Royally Screwed Page 13

  I can feel the weighted stares of Chase and Nicolai as they stand on either side of the office door. Only the two of them know how much of a mess I really am. How I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’m barely talking.

  The Minister for Finance narrows his eyes in concern at me. “Are you feeling alright, your majesty?”

  The bags under my eyes and the hollowness to my cheeks. Those are two things that no one can hide.

  “I…no.” My heart aches. That’s what’s wrong.

  “Perhaps we should reconvene at another time, then. When you’re feeling…better.”

  I nod.

  He takes his leave. Thank God. I can wallow in peace. As soon as the door clicks shut behind him I sink into my chair and press my face into my hands.

  My hands feel empty without her curves in them. My bed feels colder than ever, these large marble halls so desolate. And my heart, my life…never have they felt so empty. I miss her with an ache that is slowly driving me mad.

  I feel a hand on my shoulder. When I look up, it’s Chase. “Grayson, I’ve never seen you like this.”

  I’ve never felt like this.

  Now I understand why people kill themselves for love. I feel like death might be kinder than this.

  “Grayson.” It’s Nicolai speaking now. Chase moves out of the way so Nicolai can kneel at my feet. “I have served you loyally over the last few years, Your Highness. I have done everything in my power to protect you, to do what was best for you. I should not have made you leave her.”

  I shrug. “It was never going to work out anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  I blink at Nicolai. “Because…I am royalty and she is…not.”

  “So?”

  Is he really arguing against me on this? Nicolai. The loudest voice against Sophia.

  “The respectability of the crown, restoring the royal line to former glory…” I trial off, my reasons seeming so…hollow.

  Nicolai snorts. “The people don’t care about bloodlines. They want a king and queen that they can look up to. A couple who respect each other, care for each other, make each other better people. A couple in love.”

  “But Sophia’s past…”

  “The people can learn to love her, just like you did.”

  “Everyone loves a rags-to-riches story,” Chase chimes in.

  I stare between the two of them, their words tumbling around inside of me. Two men who I was closest to. Two men I’d call my friends. My brothers.

  “Go, Grayson…” Nicolai says gently, “go get her back.”

  “Yeah, we’re sick of you moping around,” Chase says, his voice kind. “You’re no fun when you’re heartbroken.”

  “She’ll be angry with me,” I say.

  “Make it up to her.”

  “What if she won’t forgive me?” I say, voicing my deepest fear.

  I walked away from Sophia in her darkest hour. She needed me to stand by her when the scandal hit the news, but I stole away and hid in my palace while she was left behind to weather the media storm and the judgements of the people by herself. I would never forgive myself for that. How could she?

  “Then keep making it up to her until she does.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut for just a moment. “I don’t know.”

  It could be too late. It’s probably too late. It would kill me to see her again and have her reject me. Kill me.

  “Love is the greatest risk. And it’s not one that either of us can protect you from. Not really, although we’ve tried.”

  I let out a humourless laugh.

  “God, yes, I love her,” I finally admit. I love her so much it hurts. I need her like I need to breathe.

  Strangely, just saying these words out loud causes some of the heaviness I’ve been wearing to slide off me.

  “Love is rare. True love, rarer. Don’t let her slip past you.” Nicolai’s eyes soften and for a brief moment, I spot a deep pain in them. I want to ask about the source of the pain, but I know better. His story is his own.

  “I don’t even know where she is now.”

  The side of Nicolai’s lip twitches up. “Luckily, I do.”

  “You’ve been keeping tabs on her,” I realise.

  The twitch turns into a full-on grin. “Wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t.”

  Sophia

  I bundle more sheets into the washing machine, the third load today. After I was booted out of the resort, I went to the only place, to the only friend I had left, Donna, at the women’s shelter. She gave me one of their beds in exchange for me helping out around the place.

  It’s not a long-term solution, just until I figure out what’s next. Or until the reporters find me here, because I can’t have those animals hounding everyone here, whichever comes first. Hopefully I figure my shit out first.

  I have savings but it’s not going to last forever. I turn on the washer and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. I’ll have to move from Monaco. I won’t be hired by anyone here.

  I’ll have to start over again. Another place. Another job. New friends. I did it once, I can do it again.

  Except this time, I don’t want to start over.

  Grayson showed me a glimpse of a life I never knew I wanted. A husband. A family. A real home.

  Now my heart aches. I’m…homesick. For a home I never had. Will never have with him.

  “Sophia?”

  I look up and spot Layla, a young girl who is staying at the shelter with her mother, both of them hiding from her abusive husband, Layla’s father. Her head is a riot of dark curls, her latte skin mottled with fading purple and yellow bruises.

  I remember that no matter how bad I think my life is, it could be worse.

  I smile and pull this tiny girl in for a careful hug, forgetting my problems for one moment. “What’s up, Layla?”

  “There is someone here to see you.”

  I rack my brain over who could be visiting me here. None of my friends from the resort have contacted me since I left several weeks ago. My only other friend, Donna, works here and I just saw her as I was collecting bed sheets from the rooms upstairs.

  “Who is it, honey?”

  “He won’t give his name, but he says you know him.”

  Goddammit. It’s probably a reporter. They hadn’t found me here, but it’s only a matter of time. I better go and see what the vulture wants before he harasses any of the other people staying here.

  “Thanks, Lay-lay,” I say, using my nickname for her and kissing the top of her head.

  Layla smiles up at me with that crooked smile of hers, melting my heart. “He has a nice smile. Is he your boyfriend?”

  Oh jeez. This reporter has managed to charm Layla. She doesn’t usually take to grown men. Thanks to her daddy dearest.

  I smile. “No, Lay-lay. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  Her grin widens. “Good. Then he can be my boyfriend.”

  I wince internally. Her little heart is going to break when this guy turns out to be a skeezy reporter just wanting a scoop. I am going to kill him.

  Better get this over with. I run my hands through my hair, a poor substitute for a comb, then follow a skipping Layla to the front of the house.

  The front reception is empty except for a single figure standing with his wide back to me. He turns to face me as I walk in.

  Oh my God.

  It’s Grayson.

  Wearing a crisp white polo shirt and cream chinos, looking even more handsome than all of my memories. His blue eyes lock onto mine.

  “Hello, Sophia.”

  His voice, the one from my dreams, rolls through me. I just want to drown in it.

  “Lay-lay,” I say, trying to keep the shake out of my voice and failing. “Can you give us a minute alone, please?”

  Layla doesn’t protest, thankfully. She leaves the room, and I hear her footsteps flee down the corridor. She’s probably gone to get her mother. Grayson and I don’t have much time alone, I fear.

  “What do you want?�
�� I ask.

  He shuffles his weight. For a moment he looks unsure of himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you here alone. God…” He lets out a heavy breath. “I shouldn’t have done a lot of things. Things I will regret until the day I die.”

  His words make my heart squeeze. So many nights I lay awake in bed wishing to hear those words from his mouth, wishing just to hear his voice.

  “Your apology is appreciated but unnecessary, Your Majesty,” I force myself to say.

  “Don’t be so formal with me. Please.” Grayson’s face crinkles with what looks like pain, making my lungs tighten so it feels like I can’t breathe. He closes the gap between us, coming to a halt when I step back, holding up a hand to stop him from coming any closer.

  He still can’t give you want you want, Sophia. Be strong.

  “If you’re here to renew your previous offer,” I say, referring to his desire to make me his mistress, “let me stop you before you—”

  “I’m not. I wouldn’t be so insulting to you.” He winces. “Again.”

  For a second my stomach drops. I thought he still wanted me. Turns out he doesn’t.

  “I need you to see something.” He grabs the remote off the side table and turns on the TV that hangs over the counter.

  I eye him wearily before I turn around to face the TV. He’s turned it on to a local news channel. I freeze when I spot Grayson in front of the camera, standing partly hidden behind a podium. He’s at some kind of press conference.

  “The last few weeks, there has been an incredible amount of speculation over my personal life,” he begins, his voice coming through the television. “And an incredible amount of mudslinging at a person who does not deserve it.”

  Oh God. What is he doing? What has he done?

  “Sophia Lauren,” my name from his lips is like a slap to my face, “Sophie Laurence, should not be punished again for her past. She rose from a horrible childhood, where her mother forced her into a life of crime. She left that all behind to become the most incredible woman I know. She is an everyday hero. Generous, kind, deserving. We should be celebrating her, not trying to tear her down. The people who know her, love her. If you knew her, you’d love her.

  “Like I… Like I love her.”

  My heart jams up into my throat, a choked sob escaping before I slap a hand over my mouth.

  “Are you and Ms Lauren in a relationship?” a reporter asks.

  “Ms Lauren is the most beautiful, generous, caring woman I have ever met. I would be lucky if she were to choose me. Unfortunately, she didn’t. I have treated her so poorly I’m not sure she could ever forgive me. No, she could forgive me. She would. That’s her kind nature.

  “I’m not sure I deserve a woman like her as my queen. But if she let me, I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to her.”

  The reporters erupt into a frenzy of questions, cameras flashing like strobe lights. The television turns off and I find myself staring at a black screen. I feel Grayson’s presence behind me, his nearness sending heat through my body.

  “I meant every word,” he says, his voice quiet.

  I press my hands in my face. This can’t be happening. It can’t.

  I feel his large hands gently covering my shoulders. His touch makes me tremble, makes my knees want to buckle. He turns me to face him, but I can’t meet his eyes.

  I can’t believe what he’s done. What he said in front of everyone. In front of the world.

  “If you want me to give up the throne,” he says, “I’d do it.”

  “What?” My face snaps up from my hands. Our eyes lock. He has never looked so serious.

  “I’d renounce the throne. I’d give up being king. If that’s what you wanted.”

  I shake my head, unable to believe what he is saying. “Y-you can’t give up the throne.”

  “I can and I will. If that’s what it takes for you to agree to be with me. Sophia, I am desperately in love with you. I’ve been such an ass. I’d do anything to—”

  I shake my head again, tears and laughter forming. “I mean, you can’t give up the crown, because we could make so many wonderful changes together.”

  He blinks at me, his beautiful face visibly stunned. “You’d give up this life here? You’d move to England? Be my queen?”

  I nod.

  “But the public. The spotlight… You’d hate it.”

  “Not if you were by my side. I didn’t think I’d ever find love. I didn’t think I wanted it. But you’ve shown me the truth. In your arms…I’ve found home.”

  His hands come up around my cheeks. “Sophia, please. Is this real? You’re not playing a trick on me? Getting me back?”

  I smile. “This is so real it hurts.”

  He captures my lips with his, crushing me to him. I’m vaguely aware of clapping and a few whistles from the inner doorway. Layla must have come back with the other staff members. They must have been hiding in the corridor listening. But I barely hear them, barely notice them.

  I’m too wrapped up in my prince.

  My true love.

  King of my heart.

  Royally X-Mas’ed

  Sophia

  Christmas Eve…

  Grayson helps me step off the private boat onto the jetty. I shield my eyes at the bright Caribbean sunshine.

  Tomorrow will be our first Christmas together. We were supposed to spend it in Windsor, but after a row with his recalcitrant younger brother, Grayson bundled me into his private jet and we were suddenly away. One of the perks of dating someone obscenely wealthy, I suppose.

  I stare at our “home” for the next few weeks. This place is utterly unreal. Crystal-blue ocean as far as the eye can see, white sand outlining a small island lush with tall coconut palms. It’s paradise. And the second private island that Grayson has taken me to.

  “Do you like it?” Grayson asks. He’s studying me, a crease between his brows signaling his concern over my answer.

  I let out a laugh and throw my arms around him. “Grayson, you could take me to a hut in the middle of the desert and I’d still love it if I were with you.”

  His worry turns to his radiant smile, the one that never fails to make my heart do a flip. “This is why I love you.” Grayson slings his duffel bag over his shoulder with ease.

  I can’t help but ogle at his biceps peeking out from under the white t-shirt he’s wearing. Hot damn, this man is gorgeous.

  “I also love that you travel light.” In one graceful move, he grabs my small suitcase in his hand and wraps his other arm around me. “Jesus, this case weighs almost nothing. Do you even have anything in there?”

  “What else do I need except for a bikini?” I say, leaning into him as we walk down the pier. “And then again…maybe I won’t even need that.”

  Grayson lets out a low growl, his eyes glittering with promise for what’s to come.

  Our “home” on the island is a luxury villa situated on the beachfront on the western side of the island. It is absolutely gorgeous—high ceilings with floor-to-ceiling glass windows that can be pushed completely open so that it feels like we’re literally on the beach. There is a huge master bedroom that opens right up to the beach with en suite, complete with a large tub that opens up to the stars. That will come in handy for later.

  I go exploring and find a media room, an outdoor gym with a retractable roof and there are also two guest bedrooms that are empty. I frown as I walk back into the living room where Grayson is turning on the palm-frond-style wooden ceiling fans via remote. Not that we need it. There’s already a cool breeze wafting through the space.

  “Are Chase and Nicolai coming later?” I ask, referring to his two bodyguards who are never far from him.

  “Chase and Nicolai…don’t know where we are. Yet,” Grayson says with a gleam in his eye.

  I laugh. Now the sudden departure makes sense. “Are you running away from your bodyguards again, Your Majesty?”

  “Never. Just…making them work for their pay.�
��

  I tsk under my breath. “Nicolai will not be pleased.”

  “When is Nicolai ever pleased?”

  He has a point.

  Still, part of me thought that this island getaway, far from prying eyes, would have been one last chance for the four of us to…play together. Just one last time.

  I eye Grayson up, his shirt sticking slightly to his firm chest from sweat. As far as solo island playmates, he’ll do. He’ll do indeed.

  “So…alone on a deserted island,” I say, my voice turning as molten as the warm honey trickling between my legs.

  Grayson’s eye gleams as he stalks towards me. His phone beeping causes him to curse.

  I laugh. “Probably Nicolai.”

  “Let me turn this damn thing off.”

  I scan the living area while he does his thing. Beautiful marble benchtops, stylish yet comfortable furniture that is begging to be laid across. Or fucked on.

  On the dining room table is a welcome platter of chocolate-dipped strawberries, sliced mangos, two champagne flutes and a bottle of Moet on ice. What a lovely touch.

  Beside it is a welcome letter, presumably from the owner of the island, addressed to…

  Mr James Bond.

  I chuckle, remembering the fake name that Grayson and the boys used the first time they checked into my hotel in Monaco. I wonder if this was Chase’s doing.

  “What are you chuckling at, my love?” Grayson asks, coming up beside me and throwing a silent, dark-screened phone on the table.

  I wave the letter at him. “Mr Bond?”

  He grins. “Does that make you Moneypenny?”

  “I can be whoever you want me to be, Your Highness.”

  He pulls me into his arms and kisses my nose. “How about you be…Sophia. And I’ll be Grayson.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him as I snuggle in closer. “Not Prince Grayson.”

  “Just Grayson.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I say before he kisses me, hot and deep, and lifts me onto that kitchen table…positioned at just the right height.