"What!?" I gasp, grabbing the magazine and lifting it up, reading the headline and realizing that the other half of the cover is, of course, a picture of Luca in his boxer's getup - which, essentially, just means sweaty and shirtless. And, of course, he looks stupidly good with his boxing gloves up by his face, his expression all tough and gritty and determined.

But I tear my eyes away from the picture of my handsome mate to read the headline splashed across both of us.

"CONFIRMED: LUCA GRANT MATED TO PRINCESS ARIEL."

"Ohhh my god," I murmur, my fingers tightening against the cover in my shock. Because, I mean, it's not a secret within our inner circles that Luca and I are mated - but this is not public knowledge, and certainly not something my parents would have wanted me to announce so openly and so early on in my relationship.

And, especially, since I have - you know - a second mate that's going to complicate all of this - this is not at all a good thing for me.

But who did this?

I mean, I know that my family knows, and that Luca told his mom and his uncle, but to everyone else he introduced me to last night - he always said girlfriend, never mate. Because that's incredibly personal, and considering who I am, and what my position is within this world...

God, spilling this to the press? It's a huge betrayal.

My fingers hesitate, a little, as I begin to flick through the pages of the magazine, because I am suddenly quite terrified that I know who leaked this...

who wants everyone to know that we're mated, especially since there's another claim

read the article. I sigh, and press the magazine shut in

the confirmation, if it's there at all, that Luca did this. I don't know

look up at my mother. "Mom?" I whisper, not really knowing what I'm

for me in an instant, wrapping me up

I whisper, horrified,

replies, her voice grave. "He...he didn't

straight, surprised and confused, wanting to see her face.

source close to Luca Grant' confirmed that you two are mates," dad says, and mom leans back a little so that I can look into my father's stern face. He's not mad at me, obviously, but I can tell that he's keeping his temper on quite a

him standing, his hands in his pockets, his face sorry for me. Next to him, Ben and Daphne look exactly the same. Jesse just looks pissed as hell, and starts across the room to pour himself a cup

more empathy than I'd expect. But, then again, she is my sister. Maybe I don't

sigh, reaching for the magazine again. "what does the interview

blankly

she was told that he is

would confirm it," Jesse says, his words clipped as he sloshes creamer into his coffee before turning to me, his cup tight in

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