Royal Rock:A Bad Boy Royal Romance(10)

By: B. B. Hamel


I crumpled up the note and slipped it into my little clutch. No, I wasn’t going to meet the king for some secret rendezvous. I was going to stay right here and eat this nice dinner and enjoy myself.

There just wasn’t anything tempting about this bad boy king. At least, I had to keep telling myself that if I was going to be able to resist him.





TRIP





I hated shaking hands. You could never be sure where their fingers had just been, and they always held on for too long. Everyone wanted a piece of their king, and I didn’t have very many pieces to give.

The only hand I enjoyed touching was Bryce’s. I saw the look on her face when she read my note. She had looked defiant but excited, her breath coming in sharp and short.

I did my duty and gave everyone a small piece of attention. It was part of my job to glad-hand these people, since one day I might need them. I had to keep them happy if I wanted to keep them obedient.

Though how many of these people in here were supporting the rebellion, I couldn’t be sure. Some of them were rebellious bastards, and that was certain, but how many of them exactly was a mystery.

It didn’t matter, at least not tonight. I wasn’t going to solve any serious national crises over a feast.

No, I had more important things to do.

Once I was finished with the room, I quickly disappeared out the front door. My security detail stuck with me as I doubled back through the side halls, heading toward the balcony.

I pushed open the doors and stepped outside. I looked at the security captain, a man named Alfonse.

“Al, stay back, will you? The girl might be coming soon. Let her through if she shows.”

He nodded. “Very well, sir.”

They melted into the hallway as I stepped out onto the large balcony. It overlooked the city, and I was always impressed by the view.

Stehen was as modern a city as we had in Starkland, though the country was slowly catching up. The Starklandian people were hearty peasant folks, but they sure as hell loved their high-speed internet and their iPads. As far as I was concerned, progress was a great thing, and I wanted every single person in my kingdom to advance in life.

That was what bothered me the most about the rebels in the south. They wanted democracy, which was all well and good, but they also thought I was some kind of tyrant. Truthfully, the cabinet ministers did most of the ruling, and I was only consulted on the most important matters. Besides, I only wanted what was best for my people. I wanted every single one of them to have the best life possible, and I couldn’t do that with the rebels killing and attacking towns and villages.

They called me a tyrant. They called me a dictator, a killer. But the truth was, those rebels were far more violent than I ever was. I cautioned my generals, made sure they didn’t harm any civilians, but the rebels didn’t care about that. They burned, raped, and killed indiscriminately, all in the name of democracy. They were really just a bunch of killers and thieves seizing this opportunity to wreak some havoc.

I took a deep breath and then let it out, calming myself down. Democracy was something I wanted for Starkland as well, but it just wasn’t the time. Things were too uncertain.

I heard steps coming up behind me and turned. Standing in the doorway, looking nervous, was Bryce.

I grinned hugely at her. I knew she’d come. “Fancy seeing you here,” I said to her.

“It’s beautiful out here,” she said, walking toward me.

Instantly my heart started beating harder in my chest. The girl was absolutely gorgeous, with long beautiful legs and a body that I needed to feel underneath me. Every inch of her skin screamed to be touched and fucked, especially those lips.

“I come out here sometimes,” I said, turning back toward the city. “I like to look out over Stehen and think about my duties.”

“What are your duties?” she asked, coming up next to me at the balcony.

“Truthfully, not as many as you’d think. I may be the king, but it’s still the twenty-first century. I’m not some absolute dictator.”

“Sounds really difficult,” she said, sarcastic.

I laughed. “I guess you wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right. I’m just a regular peasant.”

“True. A regular peasant, but a beautiful one and with good ancestry.”

“You’re so flattering.” She rolled her eyes at me.

I laughed again, smirking at her. “What do you think of all this so far?”

“It’s nice,” she admitted. “Starkland is a beautiful country.”

“It is,” I agreed. “I love it.”

“I can see why. I mean, some of this stuff is nicer than America.”

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