Virgin Bride(136)
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 slapping 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.”