The Sinful King (Naughty Royals 1)

As I stepped inside, the four of them stood and bowed. I walked over to my seat at the head of the table.

“Gentlemen.” I sat down. They followed suit.

“This is new.” Monsieur Gaston tapped the wooden table twice. He was one of the two members I got along with best. One of the loyalists, if you may.

“I was tired of sitting down and being looked down upon when the four of you spoke,” I said.

“It served a better purpose,” Monsieur Bouchard said.

“Funny you should bring that up, because I’m finding it incredibly difficult to find what purpose you serve on this cabinet,” I said. The four of them sat up straighter, their eyes widening. Good. “Do you have a reason for missing our last two meetings?”

“I’m in the middle of a divorce,” he said. “I figured you’d know that being that you’re my daughter’s supposed boyfriend, though I will say, I like the new tabloid stories. The ones calling the entire relationship a sham.”

“Similar to the rumors of you planning riots all over the city.”

“Those aren’t rumors.” He smiled, a cynical smile. “The people do not like that they have no say in their government.”

“The people have never had a say in their government before so this . . . anarchy you’re aiming for will be disastrous if, God forbid, it came to that.” I stood quickly, the legs of the chair I was sitting on scraping the oak wood floors beneath me. “Furthermore, if you’d been here the last two meetings, you’d have been informed about the Parliament we’re hoping to form and incorporate, which will be voted on by the people.”

“Parliament?” he asked. “Voted on by the people?”

“I just said that.”

“Did my daughter put you up to this?”

“What if she did? What will you say then? That I’ve had my cock cut off and that an uninformed woman will now be ruling France?” I yelled.

He shook his head, seemingly still wrapping his head around the idea.

“I think Parliament is an excellent idea,” Monsieur Gaston said.

“I agree,” Monsieur Caron added.

“It gets my vote,” Monsieur Berger said.

Monsieur Bouchard was still silent.

“I do have one question,” Monsieur Gaston said. “What will become of us? Will we also be part of Parliament, voted on by the people?”

“That’s one of the things we need to discuss. I’ll need to keep a small cabinet of advisors,” I said. “As for the first Parliament, we’ll have to form a group that will go door to door and inform the people about this so that they can start campaigning. We should have a few representatives from each town. Men and women. We don’t want anyone to feel like they’re not being represented.”

“Would you keep this cabinet?” Monsieur Bouchard asked. “I don’t blame you if you want to get rid of us . . . of me, specifically.”

“You know what I don’t understand?” I sat back down, pulling my chair in again. “If you hate us so much, if you absolutely detest the idea of a monarchy of any kind, if you’d rather see us be attacked by every single person in our town, why be part of this cabinet at all? You could have easily walked away from my father’s cabinet. You could have easily quit when I claimed the throne. You could quit right now and go back to a life in journalism. Yet you stay. Why?”

He took a long moment to think about it. “I never liked your father as a leader. I never liked the violence or the attack-now-and-ask-questions-later mentality. I didn’t like the fact that he ignored the pleas that rang through the city and swept in here.” He paused for a beat. “He spoke about you and the way he was training you to think just like him and well, I guess I didn’t think to give you a chance. I didn’t think you’d want to change the way things were. I definitely didn’t expect talks of a Constitutional Monarchy.”

“Yet here we are.” I lifted the glass of water in front of me and took a sip.

“Yet here we are,” Monsieur Bouchard said, a small smile on his lips. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“When will you know?” Monsieur Gaston asked. “About us being part of your board of advisors?”

“When will we know?” Monsieur Caron followed.

“All of you are in. If you accept.” I stood up, this time calmly, though I really had to get out and go to London as soon as possible. “We’ll have two meetings next week. Bring your best ideas.”

I walked out of the room. Pierre handed me my cellphone as soon as I stepped out. I looked at it. Still no calls or texts from Adeline. My stomach knotted. Had I really fucked up that badly? The door opened behind me and Pierre instantly moved between me and the person.