“Spit out whatever you came over here to say, Sy,” Dimitri says, arm tightening, “or leave.”
Simon watches us for a moment, face giving nothing away. “We need to know if you’re in for the wrestling match.” Again, his eyes wander over to me. “The deadline was yesterday, but since our houses are…amicable, we wanted to give you notice, considering you’ve been occupied.”
“Wrestling match?” I whisper to Dimitri.
He shakes his head dismissively. “Nah, LDZ isn’t doing the match this year.”
“Is that so?” Simon stares me down, unbothered by the way it makes me tense. “Because there are a lot of rumors going around about your Lady. Bets are already in her favor.”
“Bets?” I say, looking between Tristian and Dimitri. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something important? What does a wrestling match have to do with me?” There should really be a frat event handbook or day planner or something. I’m getting tired of being blindsided.
“It’s just a dumb Royal tradition,” Tristian says, giving me a look. “A bunch of chicks get into a ring and wrestle for a shitty tiara. They call it Screw Year’s Eve, but still try to brand it as some silly charity thing. Nothing you’d want to do, trust me.” When I don’t look convinced, he adds, “Like everything else at Forsyth, even holidays are marked and branded. The Dukes get New Year’s Eve. The Princes, naturally, claim Valentine’s Day.”
Killian scoffs. “Naturally,” and then Simon arches a brow, echoing, “Naturally.”
“The Counts throw a big ass barbeque on the Fourth of July,” Tristian continues.
Dimitri jumps in, “The Barons claimed Halloween.”
“Obviously,” Killian says with a hint of annoyance.
“What about us?” I ask.
“Oh,” Tristian’s face lights up. “We get the big one: Christmas.”
It’s a lot to absorb, and that’s probably Tristian’s point—distraction. I get us back on topic.
“Is this something I’m supposed to do? One of the Lady’s duties?” The three of them don’t respond, so I look at Simon. “Are the other Royal women participating?”
Simon is far more stoic than his brother, glancing at the others before answering. It occurs to me that he’s seeking permission. “Of course they are. The gate goes toward the winning frat’s charity, and Screw Year’s Eve brings in a huge crowd.” His mouth curls up into a dark, lopsided grin. “Don’t tell the Duchess, but all things considered, the Countess is the one to beat. Word on the street is you’ve got beef.”
“You mean Sutton,” I clarify.
“The one and lonely.”
Leaning forward out of Dimitri’s embrace, my interest is piqued. “And I’d have to…wrestle her.”
Simon stares at me. “That’s the plan.”
“Violently.”
Simon’s smile grows, but it’s Killian who answers. “Story, there isn’t any reas—”
Reaching over, I slam the laptop shut. “And you say there’ll be gambling? How much will the winning wrestler get?”
Simon shrugs. “Last year it got up to fifty Gs.”
“Story,” Dimitri says, pitching forward to tuck me back against him. “We’re not going to make you do this.”
“Make me wrestle Sutton in front of all the house royalty?” I stare at him bug-eyed. “Hell, I’d do that for free.”
Simon gestures to me with his cup of coffee. “See? Your girl’s got the spirit.”
“She’s not a girl,” Tristian snaps. “She’s our Lady.”
I cut him a glare. “You’re right. And this is one of my responsibilities. Just because we’ve changed some parameters of my contract doesn’t mean I don’t want to help when I’m supposed to. Especially with the charity work.” And especially when it means pounding my fist into the Cuntess’ face. I still owe her one for kidnapping me and offering me up on a platter to that rapist, Perez. I nod to Simon. “Sign me up.”
He gives me one of those raised chin nods, saying, “Smart Lady,” before sauntering away.
Neither of them look happy.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Tristian says. “I’ll talk to one of the Dukes and get them to take your name off the list.”
“Why?” Hotly, I insist, “It’s for a good cause, and it’ll earn me money. I want to do it!”