The Dirty Series 1(107)

Before the first morning is over, I catch myself promising never to let things get that far with me, only to realize, with shame, that I did allow situations to escalate far beyond a reasonable point…and I didn’t even have anything close to a legitimate excuse like Marcus and my father did.

It won’t do me any good to set the bar higher than I can possibly fucking manage, so instead I remind myself to try—try—to remain reasonable, even in the face of this incredible stress.

The one bright spot is Jessica. Thinking of her face somehow excites me and calms me at the same time. As far as I knew, Marcus didn’t have that type of relationship with anyone. He was too busy making strategic “partnerships” for the sake of Saintland.

That’s one mistake I swear I will not repeat.

Jessica is the one woman for me.

It’s just that my days are so consumed with meeting after endless meeting that I can hardly break away.

On the first morning, Phillip tells me my first meeting is scheduled for 7:30, at least an hour earlier than I generally check in with my father.

“That early? What’s the meeting about?”

Phillip pulls out a tablet and swipes through what appears to be a very long list. I have to hand it to Phillip—he’s making the transition with more goddamn grace than I am. It’s also impossible to discount the network of people he must have working behind the scenes. There are strict rules about information-sharing between the household staff and assistants, but there’s no person alive who thinks they don’t help one another out in times of upheaval.

Like right now.

“It’s a weekly security briefing.”

“At 7:30 in the morning?” The only reason I was up at 6:30 is because I couldn’t sleep. I’d been lying awake in my bed, thinking of Marcus and all the shitty things I’ve said to him, since 4:00.

He swipes at the tablet again, then narrows his eyes as he reads what’s on the screen. “It says here that this is a kingdom-wide security briefing. Obviously, there would be no classified content in the schedule management system, but the only briefings you were required to attend before were the briefings for Sainthall and Sainthall Palace.”

So Marcus was overwhelmed and sleep-deprived, and had no one to take the edge off at night with a quick fuck, even if it wasn’t with a girlfriend or wife.

The security briefing is where my line of unending meetings began, and for the week leading up to the ceremony naming me crown price, it is sheer scheduling madness.

I have back-to-back meetings and briefings all morning. After three days, I successfully booked myself an hour alone to work out in the palace gym in the afternoon. The only problem is that it means the final meeting of the day gets pushed past dinner.

And nothing ever runs on schedule.

Meetings go over the scheduled time, and over, and over, and by the time I’m done for the day, the only thing I have energy for is going back to my rooms and collapsing into bed. Alone. To sleep.

On the fifth day, I miss Jessica so much that I go to her rooms instead of mine. I’m tired of seeing her only in my daydreams or at mealtimes, and then only when I’m not being spoon-fed classified information from the revolving door of agents and cabinet members. When I arrive, she’s reading curled up on the window seat, a book open in her lap, and when I see her, I’m nearly pulled apart by envy and lust. The envy quickly dies away in a burst of empathy. Phillip doesn’t brief me on her daily schedule, but if mine is any indication, she’s busy all day, too.

When the door opens, she looks up and smiles at me, her radiant expression filled with love and adoration.

Fuck me if anything in the world means more to me than Jessica.

She stands up and tosses the book onto her seat, rushing across the room to get to me and flinging herself into my arms.

“I thought you’d never come,” she says into my ear, then takes my earlobe between her teeth and bites down just enough.

My cock is instantly hard, pressing up against the fabric of my pants, and I set her feet on the floor so she can steady herself while I kiss her deeply, then softly, then passionately enough to make up for the last five days away from one another.

When I break the kiss, she gasps for breath, her eyes glittering in the low light of her rooms. “There’s more where that came from,” she says with a wicked grin and takes hold of my hand, guiding me behind her as she makes her way to the bedroom.

I haven’t told her this, but the bedroom in the queen’s rooms is the largest in the palace. The first King of Saintland, King Harold, loved his wife, Queen Sarah, so much that he designed her rooms to be the most opulent in the entire palace.