And unfortunately, her troubles aren’t confined to the four-legged variety.
Beatrice has made headlines for dating an art thief, vacationing with a billionaire only she didn’t realize was married, and breaking her nose giving a blow job to a rock star who relayed the anecdote to Rolling Stone during an interview.
Now “Pulling a Beatrice” is urban slang for injuring oneself during sex.
And her terrible taste in men must still be in full effect. The only way Bea could have scored an invite to this resort during Stefano’s private island party is as someone’s plus-one. Which means she must be dating a very bad man.
Cluelessly, no doubt.
Beatrice only sees the best in people. No matter how many times she’s caught in the rain, she only notices the silver lining, not the cloud.
“Hello there, Bea,” I say, wheels still spinning as I arrive at the table and toss my towel over the empty chair. “What a lovely surprise.”
But of course, it isn’t.
Bea’s presence isn’t only bad for Bea, it’s bad for Zan and me, as well. Soon, everyone at the resort will know Zan’s true identity and that I’m here with my sister-in-law, the princess, and not some random blonde.
But it’s too late to change course now. Zan and I have to continue to pretend to be lovers, despite fate dropping a family member into the mix.
I don’t hesitate to lean down and brush my lips against Zan’s, whispering, “Missed you at the beach, beautiful,” before settling into my chair.
“Missed you, too,” Zan says, a convincingly smitten warmth in her gaze as she adds, “As you can see, our secret is out.”
She motions to Beatrice, who is beaming so brightly glitter is practically shooting out of her eyeballs.
“Oh, Nicky. This is so wonderful! I’m thrilled for you two,” Bea gushes in her breathy voice. “I would never have put the two of you together, but now it makes complete sense. You’re perfect! Salt and sugar—opposites that complement each other in the best way. Like salted caramel.” She lets out a low moan. “Mmm, so much better than caramel without the salt, right? And I was just telling Zan, I bet your families are thrilled.” She claps her hands excitedly. “And your sisters! It’s going to be so amazing to be married to brothers and stay close as you build families of your own. I confess I’m jealous. I miss Jonah desperately now that he’s so far away.”
“It will be great,” Zan agrees, clearing her throat. “But we…haven’t exactly told our families about us just yet. They don’t know we’re dating. Or that we’re here together.”
Beatrice’s smile dims a watt or two. “They don’t? Why? Are you worried they won’t approve? That it will seem strange for three sisters to marry three brothers?” She reaches out, covering Zan’s smaller hand with her lightly freckled one. “I mean, the tabloids will definitely talk, but you can’t let that stand in the way of true love. Nothing should stand in the way of that. Not ever.”
“We agree,” I cut in. “But Jeffrey and Lizzy have just announced their engagement, and Andrew and Sabrina have been married less than a year. We felt it was best to keep our relationship a secret for now, to ensure our siblings have their full hour in the spotlight.”
“And we just found out that Jeffrey and Lizzy are pregnant. Now. Before the wedding,” Zan adds, wisely directing Beatrice’s attention to something more scandalous than our secret relationship. “Plenty of drama to go around right now without Nick and me piling on.”
Beatrice’s eyes begin to shine as she sits back in her chair, pressing a hand to her chest over her dark green swimsuit cover-up. “Oh, but that’s wonderful news. I’m so happy for Lizzy. I remember playing dolls with her when we were little and how tender she was with her babies. She’s going to be an incredible mother. Just…incredible.” She sniffs and swipes at her cheeks. “Sorry. I’m so broody lately.” She laughs. “I can’t wait to start trying for a baby. But my fiancé wants to wait until we’re married. We’re thinking August. In Capri. Of course, you’re both invited.”
She snaps her fingers. “Which reminds me.” She reaches into the bag by her feet, pulling out a key chain with a small silver circle dangling from it. “I haven’t fed my fur baby.” Her brows furrow as she taps at the small buttons on the device. “Don’t judge me, Zan.”
“I’m not,” Zan insists.
“Yes, you are. I can feel it,” Bea says. “But Stefano and I are having a contest to see who can keep our Digi-Mal alive the longest. I’m winning, and I never win at anything, so I’m determined to stay ahead.”
“Stefano?” Zan echoes thinly. Her fingers curl into a fist on top of the table, assuring me the same alarm is blaring inside her head that’s roaring inside of mine.