Royal Rock:A Bad Boy Royal Romance(6)

By: B. B. Hamel

As I clicked on yet another tabloid article about Trip, I heard a knock at my door.

Without thinking, I stood up and padded over to the door. The stone floor was strangely warm under my feet, which surprised me.

I took the handle and pulled it open.

Trip grinned at me, his beautiful blue eyes staring into mine. He looked even better now than he had earlier in a pair of tailored dress pants and a white dress shirt, tucked in, the top button undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I could see tattoos inked on his forearms, disappearing up his sleeves.

I blinked, surprised, and couldn’t say a word.


The worst part of being a king was not being able to do whatever I wanted.

That was the paradox of power. When you were the most important person in the country, people did everything they could to try to control you. I had guards around me at all times, men utterly loyal to the crown. I knew their type. Hell, I was their type. I had served in the Starklandian military like every man of royal blood does, and I’d fought in the civil war before my brother was killed. But they were around to both keep me safe and to keep tabs on me for the ministers and their cabal.

The ministers, for their part, wanted to control what I thought and did. They were constantly feeding me information and opinions, hoping I’d make some decree or other about some obscure statute that would no doubt benefit their various interests nicely. I was constantly bombarded with appointments and responsibilities, and that meant I rarely had time to do anything I really wanted to do.

But I was still Trip Brunhild. I’d slipped many an escort in my time, and I’d no doubt slip many, many more in my years as king.

As soon as we got back into the castle, I headed toward my chambers in the west wing. But instead of cutting down my hallway, I slipped behind a statue and ran down a false stairway. I could hear my guards trying to keep up, but the twisting passageways could get confusing in the inner keep.

I’d spent my childhood wandering the hallways of the castle. It was built like a maze on purpose to confuse assassins and attackers. The guards spent time in the castle, but they didn’t live there. I was able to lose them pretty quickly.

I smiled to myself and found myself in an empty apartment. I quickly removed my jacket and made myself a little more comfortable. I hated wearing the damn suit, but it was a part of the job. I had to look like a king as much as act like a king.

I left the apartment and headed toward the east wing, where our guests were staying. I found a control panel and typed a few commands.

“Yes, sir?” Maximillian answered.

“Hi, Max. Where’s the girl staying?”

“Sir, aren’t you supposed to be in a cabinet meeting?”

“Probably,” I said, “but your king is ordering you to tell me where the girl is, Max.”

He sighed. Maximillian had been a servant of my family for a very, very long time. He was really my closest confidant and advisor, and more like a father to me than my own father was.

“I’m getting tired of you playing that card, Trip,” he said.

“I know you are, Max, but I love it.”

“She’s in room twelve thirty, and her parents are right next door.”

“Damn. Right next door? You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did,” Max said. “You think I’d leave a lady unguarded around you?”

“That’s my boy,” I said. “Make it a challenge. Bye, Max.”

“Goodbye, Your Highness.”

I switched the communications off and headed down the hall, whistling and smiling to myself. The servants I encountered all looked absolutely shocked to see their king walking the halls without an escort, his sleeves rolled up, his jacket removed. They shouldn’t have been surprised, since they all knew me fairly well.

I was a notorious playboy after all. Starkland loved its bad boy prince. And truthfully, I had a hell of a time playing into that fucking role.

Right now, though, I wasn’t the bad boy or the king. I was just Trip, and I wanted to see that girl again.

I finally found her apartment and knocked. After a second, she pulled the door open.

And stared at me, shocked. She was probably surprised to see the king actually coming to her door alone like this.

I grinned at her, loving the look on her face.

“Invite me in,” I commanded after a second.

That snapped her out of it. “Aren’t you supposed to ask?”

“I’m the king,” I said. “I get to make commands.”

She shook her head. “You’re not my king.”

“I’m everyone’s king.”

“What do you want?” she asked.

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