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We take a turn that goes away from both the tower and the gym, down toward the old industrial area that’s seen a bit of revitalization over the last few years.

We pass a few shops, including the boutique where Remy buys all of his fantastic boots. The coffee shop next door is new, as is the indie bookstore. I take in all the changes, and Nick pulls up in front of an old building. It’s four stories with a faded brick façade. Across the top, you can still read the muted painted words,The Royal Gazette.

“Are we running a job?” I ask, peering out the window. If Pace or the others find out Nick took me somewhere dangerous, this whole thing is going to blow up fast.

“Nope. Turns out Saul had secrets.” He rolls his eyes as if this wasn’t a surprise at all. He turns off the ignition. By the time Stella and I are on the sidewalk, Ballsack already has our luggage out of the back.

“And this building was one of them?” I ask, trying to follow.

“When Sy became King, everything transferred into his name.” He pulls out a big metal key and shoves it into the lock. “And I meaneverything. Bank accounts, insurance settlements, his university pension, but what no one knew Saul was doing was collecting property like he was Daniel Fucking Payne.” The tall door unlatches with a loud click, then creaks open. “Since Saul had no heirs, at least that we know of,” he gives me a meaningful look, “he specified in his will that his entire estate go to his successor.”

“Holy shit,” I say, processing what that means. The Bruin-Perilini boys grew up modestly. Sure, they had a house and a supportive family, but when their parents walked away from being Dukes, they lost all of their connections. Not just in West End but all of Forsyth. “So Sy owns all of this.”

“Yep. The whole block.” He jerks his chin at Ballsack. “Keep an eye on the door.”

Ballsack nods. “You got it.”

There’s a staircase, but I’m relieved when Nick walks over to an elevator and stabs the up button. The doors open, and Nick grabs both of our suitcases and carries them in.

Once inside, he presses the button for the fourth floor. I grip the handrail as the elevator starts to rise. “Last night, after the negotiations, we had to have a long talk about where you were going to stay during your time in West End. You sure as hell can’t live in the tower. It’s too small; besides the three bedrooms, there’s only the loft. Plus,” he winks at Stella, “I don’t think you and your handmaiden want to see Remy’s junk every morning.”

Stella blushes, and I wrinkle my nose. Remy’s good-looking and everything, but I’ve had enough dicks in my face over the last few months to last a lifetime.

“Mama B wanted you to come back to her place,” he continues, “but Lavinia asked Sy to reconsider.”

I feel an unexpected sense of relief just hearing that. “Wow, seriously?”

“She figured you needed a space of your own.” He shifts, looking at me head-on. I’m not afraid of Nick, but he’s intimidating as hell. The face tattoo and the intensity in his eyes just enhances his attractiveness in a weird way. “Even I can admit that being a Royal woman isn’t easy. We put Lavinia through hell.” His gaze drops to my belly. “I imagine you’ve earned the right to a little privacy.”

The bell chimes, followed by the door opening. We step directly into a wide, expansive space. It’s mid-renovation, but the bones are visible. An open kitchen to the right, and a large living room in the middle. Huge windows look out over three sides, including one massive view toward the river. On the walls, there are some framed bits of yellowing paper, which looking closer, I realize are article clippings.

Gruesomearticles.

“Yeah,” Nick says, jerking his chin at the wall, “Lavinia goes apeshit over all these old newspapers we’ve been digging up.”

I grimace at a front page spread declaringForsyth Carver Slays Another. Below it, I begin reading about some psycho who terrorized the campus a few decades back, but when footsteps echo in another part of the space, I look up to see Lavinia emerging from a hallway.

“You’re here!” She rushes over and pulls me into a hug. “God, I’ve been so worried those little pricks would pull something at the last minute.”

“Things have been a little tense, but I think everyone needed a little space.” I pull back and take in my friend. It’s so good to see her. “Thank you for setting this up.”

“Of course. After…” The thought trails off, and her forehead creases. Whatever she was going to say is changed to, “We had to keep you safe.”

She saw the video. So did Nick and the guys. I know that, and they probably see me differently now, but everything that happened to me in the palace is part of me. I own that.

I give her a tight smile, because, again, there’s no guarantee that I’m not being watched, and walk over to the window. The sunlight streams through, and I feel warmth on my face. “This place is amazing.”

“Apparently, Saul had big plans for this building,” Nick says, slinging his arm around Lavinia’s shoulder. She pushes up on her toes and presses a kiss against the tattoo of her lips on his throat. “For the whole district. Apartments, condos, lofts, offices, retail…” He looks around the cavernous space. “He started here on the top floor. It’s already fitted with plumbing and electrical—enough for a working kitchen and bathroom.”

“Was he going to move in?” As far as I knew, Saul had a penthouse near campus, but it makes sense he’d have other places. Daniel Payne had the Hideaway. Ashby has his club.

“Oh no. This was his hidey-hole for whatever purebred sugar baby he had lined up at the time. A glass case to keep them in.” He looks down at Lav. “Little Bird fell for the place, and we decided to finish the renovation and move in after graduation. You can stay here in the meantime.”

It’s definitely unconventional, but he’s right. Staying at the tower isn’t an option, and the more I think about it, neither is going back home with my mother. This place is bright and airy—I can see why Lavinia likes it. I like it too—it’s the opposite of the palace.

Nick turns to face me, grinning while spreading his arms wide. “Welcome home.”

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