Royal Fake

“Ah, Your Highness, you’re finally awake. I was just about to call emergency services, it’s nearly one in the afternoon,” The man said in a faint Irish accent much like Liam’s.

I cradled the sheets to my chest and rocked back and forth gently, what the hell had I gotten myself into?

“Yes, yes.” Liam was still groggy and disoriented. “Just take whatever is on my calendar off for the day and order us a full Irish breakfast.” Liam looked at me and smiled. “James, this is Avery, Avery… James.” His head sunk back into the pillow.

I did my best to bow to him. “Your Majesty,” I said, so embarrassed I nearly cried.

This made Liam bust out into laughter. “Right… the Prince of Ireland.” He looked at me and ruffled my hair. “I’m the Prince of Ireland.” He kissed my lips and turned to James. “That will be all James, leave us.”

With that, the man in a business suit collected the dirty dishes from the table near the terrace and walked out of the living room as my stomach dropped to the floor.

Chapter 6

Liam

I had planned to break the news of my royalty a little more gingerly than I ended up doing. I was caught with my pants down, so to speak, and didn’t have much of a choice. I’d never slept in that late in my life, so rightfully James was worried about me. His job was, among other things, to keep me alive. We had an arrangement: he had free access to my suite with the understanding that he only violate my privacy when absolutely necessary. When I looked at my cell phone and saw that there were fifty-three missed calls, panic must have driven him to use his key. I turned to Avery to deal with the aftermath of my shocking revelation. She was shaking like a leaf clutching the sheets to her beautiful naked body.

“I’m assuming you’d like to know what’s going on?” I offered a warm smile as she simply nodded her head. “I am the prince of Ireland. The man who was just in here is James, my trusted butler. He’s been with me for years. He’s always very discrete so you can stop trembling.” I took her hand. “I didn’t want to tell you because when I tell women who I am, it often changes things. They get all starry-eyed and ravenous thinking perhaps they may become a princess. I didn’t want you to know. You were so delightful and fun. I thought you knowing I was a prince might ruin our moment.” I gave her hand a squeeze and let it go.

“I see. Um, so do you take a lot of women to bed? Is that what prince’s do?” The shaky sound of her voice hurt me. Yes, it is what I had done, several times in fact, but with her I wanted it to be something more. She was special.

“I have.” I had to be honest with her. “But Avery, you’re different.” By the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t about to buy that.

“Right, different. I’m sure.” She was freezing over really fast. “Were you going to hook up with someone in New York no matter what? Is that your thing? Pretend you aren’t a prince, get a woman in bed, live like a commoner and then go back to your palace on a grassy hill?” Ooh, she was getting fired up, perhaps she truly was Irish.

“Well…” I wasn’t sure exactly how to discuss the issue of my prior relationships and the people I’d fucked and remain honest.

The truth was, I did hook up with a lot of random women when I was in New York. I loved New York women, they were independent, sexy, strong-willed, my favorite sort of person. Irish women were fiery but New Yorkers had a kind of charm I really admired and Avery is no exception in that regard.

“I have done that, yes.” Her head dropped and her eyes focused on her fingers which were nervously rolling the cotton sheets into a long twisted strand. “You wouldn’t want me to lie to you, right?” I touched my hand to her chin and brought her gaze back up to me.

“No, but I think I should go. I’m… this… I think I’ve made a mistake.” She gathered the sheets about her and moved away from me, off the bed.

“How does my being a prince make this any different? Was I more appealing as a diplomat? Did you assume diplomats didn’t bring women back to their hotel rooms? What does my being a prince have to do with anything?” I was genuinely curious.

“I’m sorry, Liam… or Your Highness. This was a mistake, regardless of your title. I just, last night I was so attracted to you, I wasn’t thinking straight. I… this isn’t me. I’m not that woman. I don’t want to be another notch on your bedpost. I’m worth more than that. I promise I won’t say anything about you to the press or anything… we’ll just let this all go as a fun night. And it was fun… thank you.” She was about to walk into the bathroom, no doubt to retrieve her clothes when I stood up, morning wood flagging and approached her.