This story is now available in Kindle Unlimited. The series is being self-published throughout 2022. Follow me to be kept up to date on details.

Series reading order: Fake Crown (this one), Scarred Crown, Heavy Crown, Fallen Crown. You can read them out of order, but for maximum enjoyment (and no spoilers), follow the series.

The professor at the front of the lecture hall closes her presentation and takes questions from the students around me. Since she is one of the foremost interior designers in the state, I should be paying attention. A career like hers is exactly what I want to have when I return to Bellerive. Instead, I've passed my phone to my newest friend, Monica, so she can add her details to my contacts. It's a long list. My sister, Julia, calls me a friend collector.

"I'll add you to the group chat," Monica says, and she tucks her dark hair behind her ear with her thumb and forefinger. "I've never met anyone from Bellerive island before. Is it as pretty in person as the photos make it seem?" She turns her computer screen toward me, and she returns my phone to my outstretched palm. On her screen is an aerial view of the island, stretching out across the ocean, and an answering ache stretches across my chest.

Home.

"Prettier," I say. "The best place in the world." I drop my phone into my bag, and I'm reminded again of how pale I've gotten. These Michigan winters are hell on my complexion. The sight of the photo has caused a trickle of homesickness to leak into my consciousness. Some days it amazes me I've made it almost four years in America.

"Jensen," Monica muses. "Are you related to Secretary Jensen? It says here she works for the king."

"The former is my mother, and the current secretary in training is my sister." I wink. "Yes, I know the Bellerive Brothers." That's the hashtag everyone uses for the three Bellerive royal heirs.

Each one is a thirst trap for a different reason. Brice, the youngest, is my favorite now, but Nick, the middle son, used to be. That was back when he and my sister were best friends. Their friendship ended years ago. Now, he's a man-whore. Julia calls the women who flock to him Crown Bunnies. They exist on campus too—people who want to get close to me to get noticed by them. I've learned to sus out those people quickly.

"I'd totally bang Brice," Monica says, and she shuts her computer and shoves it into the bag at her feet.

An acceptable response. Anyone who goes for Alex, the future king, is a gold-digger and cannot be trusted. While Alex is just as hot as his brothers, he's more aloof on social media. Much more guarded. Women who pinpoint him are after a title and position, not the man himself. I 'lose' the numbers of those women. Prince Alexander does not suffer fools, and I don't intend to be on his foolish list. At least not in regards to the friends I make.

"Brice is totally shaggable." To everyone else but me. I can appreciate them without wanting to have sex with them. Too much like brothers since we all grew up together. Each one annoys me in their own unique way.

When I was younger, Nick was the most appealing. His friendship with my sister was the stuff teenage fantasies are built on. Now, they rarely speak unless they absolutely have to. Once in a while, I catch him staring at Julia with naked longing. As though he wishes for something he can no longer have. The one time I tried to bring up their past friendship, Jules shut me down by saying Nick wasn't who he used to be. Apart from all the sex, he still seems like the same guy to me. What do I know?

Monica walks me out of the lecture hall. "Any plans for the long weekend?"

"Probably just sticking around here. All my family is out of Bellerive on various adventures. A couple of my friends from home were talking about coming but never booked their flights." November isn't an ideal time to visit. Not cold enough for snow to stick and not warm enough for other outdoor adventures.

"I'd invite you home with me, but I'm going to my boyfriend's place. I'll send you the link to another chat I'm in," Monica says. "There are always people making last minute plans in it on a long weekend."

"Awesome," I say. "My extroverted heart will love it."

"Sit together next week?" Monica holds the door open as we exit the concrete building into the crisp late fall air.

A chill rushes through me, and I zip my jacket. "I usually sit with Destiny, but she went home early for the weekend. We can all sit together," I say. "I'll introduce you."

"Perfect," she says. "Maybe this class won't be so boring anymore." A horn beeps ahead of us, and Monica waves at a Black guy driving toward us. "That's my boyfriend." She rolls her eyes when he sticks his head out the window to yell something incoherent. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"God, no." I laugh. "Men are best in bite-sized pieces." I give her a wicked grin. "Sinful and delicious."

"Ohh, you're trouble, Posey Jensen." She wags her finger at me as she starts to walk backward. "My boyfriend isn't going to like me hanging around you."

Reason number one why I don't have a boyfriend. Who wants to be on a leash? "Maybe you need a new boyfriend." I waggle my brows when the horn honks again.

Monica throws the middle finger over her shoulder and grimaces. "I'll dump him when Sebastian Swan comes calling."

I shake my head. "The football player? The one involved in the big scandal last year?"

"He wasn't part of that. He dates the girl's roommate. Natalie, I think?" She crosses her fingers. "Is it wrong to wish for someone else's breakup?"

We reach her boyfriend's car, and Monica circles to the passenger side.

"Need a ride?" the boyfriend asks, leaning out the window. "We can drop you somewhere on our way outta town?" He's skinnier than I expect given Monica's fixation on a football player, but his grin is infectious.

"I don't live far from campus, but thanks." I smile. "Have a good weekend." I wave to them both and head across the street to the eastern campus exit which isn't the closest to my apartment, but it's the route past the Olympic-size swimming pool.

As I walk, I scroll through my various social media accounts on the hunt for my own thirst trap. Brent Faulkner is a legend on campus and in Bellerive. He's chasing Michael Phelps's medal count at the next Olympics. While his mother was born in Bellerive, her family left the country when she was young. She married an American, and her eldest child, Brent, has chosen to swim for America in the Olympics instead of Bellerive. I guess he feels more attached to the good ole U.S of A than his mother's birthplace.

Do I know far too much about a man I've never met? Yes, yes I do.

It's not really my fault, though. His girlfriend constantly posts envy-inducing photos of Brent's finely tuned physique. He's catnip, and I'm the cat.

Like Monica, a tiny part of me might be wishing Brent would suddenly find himself single too. His girlfriend appears completely and utterly gone over him, so I can't see a breakup happening anytime soon.

I scan her accounts and the hashtags she normally uses. Weird. Silence today, and she's normally posted something by now. Not a single word or photo. I click through to his accounts, and I don't find anything there either.

Maybe they've both gone home for the weekend too? Thanksgiving isn't a holiday in Bellerive, and my parents and sister are on work-related travel. In hindsight, I should have said yes to any of the offers I got before now.

A part of me held out hope Julia, my sister, might surprise me by turning up on my doorstep. She did that my first year at Northern University when she was still working in California. Now that she's back in Bellerive and working for the palace, she's constantly busy.

Instead of dwelling on what a boring long weekend I might have ahead of me, I click on the group chat Monica sent to me. With my thumb, I scroll to the newest posts. Lots of people hosting parties, looking for Thanksgiving dinner dates, a few requests for someone to come home with them and pretend to be their significant other. The various claims made in those posts make me laugh, and by the time I reach the apartment I share with Destiny and Nadiya, I'm feeling lighter.

The silence of our second-floor apartment closes in around me, and I collapse into the couch to check all my other group chats. Everyone is wishing everyone else a happy long weekend, chatting about the ways they're returning home, and who they are bringing with them.

Maybe I should have gone home anyway. An empty house in Bellerive would at least have a better view from the window and warmer weather outside.

My phone chimes in my hand with a text from Monica.

Check the group chat I sent you. A sweet weekend away.

Opening the chat she sent me, I scroll to the post from a BF with a Captain America avatar. Inside I release an ugh before I read the post.

Weekend wedding in Bermuda. Flight leaves at 10 pm. Back Monday at noon. Looking for my +1. Those with drama need not apply. Pay own flight. Hotel is all inclusive.

Instead of texting Monica back, I hit call and press the phone to my ear. She'll be in the car with her boyfriend, but I'm not replying to this post. The guy sounds like an idiot.

"Do it," Monica says when she answers.

"Two initials and a Captain America avatar? He's going to be the worst. A sleazy, misogynistic jerk."

Monica cackles over the phone. "You're judging that hard over initials and an avatar?"

"Those with drama need not apply," I say. "He might as well scrawl 'I've got issues' at the end of his post."

"Oh, I see what it's like," Monica says. "You're all talk."

"What?" I sit up straighter in the couch.

"In class you were all 'I seek adventure' and 'My extravert loving heart', but when an opportunity drops in your lap, you're not taking it?" She tsks. "Something better than a trip to Bermuda come up?"

"I have to pay for my flight."

"That's a bonus—you can leave early if he really is a sleazy jerk." She hums over the phone. "Never mind. Someone else replied. I gotta go. Devon doesn't like it when I talk on the phone when he's driving. He likes his tunes cranked."

"Have a good weekend," I say again before hanging up.

I click into the chat and stare at the exchange of messages. Shared hotel room, but separate beds.

They're still hashing out details.

I'll come.

I send the response before I can second guess myself.

The bubbles pop up under my response.

DM'd you.

In my private messages, I find a picture of flight details and a link to purchase. Other girl was wasting my time. If you're serious, book this and screenshot as a reply.

Once I'm on the airline page, I grab the credit card out of my wallet that my parents' still pay. There have to be some perks to being abandoned on a long weekend. I don't allow my brain to engage as I type in all my details and press on the pay now button. While the payment processes, a brief shot of panic spikes in me. This guy could be anyone, and not in a good way.

A boarding pass appears on my screen and a thank you for my payment.

God, that was expensive. It's a good thing he's paying for everything else. At least I can justify it to my parents that way.

I screenshot the transaction and send it to BF in our private chat. He sends me another picture of the hotel name and location. Immediately, I save it to my phone and then I text it to Monica.

In case he's a murderer. This is where I'm supposed to be for the weekend.

Monica responds immediately with an lol and heart eyes. One of us is a bad influence, I'm starting to think it's not me.

When I click back over to the chat with BF, he's left another message.

I'll text you at the airport. Glad you're a dude. So tired of the drama!

I frown at the message. He thinks I'm a dude? Why would he think I'm a guy? On my chat profile, the other shoe drops. My avatar is a J in Bellerive blue, and the only name visible is my last one: Jensen.

My fingers hover over my keyboard. I've already paid for my flight. Do I tell him I'm a drama-rama girl or leave him to be surprised at the airport?

My lips twist into a smile.

See you tonight!

ONC entry for 2021. First chapter posted Feb 3rd.