The Bad Royals Box Set: The Complete Royally Unexpected Series, page 13
The girls all agree, and my blood turns to ice. Prince Charlie in Grimdale? With other girls?
I’m able to slip out of the locker room and find a quiet corner of the athletics building to look at my phone. No messages from Charlie, but a plethora of photos of him from last night.
My throat tightens and I squeeze my eyes shut.
I knew this would happen. I told myself it wasn’t forever.
He and I are just a fling. It’s not for real. It has an expiration date. It’ll end.
Yet, I’m still not prepared.
Over the last three weeks, I’ve let myself believe Prince Charlie cares about me, that he likes me, and that he wants to be with me.
Then, the first evening we spend apart, he’s out partying—with other girls crawling all over him, kissing his ear. His ear! That’s far too intimate for my liking.
Even though it hurts, I force myself to look at the photos and read the articles. Every image sticks another dagger in my heart. Every headline twists the handle and sends pain shattering through my chest.
He looks completely wasted in these pictures. Drunk, horny, and on the prowl in Grimdale.
And I thought he cared about me.
But who am I to be mad? It’s not like we were exclusive, or anything. We never talked about ‘us’, or about what it meant to be together. I’m not his girlfriend. He’s the Prince—do princes even have girlfriends?
Certainly not girlfriends from the poor end of the Kingdom that he keeps hidden away in a forest lodge. I should have been prepared for this. I should have been clear with him that I wasn’t okay with this, and if that was a problem, I didn’t want to see him.
I should have been stronger.
But he makes me weak, silly, and foolish. I practically asked for this to happen.
A tear rolls down my cheek. It’s painful. Even though we weren’t explicit, spending every single evening with someone sends a certain message.
And that message is: I like you. I want to be with you. You matter to me.
To then go off and get drunk with a bunch of half-naked chicks hanging off each arm…
… that hurts.
A lot.
What can I do? I’m just Elle Valencia from Grimdale, and he’s the Crown Prince of Farcliff. I pull myself up, wipe the tears off my cheeks and walk back home.
I beat myself up for feeling bad about this even though I knew it would happen all along. I feel like an idiot for thinking that I was special—that something significant was going on between us. That we had a future, or any hope of this ending without my heart being shattered.
By the time I make it home, I’m ready to get in the shower and have a good cry in private. I feel like a fool, and I just need to get all this emotion out in order to figure out how I’ll break things off with Charlie.
I don’t get to do that, though, because sitting on my front stoop, holding a bouquet of white roses, is none other than the Prince himself.
Charlie stands as I walk up the path. His face is lined and he looks hungover as hell. “Elle...”
“Hey.”
“These are for you.” He thrusts the roses toward me.
I take them and nod. “Thanks. Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you giving me flowers?”
The Prince runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I went out last night.”
“I heard.”
He stares at me for a moment and sighs. “I didn’t do anything.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean I didn’t sleep with any of those girls in the pictures.”
“Okay. Um, congratulations? Do you want a gold star?”
He sucks in a breath. “You’re mad.”
“I don’t know how I feel. What are we doing, Charlie? This isn’t going to end well. I know it, and you know it…”
“So, what? You don’t want to see me?” His eyebrows draw together and he gives me the biggest, princeliest, most puppy-dog eyes I’ve ever seen, and I know I’m too weak to turn him away.
My shoulders drop. “Let’s go inside. I need a shower.”
Charlie follows me in, and I put the flowers down on the desk in my room. I drop my gym bag and sit on the edge of my bed. The Prince closes my bedroom door and watches me for a moment. “Are you mad at me?”
“I’m mad at myself, mostly,” I answer with a dry laugh. “Listen…” I sigh.
I want to tell him to go, to leave me alone, to not string me along like some pathetic groupie until he gets sick of me…
… but the words won’t come out.
Charlie walks toward me and slips his hands into mine. He pulls me up off the bed so I’m standing in front of him, my chest pressed against his. He takes my hands and hooks them around his neck before clasping his own behind my back. Resting his forehead against mine, he takes a deep breath.
“I was upset you didn’t want to see me yesterday, so I got drunk. I didn’t touch any of those girls. I had the one in the white dress kicked out of the club. I swear, Elle, I was thinking of you all night.”
My heart thumps and my emotions war inside me. “There’s no future between us, Charlie. You know that, right?”
“Why not?”
I laugh, pulling my head away from his to look at his face. “What do you mean, why not? Because I’m me, and you’re you. We’ve been sneaking around for almost a month now, but then what? You’re going to go public with your Grimdale girlfriend? It’s never going to happen.”
“I’ll go public right now, Elle. Here.” He takes out his phone to take a picture of us and I push his arm away, laughing.
“Come on.” I shake my head.
“I’m serious.”
We stare at each other, and I finally sigh. “I didn’t like seeing those pictures. I get that you like to go out, but…”
“I was thinking of you, Elle. I was always thinking of you.”
“But you still let them crawl all over you.”
“I know. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I want you.”
I want to believe him. My heart believes him, but I know I’m setting myself up for a long, hard fall. There’s no future between us—that much is certain.
But hope is a wriggling little worm, a termite that makes its way to the depths of my heart and burrows itself inside me. It’s a low flame that burns deep in my soul and softly whispers what if…
Hope is a dirty liar, but I still choose to believe it.
I choose to believe the Prince when he says he was thinking about me and when he says he didn’t do anything with any other girls. I believe him when he says we might have a future together, even though I know it’s not true.
He tilts my chin up toward him and kisses me tenderly, and then he strips off my clothes. I undress him, laying a soft kiss on his chest, brushing the outline of one of his tattoos. I sigh, giving in.
I want him.
I’m not ready to let him go.
The two of us head to the shower together. Under the stream, we wash each other and the Prince makes me come with his hands, his mouth, his cock.
“Come away with me this weekend,” he says, holding me tight as I try to regain control over my shaking, post-orgasmic legs.
“What? Where?”
“To our country house. Let me treat you like a princess.”
I brush his wet hair off his forehead and place a kiss on his lips. “I can’t, Charlie. I have practice. I can’t miss any training sessions this close to the regatta.”
He pouts, which makes me chuckle.
“After the regatta, we’ll go away together,” he commands.
I smile. “Okay. After the regatta.”
But I’m not sure there will be an ‘after the regatta’ for us. This feels like the beginning of the end, only neither of us are admitting it.
23
CHARLIE
I learn a few things that day.
Number one, I learn that I really, really care about Elle. I care about her enough to grovel.
Number two, I learn that partying and girls don’t have the same draw as they once did.
And number three—perhaps most surprising—is that I learn my father is having me followed.
When I get home from Elle’s house, Talin appears out of thin air and points down the hall to my father’s study. When I step inside, my father is fuming.
“Dahlia Raventhal? Really? One Raventhal bitch wasn’t enough? We invited the girl to the Prince’s Ball, but I wasn’t expecting you to fuck her.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know you’ve been sneaking around with someone, but I didn’t expect it to be Raventhal filth,” he spits.
“You think I’m sleeping with Dahlia Raventhal?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, Charles. How many times do I have to tell you that you need a suitable wife?”
“Suitable for who, Father?”
“For the Kingdom!” His voice booms as it echoes around his office. He huffs, his neck wobbling as he glares at me.
I flop down onto one of his chairs and stare at my nails. I can feel my father’s anger ratchet up a couple notches, and my lips twitch.
“You are the Crown Prince of—”
“I know who I am, and I also know that it’s the twenty-first century. You don’t need to marry me off to some princess for political reasons. We have actual politicians for that, now.”
The King’s face turns bright red. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be naive, Charlie.”
“Naive? You think I’m being naive?”
“You were naive when you almost impregnated your governess, and now you’re going to bring dishonor on our family by doing it again.”
The air between us grows tense.
My eyes narrow. “Why are you so worried about my marriage all of a sudden?” I glance at his desk and catch a glimpse of some contract documents. My blood boils. “The Farcliff Dam Project? That was thrown out fifteen years ago. Mother saw to that. We would need to relocate the entire population of Grimdale.”
“Things change in fifteen years, Charles.” He waves a hand. “And I’m worried about your marriage because it’s time. The law states that you need a wife to become King, and I’m sick of you being such a fuck-up. Dahlia Raventhal is just another one of those fuck-ups of yours.”
The King shuffles the papers away, shoving them into a drawer in his desk. My father is planning something, but I don’t know what. Something about him pushing this marriage all of a sudden—it makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
Something doesn’t add up, and my father is a dangerous man.
Dahlia Raventhal is from a suitable family—but I’m not sleeping with her. She’s not the reason I went to that house today.
No, the truth is much, much more damning.
At least Dahlia Raventhal is from an old family. My father wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt her. Elle, on the other hand…
Elle doesn’t even know who her parents are. If my father is following me, he’s up to something, and I don’t trust him to be an honorable person. The last thing I want to do is put Elle in danger. The King could hurt her without any repercussions. If he knows that I care about her, he could throw her in jail or pull her scholarship—or worse.
He could make her disappear without a trace.
I swallow and square my shoulders. If my father thinks I’m interested in Dahlia Raventhal, then at least Elle is safe from his wrath.
“What are you going to do about Dahlia?” I ask. “Since you seem so sure that I’m seeing her.”
A smile twists his lips. “I’m going to invite the Miss Raventhal to the castle, and you’re going to declare your intentions with that Raventhal swine.” My father sits down again and waves a hand. “You can go.”
Talin opens the door and I storm out without another word.
I walk straight to Damon’s chambers and push the door open. He looks up from the stack of notes and books on his desk, tucking a pencil behind his ear.
“Charlie, what’s up?”
I look at my brother and take a deep breath. “I need your help.”
Damon and I park the car in front of Elle’s house, and my brother looks over at me.
“You sure about this?”
“No, but it’s the only solution I can think of.”
“You owe me one.” Damon grins
“I know.”
We exit the car and walk up to the house. The lawn needs to be mowed, and the paint is peeling. I wish I could use the resources of the Crown out here to get Elle living in a half-decent place, but I can’t. Now that I know my father is watching me, no one can know about her.
When Elle opens the door to see me, her eyebrows shoot up. “Hey. What are you doing here? Is that…?”
“Elle, this is my brother, Damon.”
“Miss Valencia,” Damon says with a deep bow. Elle looks at me, surprised.
“Uh, hi. Come in.” She opens the door wider for us and we step into the narrow entryway.
“Who’s there?” A voice sounds from down the hallway. Dahlia Raventhal’s multicolored head appears from around the corner, followed by the rest of her completely naked body. She glances at the three of us and waves a hand. I look away, but not before I learn that Dahlia Raventhal dyes her pubes to match the hair on her head.
Lovely.
My brother doesn’t look away so quickly. His eyes bug out of his head and he stares at her until she disappears into a side room.
Elle sighs. “That’s my roommate, Dahlia,” she says, glancing at Dahlia’s doorway with a sidelong glance. “She doesn’t really believe in clothing, in the traditional sense.”
“That’s totally fine,” Damon says, still staring at the room where Dahlia disappeared.
Elle leads us down the hallway toward the kitchen. I slide my hand down her lower back and she nudges into me. “What’s going on?”
“I need to talk to you… and Dahlia.”
She frowns, but gestures to the kitchen table before going back to knock on Dahlia’s door. When the two of them reappear, Dahlia thankfully has a robe on. I’m not sure Damon would be able to focus long enough if she were still naked.
The girls offer us water and coffee, but I shake my head. Elle takes a seat next to me and slides her hand over my thigh, her eyes questioning. Dahlia hums to herself as she rummages through the refrigerator. My brother’s eyes are glued to her robe-covered ass.
I take a deep breath. “Dahlia, I have a favor to ask.”
“What is it?” She asks without looking back. She pulls out a leftover rotisserie chicken from the fridge, ripping off a chicken leg before taking a bite. Munching on it, she turns to the rest of us and arches her eyebrows.
Elle stifles a smile and I exchange a glance at my brother. Dahlia holds out the plate of chicken. “You guys want some?”
“Uh, no. Thanks.” I clear my throat. “Listen, Dahlia, I was wondering if you’d mind pretending to be in love with my brother.”
“What?” Elle turns to me, frowning.
Dahlia shrugs. “Sure.” She tosses a chicken bone into the garbage and licks her fingers. Damon licks his lips.
“Wait, no, Dahl. Don’t just agree to this. What are you talking about, Charlie?”
“Charlie?” Damon’s eyes finally leave Dahlia and come to rest on Elle. He knows that no one calls me Charlie unless they’re very, very close to me.
I take a deep breath. “My father saw me come here. He thinks I’m here because of Dahlia, which would understandably cause some controversy. He’s going to invite you to our place for dinner, Dahlia, so I was thinking if I say that I was here to come get you for Damon…”
“… your place as in, the castle?” Dahlia asks, her eyebrows drawing together. “I don’t know. I’m not…”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?”
“Can we just back up for a second?” Elle stands up, putting a hand to her forehead. “What the hell is going on?”
“Look, it’s no big deal,” Damon interjects. “My brother likes you, but he’s the Crown Prince, so it’s complicated. He needs a bit of time to figure out how to make that work. If my father thinks he’s into Dahlia, it means you’re safe. If my father thinks he’s into nobody, even better. I’m going to buy him some time by saying that I’m the one who’s into Dahlia,” he swings his eyes to the short fairy-like girl who’s still munching on rotisserie chicken, “and then you’ll be free to keep seeing each other without fear of retribution. Simple.”
Damon smiles at Dahlia, who nods and smiles back.
Dahlia looks at Elle. “Seems simple to me.”
“What do you mean, if he doesn’t know about me it means I’m ‘safe’?” Elle says, looking from me to my brother. “Am I in some kind of danger?” She stands and starts pacing the room. I can see the panic mounting inside her.
“No,” I answer, standing up to stop her pacing and put my arms around her. “No. You’re not in any danger. I’ll protect you.”
“From what?”
“Look, Elle, I just need time to figure this out. I want…” I take a deep breath. “I want you. For real, I mean—in public, for everyone to know. I don’t want to sneak around anymore, but there are traditions that go back centuries, and ignoring them will cause… ripples.”
“Ripples?” Elle’s eyes widen. She bites her lip and looks at her friend. “And you’re okay with this, Dahlia? What about going to the castle?”
“Is that a problem?” I ask, pulling away from Elle. I wasn’t expecting this kind of pushback when I thought of this plan. I thought Dahlia Raventhal would be more than willing to play along.
Dahlia shifts her weight from foot to foot and puts the plate of chicken down. “It’s not a problem, per se. I just… I’m not really a castle person.” She smiles awkwardly. “You know?”
“Definitely,” Damon says, running his hand through his hair. “I know what you mean.”
Dahlia’s eyes brighten. “You do?”
