Royal Fake

“Of… Ireland.” She had the audacity to roll her eyes.

“Yes,” I glared, playfully.

“Sorry, but I’m not your girl.” She shook her head and continued to collect her things. “I don’t want to design on the sly, I want to live a normal life like a normal person. Being a queen is not the enticement you think it is.”

“What would make this work for you?” I couldn’t believe I was asking but with the possibility of her really leaving and thus making it almost impossible for me to find someone other than Lucy, I was about to become frantic.

“I live and work in New York, build my brand, continue to work with our non-profit.” She looked at me as if these were things that couldn’t be accomplished.

“What if I said yes. Then what?” I couldn’t definitively say yes, and I knew it. I wasn’t sure if there was a way around it or not, I’d never considered a working arrangement for the queen, perhaps it could be done. “You’d still have to live in Ireland, but New York could happen more than you think it might, perhaps even every weekend depending on the availability of our private jet. Anything can be considered; I just need you to tell me that you’ll think about it.” I was slightly hopeful again when I saw her glint in her eyes.

She took a deep breath. “I can’t.”

“What about the children, didn’t you mention wanting a baby like your friend? Isn’t the opportunity to be a mother a benefit?” I saved my winning card until the end and as I mentioned it her eyes lit up.

“Being a mother…” She shook her head as if to shake her thoughts out of it and she sighed. “That would be amazing.”

“Great, so Hamilton or humping? Or both?” I flashed her my badass grin. “I still get you for the day and I want you to consider motherhood if need be, but moreover being my queen.” I bowed to her for effect.

“Don’t,” she scolded with a harsh stare.

“So, shall I call for tickets or extra bathrobes?” I walked over to the phone near the bed.

“Both.” Her face blushed and she turned beet red.

We got tickets for the only performance that day, at three o’clock. We quickly showered and I did my best not to take her again in the shower; thinking of the ways I could ravage her after the show and dinner held me at bay. I paid for box seats at the theater and made reservations for the finest steakhouse in town. We were ready to go.

“Liam?” She looked at me wearing the hot number she had on the night before. “Do we have time for me to go home and get something decent to wear?” She knew we didn’t have time, but she was right, her outfit was too sexy for the matinee.

“Right, yes. Um, there’s a Bloomingdale’s on the corner. We’ll have to make it fast.” Her eyes widened in shock.

“We’re going to just walk in there buy me a dress for the night and take off, we only have like half an hour.” The look of panic on her face was adorable.

“You’re absolutely right. Let me call Bloomingdale’s and have a few gowns set aside for you. What size?” I picked up the phone, ready to call.

“Um, size four. Wow, this is nuts.”

“Yep, that’s how I roll,” I spoke with the woman on the phone, said who I was and within ten minutes we were in the store buying up gowns.

“Stop it, Liam. I just need one,” she protested after I’d asked the clerk to ring up the third dress she’d tried on.

“I like them all.” I gushed, “But wear that one. Now, we have to go.” I turned to the clerk and handed her my black AmEx.

“I can pay for it,” Avery’s voice faltered a little.

“But you won’t. I’m paying, I insist, and we don’t have time for a fight. Have them take the tags off and let’s go.”

“Um, thank you.” She seemed so embarrassed that I was buying her clothing.

“You’ll have to get used to my buying you beautiful things when you’re queen,” I said loud enough for everyone around us to hear. There was an audible gasp behind us, and Avery glared.

“Come, now Princess, we have a show to get to.” I enjoyed taking a piss out of her, she was feisty enough to rile me up, tonight was going to be fun.

“You’re horrible,” she scoffed as we got into the limo.

“Sad, but you’re the only one who thinks so. Haven’t you seen Pretty Woman? This is supposed to be romantic.” I touched her knee. “You looked too gorgeous in all of them, I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s not romantic, it’s controlling and…” she gave me the side-eye, “I hope you enjoy wearing them.” She folded her arms over her chest and tried to pretend I wasn’t there.