Royal Pain (His Royal Hotness 1)

Garrett always told me my promiscuity would come back to haunt me, but I never really believed him. The fact that it is now, with a woman he met a long, long time before I did, just makes the sting a little worse.

“I need to go,” I tell her.

“I know.” She turns around in my arms, hugs me tight as she presses soft kisses into my neck and jaw. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

“Sure. What do you need?” Right now I’d give her anything, give her everything, if she asked for it. The fact that I know she won’t only makes me want to do it more.

“I just want to get these ready.” She lays four thick pieces of toast out on the counter and covers each one with a piece of cheese. Then she flips two eggs into the center of each piece, tops them with slices of bacon that were sizzling in another pan and then crowns the whole thing with another piece of bread.

Then she’s wrapping the sandwiches in pieces of aluminum foil and putting them in a small pape

r sack, which she hands to me. “Give the extras to the guys. Tell them I’m sorry for keeping them sitting around all night.”

I stare at her, completely and totally awed. I start to thank her, to tell her she really didn’t have to do that. But all that comes out is, “I’m totally crazy about you.”

Savvy’s eyes go wide with surprise, but when I make no move to take the words back, she flushes with what I think is pleasure. “Yeah, well, I like you, too.”

“Wow, that’s big talk. Don’t hurt yourself.”

She rolls her eyes, even as she leans in for a quick kiss that turns into a slightly longer kiss. “I really hope it’s good news for you and Garrett,” she whispers against my lips.

“Yeah, me, too.” Anything else doesn’t bear thinking about. “I’ll call you when I get the chance.”

“No worries,” she tells me. “Now go before your breakfast gets cold.”

Chapter 17

The drive back to the palace seems to take forever, even with Niall and Lucas going on about how much they like Savvy—and how much they think I should “try keeping this one around for a while.” Avery doesn’t comment, but I figure he’ll loosen up eventually, once he gets used to the fact that I don’t stand on the same kind of ceremony the rest of my family always has. Plus, it’s kind of nice to have someone on the detail who doesn’t know what a slacker I am and who hasn’t had to clean up any of my messes…

The fact that I’m thinking the same thing about Savvy feels strange—relationships have never been my thing, thanks to an up close and personal view of my parents’ own disastrous match before my mother’s death—but it also feels surprisingly right.

I don’t know where this is going to end—God knows, we’ve got some strikes against us—but I do know that one night with Savvy is nowhere near enough to satisfy me. Then again, right now I can’t imagine a thousand nights being enough.

I pull up to the palace ten minutes before the meeting is scheduled to start. Knowing the king would not approve of me attending a meeting in jeans and a T-shirt, especially one of this magnitude, I hightail it up four flights of stairs to my suite.

I really need a shower, but there’s no way I’m risking being late, so I settle for the basic hygiene necessities before grabbing the first suit I find. Exactly nine minutes later—after tying my tie as I traverse the halls of the palace, I’m settled in the large conference room, waiting for my father to arrive.

Every chair around the table is taken and there’s a palpable air of excitement in the room that has me nearly jumping out of my skin. I’ve done a pretty good job of acting normal so far, but if this goes on much longer I’m going to lose my shit completely.

Next to me, Sebastian Mireaux—director of royal security—connects his laptop to the smartboard in obvious preparation for his slide show. I lean over, about to ask him if there’s anything he can share with me, but the king chooses this moment to walk in, grim faced.

Underneath his stoic demeanor, he looks exhausted. Not that I blame him. I haven’t been sleeping much myself, not when every time I close my eyes I see my brother begging for his life. Or worse, begging for death even as he holds out hope that we will rescue him.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” my father says as he makes his way around to the seat right in the middle of the conference table. “I trust you have the information that I asked for.”

He nods to me as he settles into his chair, and I nod back. Then we turn away as one. It’s our standard greeting—our standard interaction, actually—a lesson I learned early and well at my father’s knee.

“We’ve spent the last twelve hours going over every piece of information we have with regards to the DPL, Your Majesty,” Pierre says, but his pen is moving so hard and fast that I’m afraid the thing is going to take flight. “Safe houses, compounds, membership lists, intercepted documents, surveillance photos.”

“And?” the king prompts.

“And nowhere did we find any evidence that the person described by our witness has any connection to the Libération-Est.”

Just that easily, I feel my optimism start to flag. That means the witness had either the tattoo or the face wrong—and trying to get a warrant without those key pieces of information is going to be almost impossible, even when it’s the crown prince’s life on the line.

“Yet you called me here for this briefing.” My father’s tone is less than impressed, which is the first thing we’ve been able to agree on in pretty much forever. “I expected more than this.”

I’m not willing to jump to that conclusion yet. From the years I’ve been on this council, I know that Pierre tends to line up all his ducks in a row and explain those ducks in great detail before getting to what we need. Even if what we need is for him to give us the money shot and then work his way back from there. He’s an amazing analyst and an even better investigator, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t frustrating as shit at times like these.