgets with the diamond engagement ring on her finger. “I’m just afraid that I’ll humiliate myself. That I’ll embarrass all of you.” And Prince Nicholas is back. “You still don’t get it. There’s nothing you could do—literally nothing—that Henry hasn’t already done to embarrass us.” He shrugs. “We’re immortal; we’re immune.” Henry looks at his brother. “You’re enjoying this too much.” Nicholas’s green eyes practically dance. “I am, I know. I should try and stop, but I just can’t.”

“You need curtains,” I say. “I don’t have walls.” I laugh. “Curtains make a house a home, Logan. They’re the eyebrows of a house. Have you ever seen how freaky someone looks with no eyebrows? You don’t want to do that to this place—all the other houses will make fun of it.”

What I do know, what I’m sure of, is that I would die for Ellie. Kill for her, live for her. The vow echoes through me with every beat of my heart. She is the most important person in my life. She has been from the beginning, and she always will be. There will never be another. I don’t know if I’ll be any fucking good at love. I’m not quite sure how it’s done. But, for her, I’ll learn. And I’ll do my damnedest to get it right.

“I burn for you, sweet girl. I dream of you, even when I’m awake.”

Love isn’t a cure; it doesn’t magically solve every problem. But it makes solving those problems worth it. Love is our inspiration, our motivation . . . and our reward.