Royal Rock:A Bad Boy Royal Romance(10)

And I kept thinking about my tour with Trip. He was so cocky and brash  most of the time, but every once in a while he gave me a glimpse of  something else. When he'd been talking about the library, and about his  family, I had seen something underneath that cocky attitude. I didn't  know what it was, but it was definitely there.

And he didn't seem as taken aback about the panties as I had hoped.  Actually, it had only seemed to encourage him. I was going to have to  think of something else to rile him up.

As we sat there enjoying the nice day, a servant appeared from around a bend.

"Miss Bryce?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"Here you are. From His Majesty."







"Thank you." The servant bowed and left.

"I'll never get used to that," Dad said. "They actually bow. It's bizarre."

"We're in a country with a king," I said. "That's weird in itself."

"Yeah," Dad agreed. "And their internet is way faster than ours."

I laughed as I opened the envelope the servant had handed me. Inside was a simple piece of paper with Trip's handwriting.

"Have dinner with me. I'll send Al for you at eight. Your parents have other plans. Trip."

"What's that?" Dad asked.

"Trip wants me to have dinner with him."

He raised an eyebrow. "Trip?"

"Yes. He insists. Anyway, do you mind?"

"Not at all," Dad said, suppressing a smile. "Lucy and I will find something else to do. It's not like this place is boring."

"Okay," I said. "I don't want to insult the king again, you know?"

"Of course not, sweetie." He checked his watch. "Let's get back so you have time to get ready."

"Okay. Thanks." We stood up and headed back to our rooms.

It only took three different sets of directions this time before we finally made it back.



AL SHOWED up at my room right on time. I followed him down the twisting hallways in silence, feeling nervous.

Al didn't seem like much of a talker, and I wasn't in the mood to chat. I  felt strangely anxious about this dinner for some reason. I was wearing  a decent summer dress, since it was warm in the castle, but I didn't  know what was appropriate to wear to dinner with the king.

And I didn't know why I cared. I was just seeing Trip, who just happened  to be the king. I didn't want to impress him, and I genuinely didn't  care if I insulted him. I'd already slapped the guy in the face and  caused a minor scandal; I doubted I could do worse by wearing something  inappropriate.

Still, I found myself caring about how I looked around him, and that  told me something about how I felt about him. I wasn't happy about it,  but I couldn't deny the obvious. I cared about what Trip thought.

Though I shouldn't have worried much. Trip wasn't exactly shy about what  he thought. The man seemed to basically say whatever came to mind and  didn't care if it was inappropriate or something like that.

Finally, our walk ended in front of a normal-looking door. Al knocked twice and then waited.

After a few seconds, the door opened. Trip smiled out at us. "Thanks for bringing her, Al," he said.

"Of course, Your Highness," he answered, and then turned and left.

Trip grinned at me. "Welcome to my corner of the castle."

He was wearing simple black dress slacks and a white button-down shirt,  the top button left open, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked  like he had been at a blue tie event all day but had just gotten home.

"This is your apartment?"

"Yes," he said. "Come on in."

Feeling a jolt of excitement, I stepped through the door and looked around.

It looked like a pretty normal apartment. I had expected a lot of fancy  things, more gold and more paintings, but instead it was pretty low-key.  It actually looked pretty clean and modern, almost industrial. There  was a couch, a television, some chairs, a deck, a table, a kitchen area,  several doors, and another hallway leading toward the back.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It's nice," I said.

"You don't sound like you think it's nice."

"It's simple. I didn't expect that."

He laughed, walking into the kitchen area. I followed him. "Well, you  get sick of all that crap after a while. When I'm here, I'm home, so I  try to leave all that royalty nonsense behind."

"Have you always lived here?"

"More or less," he said. "I've lived in other places, but when I'm in the castle, these have always been my rooms."

He pulled out a chair for me, and I sat. He went over to the counter and  opened a bottle of wine, pouring two glasses. I accepted one and sipped  it as he sat down across from me.

"What's on the menu?" I asked him. "Or are we just drinking?"

"We can just drink if you like," he said, "but I planned on having the chef send us something up. I told him to surprise us."

"Great," I said. "What if I had some allergies?"

"You don't," he said, smiling at me. "I read your file."

I frowned. "There's no file."

"Of course there's a file. We vetted you to marry me, remember?"







I sighed. "I tried to forget."

"There it is, you pretending not to like it again."

"Fortunately, I don't have to pretend like I don't want to marry you."

"Maybe, but you do have to pretend like you don't want me to press you  up against this castle wall and feel that dripping pussy with the tips  of my fingers."

"Do you always talk like this?"

"Only when I want something very badly." That smile was so wicked, I had  to sip my drink and cross my legs. "How would you prefer I spoke,  Bryce?"

"I don't know. How about you tell me about the rebels?"

He paused. I could tell I had surprised him there. "What about them?"

"Well, they want democracy. That can't be a bad thing."

He sighed. "Maybe. In your country, democracy is all well and good, but  here in Starkland, we've had a monarchy for many hundreds of years.  People don't understand a democracy. They're not ready for it."

"You can teach them."

He shrugged. "The rebels are teaching them enough."

"They're killing people," I said.

"Yes," he agreed, "they are."

"But so are you. I've read some bad things about your royal army."

"So have I," he agreed. "Not all of it is true, but some of it is.  That's the problem with a war, especially a civil war. It's always  bloody and always worse than we think it will be."

I shook my head slowly. "It can't be so simple for you."

He sighed, putting down his drink. "My people are dying, Bryce. It's not simple."

That surprised me. There was genuine emotion in his eyes. I didn't think  he was a heartless bastard, but he did seem like a playboy who didn't  think much about suffering.

That look he gave me, though, said otherwise.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Come," he called out, and then servants flooded the space.

I sat back and watched, completely taken aback.

Ten rolling trays were wheeled into the small kitchen, each one manned  by a different server. They proceeded to take the tops off the dishes as  servants placed plates and silverware around us. I sat there, basically  as still as a statue, while Trip watched me, smiling. The servants were  fast and efficient, and soon they began to place food in front of us.

The spread was incredible: rich soup, hearty breads, all different kinds  of meats and vegetables cooked in sauces I could barely describe. Once  we had plates placed in front of us, Trip stood up.

"Thank you, gentleman," he said. "If you'll excuse us."

The servants bowed in unison and then disappeared.

When they were gone, Trip sat back down. I laughed, genuinely amazed, shaking my head.

"Do you do that for all the ladies?" I asked.

"Only the special ones," he said. "Dig in. Enjoy."

We began to eat, and I had to admit that it was incredible. Starkland  wasn't a famous country or a big country, but its food was delicious,  and that was basically my main criteria for whether a country was great  or not.

According to this meal, Starkland was truly a magnificent country.

"What do you think?" Trip asked after a minute of silence while we ate.

"It's delicious," I said honestly. "I'm finally impressed."

"Interesting. It took food to impress you."

"I guess I have my weaknesses."

He smiled, nodding slowly. "Yes. I guess we all do. I can't wait to find out a few more."

"I have no more weaknesses," I said.

"I doubt that very much."

I shook my head and dug into my food. Soon we began to fall into a  normal conversation. He asked me questions about what my life was like  back home, and I got him to tell me funny stories about growing up in  the castle.

Time slowly flowed past like that. Eventually I even forgot that I was  having a meal with a king. Instead, I was just eating with Trip, some  asshole I happened to know.

Except he wasn't such a huge asshole, at least not all the time. When he  told me about how he got lost as a very little boy, wandering the halls  of the castle and crying, he wasn't being an asshole. And he wasn't an  asshole when he told me about crawling around underneath banquet tables  during a royal dinner, tying people's shoes together.