Heavy Crown - Bellerive Royals 3 [Sample]

2. Rory

When I grab the mail from the box, I riffle through it, looking for anything from my parents. We haven't spoken in months, but it would be like my mother to send a birthday card. While my father can hold a grudge forever, my mother is warmer.

Trailing Derrick, my boyfriend from college, back to Bellerive after graduation seemed like the right choice at the time. We'd been dating for a year, and I loved him. A lot. Maybe even the kind of love where you get married. He asked me to move here with him after we spent a magical week in Bellerive, living in his parent's guesthouse, and musing about the future. The world was full of possibilities.

Bellerive would be an adventure, right?

Who wouldn't want to live on an island that still has castles, palaces, and a prominent royal family? The green landscapes, open fields of animals and produce, and cities with an almost fantastical essence appealed to me.

In some ways, I fell in love with the country as much as I did Derrick.

Bellerive also happens to be one of the most expensive places to live on the planet, which I didn't fully comprehend at the time.

There's no card from anyone I know let alone my parents. Sometimes choosing the adventure can be pretty isolating. I climb the stairs to the apartment I share with Derrick in the middle of Tucker's Town. His parents own the studio space but make Derrick and I pay full rent. Maybe it's petty of me to think some sort of family discount should be in order, but every month I'm surprised by the exorbitant cost.

We agreed to work for them at their golf club when we moved to the island. So, it's a constant exchange of money. They pay us; we pay rent. Round and round we go, and most months, they barely pay us enough to survive. When Derrick suggested getting our feet wet in the country under his parents' guidance, I didn't expect them to treat us like cheap labor.

Us? Who am I kidding? Me. They treat me like cheap labor.

Any time I've tried to raise the issue with him, he's said we have to 'prove our worth' and 'earn our keep' and someday the whole empire will be ours.

Though, he hasn't made the 'ours' argument in a while.

Since it's my birthday, they let me off my shift early. But that almost didn't happen when a bartender called in sick. Another thing about becoming part of an extended family business—your life is no longer your own.

I'm the pastry chef, but they slot me into other roles in the restaurant when they're short, and I haven't managed to escape the building. In the year since we moved here, I've covered every imaginable position.

Our apartment is a wide-open, high-ceilinged room on the top floor that has incredible views of the marina. And a sky-high rental price tag to match. The only walls are at the back and they box in the bathroom. Our bed lays against the far wall, and it's the first thing anyone sees when they walk in the door. When I suggested to Derrick that we re-arrange the layout so our bed wasn't so in your face, he said he liked having the spot where we'd be fucking so accessible. Seemed romantic at the time.

But Derrick has never been much of a true romantic, so when I slot my key into the lock on our apartment door, I'm hoping he's at least remembered today is my birthday. His parents did. They won't remind him because they believe he's highly organized and very efficient. Neither is true.

The door is hard to open, and I grunt as I push against it. Did he drop his shoes in front of the door again? How many times do I have to tell him they get stuck on the mat and make opening the door impossible?

Music blares from the sound system, so he won't even hear me if I shout for help.

With another concerted effort, I get the door to swing wide enough to slip in. On the floor are a pair of heels I've scuffed by forcing the door.