by B. B. Hamel
And I was betting that everyone knew but me. Everyone in that room had been talking and looking at me because everyone knew why I was really there. Meanwhile, I’d been sitting at that table like an idiot, totally unaware of what was happening around me.
Trip wanted to marry me. More than that, he wanted to get me pregnant. I pictured him pressing his hard, muscular body against mine, his lips grazing my neck as he pressed my hands behind my back. Trip would take me however he wanted, because that was the kind of man Trip was.
I shook my head, dispelling that thought. It wasn’t the time to fantasize about the king. I was angry, not excited, although my wet underwear begged to differ.
I clenched my jaw and got changed out of my dress. The only thing I wanted was to get out of Starkland as fast as possible. I wanted to get on the first flight home and never, ever think about Trip, the king who wanted to knock me up and lock me away in some tower.
Once I was changed, I flopped down on my bed and resumed my internet research. I went through page after page about Trip, most of it in Starklandian and a lot of it poorly translated. I cobbled together as much information about him as I could, but none of it gave me a clearer picture.
He was a player and a bad boy. He had also served time in the military and apparently had seen real fighting. According to one article, he had been awarded one of Starkland’s most prestigious medals for bravery when he saved his entire platoon. I tried to figure out if that was real or just some crap made up by the royal publicist, but there was no more information out there about it.
I fell deep down the Trip rabbit hole. Page after page of his boyish, smiling eyes, his shadowy stubble, his perfect jaw, his dark hair. Page after page of him shirtless by the pool, dark tattoos covering his body.
Until finally someone knocked on my door.
I sat up, quickly shutting the laptop’s lid. “Who’s there?” I called out.
“It’s me.”
Lucy. I got out of bed and opened the door. She was still wearing her evening clothes, and I guessed they were just getting back.
“Where did you go?” she asked me. “People were wondering. King Christophe covered for you, but I wasn’t buying it.”
I clenched my jaw. “I had to get out of there.”
“Why?” She stepped into my room and shut the door. “It was extremely rude of you. First you slap the man, and then you leave his party out of nowhere.” She shook her head with disappointment.
“Do you know why we’re here?” I asked her.
The pause and the look on her face told me everything. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to cover herself.
“Don’t lie to me,” I said to her slowly. “I can tell you know something. Trip told me. That’s why I left.”
She sighed. “They told us earlier, after we left you in your room.”
“Dad knows too?”
“Yes, he does.”
I was absolutely furious. “And you two let me go to that dinner?”
“We didn’t see the harm. If you didn’t know, what did it matter?”
“They were all staring at me like I was a piece of meat,” I said, angry beyond words. “Hell, to them I probably was.”
“It’s not like that,” Lucy said. “Yes, they want you to marry him; and yes, they want you to bear his children. But they’re not monsters here, Bryce. They’ll treat you very, very well. You’ll have influence, power.”
“I’ll be some foreign queen brought in to make the king look better.”
“You’ll have a comfortable life. Your children will be royalty.”
“And what will I be?” I asked her, turning away. “I’ll be nothing.”
“Don’t talk that way,” Lucy said. “Do you know how many people would give anything for this opportunity?”
“They can have it,” I said. “I’m not interested.”
“Stay and hear them out. Get to know the king. Who knows, maybe you’ll like him.”
“I won’t. He’s an arrogant ass. I want to get out of here.”
“Too bad,” she said.
I turned back to her and gaped. “What?”
“I said, too bad. Your father and I already decided that we’re staying and seeing this through.”
I didn’t bother saying a word to her. I simply walked past her, out the door, and down to their room. I knocked until my father opened up and let me inside.
Their place was as lavish as mine was, but I didn’t take the time to really pay much attention to the details.
“Tell me it isn’t true,” I said to him.
He frowned. “I take it Lucy told you about the marriage thing.”
“Dad, how could you?”
“Hold on now. I’m not actually marrying you off or anything like that. All I said was we’d see what you thought.”
“Lucy tells me we’re staying.”
He sighed. “Well, part of the deal is we have to stay for these two weeks before you can decide. If we leave now, you lose your chance forever.”
“So then I lose it.”
He shook his head. “No. You’re staying.”
“What?”
“Listen to me, Bryce. Maybe you don’t want this after two weeks, and that’s fine. We’ll leave. But this is an incredible opportunity for you.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true.” He sighed, taking off his tie. “I want what’s best for you.”
“What’s best for me is leaving.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
I turned and stormed out of the room. Lucy was in the hallway and tried to speak, but I glared at her. She was smart enough to shut her mouth. I unlocked my room’s door with my palm print and then slammed it behind me.
I threw myself onto the bed, not sure if I wanted to scream or to cry.
Here I was, stuck in a foreign country, and the king wanted to make me his bride. Maybe that didn’t sound so bad, but to me it was like a death sentence.
I wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to work with people, to help them. I wanted to be my own person, not some figurehead queen that only needed to pump out babies for his royal asshole.
And everyone knew it but me.
As I went to settle into my bed, I heard another knock at my door. Wondering when the hell this night was going to end, I got up and angrily pulled the door open.
Nobody was there. Alone on the ground was a box wrapped like a present. I looked up and down the hall, but nobody was there.
Curious, I picked it up and carried it inside. I sat down on the couch and slowly unwrapped the box. The paper was thick and expensive, and the ribbon was beautiful and soft.
Inside was a plain white box. I slowly lifted off the lid and sifted through the white tissue paper.
I bit my lip at what I saw. Sitting in the box was a pair of boxing gloves and a pair of black lace panties.
That asshole. He thought this was so funny. I nearly threw the box across the room, but there was a card at the bottom. I grabbed it and turned it over, reading it.
“Bryce, sorry if I shocked you. Here’s a little token of my friendship. Trip.”
I was angry, I was humiliated, and I was strangely excited.
I didn’t understand it. I was angry and wanted to leave, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about Trip and his cocky smile. I wondered if he had picked the panties out himself, and if he had pictured me wearing them when he put them in the box. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, he was handsome as hell, by far the best-looking man I’d ever met.
But that wasn’t enough. Funny gift or not, I wasn’t going to be some breeding cow for him. Maybe I was stuck for two weeks, but that didn’t matter.
The king was never going to have me.
8
Trip
I held the paper loosely in my hands, a smile on my lips. I couldn’t help but love the headline.
“FIERY FOREIGNER SMACKS KING!”
The photograph was of Bryce in the act of s
lapping me in the face for my original comment. The article went on to detail how a sumptuous foreigner had slapped the King, seemingly unprovoked. They speculated on some possible reasons and actually weren’t so far off when they suggested I had whispered an insult in her ear.
It hadn’t been an insult. More like a promise, if anything.
As I tossed the paper aside and sipped my morning coffee, I wondered how Bryce had reacted to the present I had sent to her room. The boxing gloves were antique, but the panties were brand new, chosen specifically for her. My cock had been hard as hell as I’d put them in the box, picturing her perfect ass wearing nothing but them.
“Your Highness.”
I looked up from my breakfast. Max was standing by the door. I didn’t bother trying to correct him about my name, since I knew he wasn’t going to listen no matter how many times I commanded him to call me Trip.
“What’s up, Max?”
“You have a cabinet meeting at ten and a meeting with Lynette at eleven.”
“Cancel them.”
“Sir, they’re important meetings.”
“Clear my morning, Max. I have more pressing matters to attend to.”
He sighed. “The girl, I assume.”
“That’s right. I have two weeks to make her my queen.”
“Is that wise, Your Majesty?”
“I don’t know. Since when did I worry about what’s wise and what isn’t?”
“Since you became king.”
“Fair point, but there’s something about her.”
“The people are impressed.”
“Yeah, well, Starkish people would love a woman who slaps their king, especially since he isn’t the king they really wanted.”
“They will come around. Give the people time.”
I shrugged, sipping my coffee. “Doesn’t matter. I’m what they fucking have, right?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Besides, Bryce might be good for Starkland. Get an outside perspective.”
“Is that what you need?”
“Possibly. I never know what I need until I have it.”
Max nodded. “Sir, might I speak freely?”
“This isn’t the military, Max. Say what you want.”
“I’m worried about this girl. She doesn’t seem very fond of you.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“Maybe it would be better to marry a Starkish woman. One who actually cares about you?”
“You might be right, Max.”
“But I take it from your tone that you don’t agree.”
I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head and smiling. “Listen, Max, ever since I took the throne, this whole damn job has been one crisis after the next. It’s the rebels, it’s my successor, it’s the economy. This is the first thing I’ve been excited about.”
“You haven’t been king long, Your Highness. And nobody said ruling was easy or fun.”
“You’re very right, Max, which is why maybe finding my queen should be those things.”
He sighed. “Very well. I see your point.”
“Clear my morning.”
“As you wish.”
I stood up, grinning at him. “I have important business to attend to.”
He sighed, shook his head, and left my room.
I walked down the halls shadowed by my usual guard detail.
“Al,” I called out. He stepped up next to me.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“What do you think of our guest?”
“Which guest, sir?”
“The girl. Bryce.”
“She seems nice, sir.”
I laughed. “You wouldn’t say otherwise, though, would you?”
“I would be honest with my king.”
“Of course.” I laughed again. “And what do the people think of her?”
“I’ve heard mixed opinions.” He cleared his throat. “Men seem to respect her. Women seemed to be jealous of her.”
“Good. I can work with that.” I dismissed him with a wave as we approached her door.
I took a deep breath. I couldn’t help but imagine her answering the door wearing nothing but the boxing gloves and the panties. I knocked once, hoping she would, and hoping the guards had enough sense to stand back.
She opened after a second. I felt a little disappointed to note that she was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a gray hooded sweatshirt.
“Your Majesty,” she said, although it sounded sarcastic.
“Good morning, Bryce,” I said.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to give you that tour.”
She sighed. “Do I have much choice?”
“You always have a choice. You can sit here in your room all day, bored, or you can come spend the morning with the most interesting king in the world.”
She cracked a smile, but it was quickly gone. “Okay, fine. Let me get my shoes on.”
She walked back into her room and went over to her shoes.
“I’ll show you the throne room first,” I said.
“Throne room? You actually have a throne?”
“Of course. We don’t really use it anymore, though. Turns out a King sitting on a throne doesn’t really play that well anymore.”
She laughed slightly as she bent over to tie her shoes. As she did, her sweatshirt rode up her back slightly and her pants pulled down a hair, revealing the top of her panties.
They were black and lace.
The pair I had sent her last night.
My cock was instantly hard as my heart started to hammer in my chest. She was wearing the panties I’d sent her. I couldn’t help but picture her sliding them up her skin, slowly brushing them against her legs, only to end up against her already wet pussy.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, turning to look at me, and as our eyes met, I knew she knew.
She’d done it on purpose. The whole shoes thing was just her way of showing me she was wearing them.
A huge grin broke out across my face. “Sorry. I’m easily distracted by pretty things.”
She smiled back. “I bet it’s hard to be the king then.” She finished tying her shoes and then straightened up. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.” We headed out of the room together, and I felt like I was flying high.
Bryce was a fascinating creature. I couldn’t put those panties out of my head, even for a second. I knew she liked to pretend she hated me, and yet she still wore them. Maybe just to taunt me, but still.
I was willing to bet they were dripping wet and ruined already.
9
Bryce
I loved the look on his face as I straightened up. He was completely surprised and thrown off guard, and I couldn’t help but smile at it.
If he was going to play games, then I could play too. He sent me those panties probably assuming they would get me fired up, and at first, they did.
But I quickly realized that if I was going to get through the next weeks, then I couldn’t give into his provocations. I had to try to keep it cool and even play the game right back if possible.
So wearing the panties and conveniently needing to get my shoes on in front of him was all part of my plans. King asshole wanted to play games, but he didn’t know what I had in store for him.
We walked together out of my room and headed down the hallway. The security detail, three big, nondescript men, one of which I recognized as Al from the night before, followed at a respectful distance but still close.
“Are they always following you around?” I asked Trip.
“More or less,” he said. “But we can lose them if you want.”
“That’s probably a bad idea.”
“Maybe, but if you want me to find out just how ruined those panties are, we’ll need a little privacy.”
I blushed. “These panties are fine.”
“I’m sure,” he murmured, smiling. “Well, here we are.”
He pushed open a la
rge oak door and we stepped inside.
The throne room was long and wide with antique fireplaces lining the hall. It wasn’t as big as the banquet hall from the night before, but it was definitely older. Everything was original; all the stonework and the decorations were faded and worn, but still magnificent.
“Like I said, it doesn’t get much use except for tours,” he said as we walked down the hall, “but it’s still pretty impressive, I think. Over seven hundred years old. It’s part of the original structure.”
“Wow,” I said, genuinely impressed. “This is pretty amazing.”
“And here we are. The thrones.”
The thrones were two gold chairs with deep seats and high backs, but I had to admit that I was a little let down. They were plain, with only the minimum of decorations.
“Simple,” I said.
He laughed. “That’s right. Starkish Kings were known for their seriousness and their frugality back in the old days. These are supposed to be a symbol of our simple might.”
I smiled. “I like them then.”
“Go ahead. Take a seat.”
I stared at him. “Seriously?”
“Go ahead. Trust me, you won’t break it.”
I slowly sat down in the king’s throne. Trip stood behind me and bent down, his lips near my ear.
“What do you think?” he said softly.
“I can understand why people like this.”
“You look perfect in that chair,” he said.
I pictured ruling over a country from this chair. I couldn’t imagine how many edicts and lives had been changed from the very spot I was sitting. Probably countless.
I stood up, shaking my head. I couldn’t get too seduced by all this. “Come on,” I said. “Show me something else. Really try to impress me.”
“Not impressed enough?” he asked, laughing.
“Not yet.”
“Good. I’ve got a lot more.”
We went back down the long hall and out into the main part of the castle. We walked side by side, heading through the maze-like passages.
“Do you know where we are right now?” he asked.