Dirty Royal: A Bad Boy Royal Romance (10 page)

I bite my lip and look down at the bread basket. It stings that Alec’s father has a problem with my presence here, but more than that, it doesn’t bode well for our future together. His father is the King of Saintland. He could have me deported at any time…and that’s when I realize that those plans are likely already in the works. Alec has been a prince all his life. The responsibilities would be nothing new, but a fight with his father over
me
would certainly be a recent development.

I could make it easier on everyone by simply going to the airport and booking a flight back to New York.

Even as I consider it, I know it’s not going to happen. With every conversation we have with one another and every minute we spend together, I feel more strongly that being with Alec is the right decision. The words flow easily between us. I find it easy to share things with him about my past that I thought would be difficult to talk about.

And because my feelings for him are growing every minute, it hurts that his family wants nothing to do with me.

The rational part of my mind intercedes.
They don’t know you. If they knew you, they would love you, just like he does.
 

These thoughts fly through my mind in a matter of moments, and I’m able to look back up into Alec’s eyes with a smile on my face.

“Your father and I haven’t been introduced.”

He throws his head back and laughs, then reaches across the table for my hand. “You’re damn right about that. I’m sure his feelings would be different if he knew you. But you know fathers. Stubborn mules, all of them.”

The joy and tenderness in his eyes when he looks at me…it’s enough to carry us through any bullshit with his father. I have to believe it is. My heart beats a little faster.

I’ve fallen.
Hard
.

After we finish our meal, Alec takes my hand as we stroll along the canal, watching the moonlight dance on the water’s surface.
 

“That’s a sight to see,” I say, twining my fingers through Alec’s.

“You’re a sight to see,” he says, wistfully looking into my eyes.

We haven’t been walking five minutes when running footsteps approach us from behind. I turn to see a pair of children, a boy and a girl—they can’t be older than seven or eight. Their parents, a young couple by the looks of them, are following along slowly behind them. The mother gives me a shy wave.

“Hello!” calls the boy, looking up at me. “Are you going to be the new princess?”

I laugh, but my cheeks flush red as I bend my knees so I’m on the same level as the boy. “Do you think the prince needs a princess?”

Alec’s chuckle tells me he approves of the idea.

“Will you sign your autograph?” pipes up the little girl, tight blonde curls bobbing, holding out a drugstore notebook and pen toward me.

“Of course I will. But I’m only a visitor from the United States. Are you sure you want my autograph?” I keep my tone light, but the sentiment gnaws me at my core. I’m not a princess, and despite how much I’m willing to fight for Alec, that could end up being our undoing.

“You’ll be a princess one day,” she says matter-of-factly.

“You’re very kind,” I say simply, taking her notebook and pen and signing my name in the prettiest handwriting I can. I also sign the boy’s notebook, and then Alec signs one for both of them as well, his name appearing as a regal scrawl next to mine on the page.

The parents approach and we exchange courteous introductions before they usher the two children away, chattering and pleased.

So that’s what it’s like to be royalty.

This is what Alec is like, playing a kind of indulgent father figure.

I blush just thinking about it.

It’s not until we turn to go that I see the photographer standing across the road, his camera rapidly clicking photo after photo of us.

Chapter 20

Alec

I’m in the middle of a daytime TV interview two days later when Nate steps up behind the interviewer and taps her on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper something in her ear.

She flashes an artificially broad smile at me, almost appearing to crack the thick layers of makeup she’s wearing to offset the bright camera light, and swiftly rises to her feet. “Thank you so much, your highness,” she says to me. “It appears we’ve run out of time, but please do visit us again soon.”

“You’re so welcome,” I say, shaking her hand. Denise is the lead anchor for Saintland’s biggest—and only—news network. She routinely interviews me once every few weeks.
 

I step towards the side of the set, and Nate is there to meet me. I shoot him an irritated look while I wait for the tech to disconnect the microphone pinned to the inside lapel of my jacket.

Once the man is out of earshot, Nate gestures for me to follow him to the exit.

“What’s going on?” I’m not sure if I should be concerned about the interruption or annoyed by it.

“The King has requested a meeting.”

“In the middle of a goddamn interview?”

“He doesn’t seem to care about the interview.”

“Yet he’s the one who insisted on scheduling all of them.” I roll my eyes.

Nate shrugs. I shouldn’t take my anger and frustration out on him. He’s only the messenger.

I’m silent during the short drive back to the palace, spending the time racking my brain trying to figure out the reason why my father needs to speak to me so urgently. So urgently that he would interrupt a media appearance that
he
scheduled. This can’t possibly have anything to do with the spontaneous meet-and-greet with that cute family Jessica and I signed autographs for after dinner last night, can it?

Surely not.

When I get to the council chamber, my father’s face is beet red, and his jaw is clenched tight.

“Your Majesty,” I acknowledge, giving a little bow. I remain standing in front of his desk.

My father rises swiftly to his feet, his arms crossed over his chest, but he doesn’t speak. His eyes spark with fury.

The door behind me opens, then closes forcefully. It’s Marcus. He exudes an air of importance as he strides through the room to stand next to my father.

Good God. Now what?

“Alexander,” my father growls. “These publicity stunts have to
stop
.”

Though I have no idea what he’s referring to this time, I’m immediately on the defensive. “Publicity stunts?”

“Parading
that woman
in front of the media, meeting with the public…what makes you think you have any
right
to do that?”

“You have to realize,” interjects Marcus in a patronizing tone, “that your actions are reflecting poorly on the entire Caldwell house. We are the royal family, Alexander, and we have an image to uphold if this country is going to remain a respectable player in European politics.”

I roll my eyes at him, and I’m unable to resist hurling a biting comment. “Thank you
endlessly
, Marcus, for letting me know. I’d almost forgotten that our father is the King of Saintland.”

“That would explain it!” my brother shouts condescendingly. His face has transformed into a strange color, the flush in his cheeks not the characteristic color when he’s anger. “There’s no other
possible
reason for to you act with such disregard for your station,” he hisses.

“I see, I see. You’ve got it all figured out, have you? Go ahead. Accuse me of drumming up publicity just to air our dirty laundry.” Never mind that the real purpose for my dinner date at the Knight’s Cap was to formally demonstrate that I want to be with Jessica. I certainly didn’t take her there to advertise the fucking discord in our family. “If that was how my dinner date was perceived, I’m sorry, but you only have yourselves to blame—

“I’m not making a baseless accusation, Alexander!” my father says sharply, interrupting me as he slams a copy of today’s newspaper down onto the desk in front of me.

“What, did your bullheadedness finally make…?” My voice trails off as I see the headline on the front page. It’s a high-resolution photograph of Jessica. She’s kneeling down to talk to a pair of children, a radiant smile plastered across her face, and holding a tiny notebook in her hands. In the photo, I’m smiling at the young parents. It’s a pretty scene, but the headline splashed directly above the photo reads,
ROYAL PALACE SHUNS SAINTLAND’S SWEETHEART
.

 
Saintland’s Sweetheart? As far as I know, Jessica’s name hasn’t been leaked to the media yet. Nate would have told me if it had. Admiring Jessica’s exquisite beauty radiating from the photograph, it’s easy to see why they could have come up with that headline. I could look at her all day, and I can’t be the only one. I scan the text of the article—her name doesn’t appear anywhere.

“You’ve got this all wrong,” I argue, looking up from the paper. “I didn’t plan this. The two children ran up to us and—.”

“After your recent behavior, I have no reason to believe you,” my father thunders. “I am through listening to your snide comments and excuses.” His face hardens to stone. “This ends now, Alexander, right
now
.” He inhales a deep breath and clenches one fist on the surface of the desk. “Find something to occupy yourself, away from this office, until you’ve gotten rid of the girl.”

I open my mouth again, then snap it shut.

What the…? My father is impossible.

Nodding slightly to him, I spin on my heel and head toward the door. I fling it open with a hard shove until the door cracks against the wall, and stride angrily into the hallway.

But Marcus isn’t finished with me.

“Do you understand
now
, little brother? You’re not the only one who matters in this country,” he snarls menacingly.

“Fuck off, Marcus.” I spit back, my voice strangely calm.

“As the crown prince, I consider it my
duty
to ensure that you’ve finally come around to—.”

“I’m not coming around to anything. You are the ones making a goddamn grave mistake.”

Without thinking, I’m heading toward the gardens located on the side of the palace, a place I used to spend time alone with my mother. Marcus continues following me, relentless in his needling, and I open the door to the garden with a bang that sounds like a gunshot. He trails out behind me, still shooting off at the mouth.

“I just don’t see it, Alexander. What could a common woman from the United States possibly mean to you? You’ve always been so blind. So sadly blind. Are you coming to realize that you have a part to play as a prince of Saintland? Are you finished being so self-absorbed?”

I stop, turn to face him, closing the distance between us in one step. With a roar, I grip the front of his jacket with both of my fists, shoving him up forcefully against the palace wall.

“Don’t you
ever
speak of her again, you fucking waste of a human,” I bellow into his face, holding him up a few inches from the ground and shaking him. “
Never again
, or so help me God. I love her, and there’s not a damn thing you and father can do about it.
Is that understood
?”

Marcus’s eyes dart to the side.

Too late, I see the photographer who has climbed up onto the garden wall. He’s holding his camera in one hand and has his phone positioned at an angle towards us in the other, capturing our every word and movement.

Chapter 21

Jessica

I don’t see or hear from Alec for a couple of days, but I know that he’s busy. The local news station is constantly running interviews with him, and reports are ongoing about what the royal family is doing in preparation for the country’s upcoming annual Summer Festival. Claire explains to me that of the event celebrates the country’s independence and tradition. Even though Saintland is a relatively new nation, they established traditions early on, and he Summer Festival is one of them.

My heart beats faster and I get goose bumps when I see him onscreen, smiling widely at the citizens of Saintland who rush to shake his hand. Alec is the complete package. He’s so handsome, and his goodness and genuine rapport with people radiates from the TV screen. It makes my heart flutter to think that of all the people he meets and reporters he jokes with, I’m the one who knows Alec the animal, and how sexy and dirty he can be in the privacy of our bedroom.

I only wish that his father wasn’t a source of tension for him. During our last date, I could sense it in the stiffness of his shoulders and in his uptight expression.

Maybe this deluge of appearances is a sign that he’s smoothed things over with his father and brother.

I’m watching one of his interviews, recorded earlier in the day, and reveling in the gorgeous lines of Alec’s handsome face, when Claire arrives for the afternoon. She’s planned more shopping and a sightseeing venture outside the city.

When she enters my suite, I know immediately that something isn’t right by the worried look in her eyes.

Before I can question Claire, the TV interview with Alec ends abruptly, the announcer suddenly rising from her seat and shaking his hand, nonchalantly bridging the gap between segments with light commentary about how busy it is to be a member of the royal family.

“Good morning, Jessica,” Claire says, sitting down next to me on the sofa. “You look lovely. Are you ready for shopping and lunch?”

“Thank you,” I say, glancing down at the sleeveless dress I chose with the team yesterday. It’s a sea green color that sets off my deep auburn hair, which looks better than ever thanks to the attention of Saintland’s best stylists. I’ve never once colored it, but somehow in their hands the color is more vibrant, smooth and shiny.

But that, I remind myself sternly, is completely beside the point.

“I am,” I answer, “but I’m not going until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she protests, firing me an unconvincing smile.

“Claire. You’re supposed to be my faithful companion,” I say, looking at her with a hint of disappointment. “What’s going on? If it’s a personal matter, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s not that…”

“Spill.” I give her a pointed look.