The King's Secret Bride: A Royal Wedding Novella (Royal Weddings Book 3)

by Alexis Angel

  He pulled me under once. I won’t let him do it again. The farther away I am from him, the safer I’ll be. I mean, my defenses pretty much suck, but I know that now, so why voluntary stay in the battle zone when I’ll lose?

  What hurts the most is that I thought he really, genuinely cared about me. He seemed to actually want me, to possibly even enjoy my company. He couldn’t have been faking all that.

  But he is the expert at this game, making women feel like a million bucks and then discarding them when he doesn’t need them anymore.

  That’s exactly what he did to me. I thought I was immune, given that I knew his strategies, but he’s too strong. He’s the mastermind, dictating his pawn pieces and their every move.

  Just like with those bribes to the gala. It’s all puffery.

  I swig back a large gulp of wine, finishing the bottle, and I laugh at the tiny droplet left.

  Oops. That was quick.

  I shimmy my shoulders, feeling a little bit better about myself, and go back inside the room.

  I check my phone, making sure that my flight reservations have been confirmed, and I start to pack up the mess on the floor.

  I might not be getting paid for this job, and it might look like a fucking stain on my career—if I still have one after this—but I won’t allow myself to be humiliated again.

  I’ll just call him a black mark, something and someone beyond saving.

  I just wish it didn’t sting so bad.

  Yeah, okay, I admit it. I fucking fell in love with my client. It sounds better when I say I fell in love with the man I used to dream about, Prince—well, now, King—David.

  I shouldn’t have, but there are a lot of things that people shouldn’t do every day, and they still do it.

  I’ll move and get on with my life, just like every other heartbroken and career-oriented woman out there.

  This one might just take some time, given his…stature.

  I get ready for bed, untucking the covers and getting myself comfortable. But there’s one more thing I must do.

  I open my laptop and begin typing:

  Dear Your Majesty King David Arthur Lockridge,

  Please consider this my resignation letter. Effective immediately, I will no longer be acting as Your Majesty’s Public Relations Consultant.

  The time I spent as an employee of Your Majesty has been valuable. I appreciate your trust in me, and the accommodations provided. However, I will be moving on to pursue other endeavors.

  Regretfully yours,

  Vivienne Taylor

  Chapter 21

  David

  Now, this…this is more fucking like it!

  A bottle of champagne pops open as the cork shoots across the room and smashes one of the lightbulbs from the chandelier. There’s a moment of silence as everyone considers what just happened, but then a cheer erupts through the room and someone passes me the fresh bottle.

  I’m pretty sure that this is one of the bottles that was meant to be saved for my wedding, a gift from a grandparent or something, but now’s a good as time as any to open it.

  Ever since Vivienne took off, the wedding’s been pretty much cancelled.

  Which is good.

  It’s better than good—it’s fucking great!

  The whole thing was a sham anyway, to save face after the press caught me with a face full of pussy whilst at a party. It’s not as though we were ever really getting married, and it’s much better it ended in true David Lockridge-style.

  The whole world expects me to be a party animal with more money than sense, so I might as well give them what they want.

  “A toast!” I yell into the crowd, lifting the green bottle high into the air. “To freedom!”

  “Freedom!” the crowd shouts back.

  “To King David!”

  I roll my eyes and feign some humility. But I love it. So what if I’m not prim and proper, eating tea and crumpets, and going hiking with corgis?

  The people clearly still love me.

  “David! David! David!”

  The chanting continues and grows louder as I lift the bottle of champagne again. I smirk, flashing rows of teeth as I tilt the bottle to my lips and drink, unstopping, until the bottle is empty.

  As I drink, champagne spills from the corner of my lips and drips further down my neck and on to my shirt. But I’m adamant to finish this fucking bottle—the public demands it.

  When I’m finished, I tip the bottle upside down to prove that there’s nothing left inside. The crowd, which had been watching me with bated breath, explode into cheers before disbanding into the rest of the party.

  I feel two pairs of petite hands pull at my shirt and pull me back into the fray.

  “Your Highness, that was so impressive,” a redhead purrs in my ear as her hands run over my body.

  “I bet that champagne was really nice. Can I have a taste?” A blonde appears beside her and blinks at me with large doe eyes. She looks so corruptible and fuckable, but as her hand ‘accidentally’ brushes over my cock, I know she’s not as innocent as she’s pretending.

  And I’m curious to see what she wants to do next.

  “It was, but there’s none left for you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I think I see some…”

  She gently tilts my head to the side and traces a line along my neck with her tongue. She bites gently at the skin of my jugular before she pulls away, and I feel my cock stir for a moment.

  Why would I give up having an all-you-can-eat buffet of beautiful girls, just so I could be married to one woman?

  Even if that woman is Vivienne Taylor.

  “Come with us!”

  The redhead and the blonde each pull one of my arms, tugging me happily outside and toward the pool. They push me into a sun lounger, and another glass of champagne—or it could be vodka in a champagne flute—is pushed into my hands as more girls lean in over them.

  “So, your highness, what will you do now that you’re single?”

  “Who will you play with first, Your Majesty?”

  “Oh, King David, I was so afraid you’d get married without me ever having the chance to fuck you.”

  Their words in my ear and their hands running over my body make every nerve ending light up. The girls crowd around me, pushing their breasts forward, and I know that all of them are mine for the fucking taking. Mine for the fucking.

  One sits on my lap, straddling me as she grinds down against my cock. Even though I’m only half hard, I bet it’s still bigger than anything these girls have ever felt before in their lives.

  If I wanted to, I could fuck them and give them a night that they’ll never forget.

  But that’s the thing.

  I don’t really want to.

  Surrounded by blondes, each time I see a flash of brunette in the crowd I feel my heart skip a beat, hoping that it’s Vivienne. But it’s not—why would it ever be her?

  I need to see her face.

  I need to explain to her and tell her the truth.

  Playing along with the blondes and hiding my disdain, I pick up the girl who’s straddling my lap and rise to my feet. I spin her around and drop her back where I was sitting.

  Despite the growing tent in my pants, I pick up another bottle of champagne, and I retreat to my room alone.

  I hear the girl’s whimper, and I fake pout, but I don’t give a damn.

  How can that fucking brunette be so hot, and yet such a fucking boner-killer? And this isn’t the fucking first time she’s done it, either.

  The door slams behind me, and even though I’ve left, I hear the party continue. I, instead, collapse into the chair in front of my desk and take a long hard look at myself in the mirror.

  I can’t live with Vivienne, but it seems I can’t fucking live without her, either. Even my dick doesn’t seem to want anyone else.

  Fuck.

  Oh, fucking hell.

  Is this what love is?

  I run my hands through my hair and get out m
y phone. I should call her again, tell her how fucking sorry I am for fucking her about like this.

  No, shit, I can’t.

  I’ve been drinking, and she’ll hear the slur in my speech and hate me further.

  Fuck.

  What am I going to do?

  How am I going to make her see that I love her? She’s called the wedding off, and I don’t know where she is, and she won’t answer my fucking calls…

  I might be the fucking King but, shit…she’s my Queen.

  And I’m fucking lost without her.

  Chapter 22

  Vivienne

  There’s a pit in my stomach from the moment I wake up.

  A part of me doesn’t want to have to do this but… David has forced my hand. I’m Vivienne Fucking Taylor, and no man is allowed to make an ass out of me like that. Even if he’s a King.

  I continue to go over the details, trying to figure out what went wrong as I start to get ready. It all started when I thought that I could change him. I’m the best of the fucking best...but David?

  Not even Mother Theresa would be able to make David bend the knee and fall in line.

  After dealing with David, even the Pope would risk eternal damnation just for the chance to strangle him.

  I deserve a fucking raise.

  Just you wait, as soon as I get back to New York, I’m demanding a raise, and I’m going to spend that money on booze so that I can drown out every memory of him.

  As I get dressed for the morning and psyche myself up for this day ahead, it almost feels as though I’m getting ready for yet another battle. I’ll need to pick out my best armor and find something that’s going to protect me better than before.

  Not that David will even be there—his schedule is fully booked for today.

  But when he watches the security footage to catch one last glimpse of me, I want him to see me at my best.

  So that he truly knows what exactly he’s given up on.

  In the end, I decide to wear black. It’s fitting in more ways than one. The pencil skirt hugs my ass, and I know he’ll remember my lace panties. My white blouse is purposely unbuttoned and slightly translucent to show off my black lacy bra.

  And after all, no outfit is complete without a pair of Louboutins, right?

  With my letter in my handbag, I head to David’s manor. As the crest comes into sight, I see the remnants of last night’s party being ushered out by Charles. Blondes in bikinis and barely-there cover-ups spill out into taxis, like rats jumping from a sinking ship.

  But I know they’ll be back again tonight.

  After all, this is David we’re talking about.

  I push past a pair of men as they collapse into an Uber and knock on the door. I look up into the security camera, giving the whole house my best ‘Fuck you’ glare.

  But as the door swings open, it’s like I’ve been slapped in the face.

  Have you ever been completely caught off guard? Because right now, I might as well have been back in that coat closet, with the King’s tongue circling my clit.

  “What are you doing here?”

  David swings the door open with reckless abandon, revealing his shirtless torso and untamed bed head. He rubs sleep from the corner of his eyes before he slowly begins to realize who I am.

  “Vivienne…”

  He whispers my name as I stare at him in shock and horror. But I quickly regain my composure, tensing my jaw and pushing past him into the foyer.

  “You’re supposed to be out.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t feel like it.”

  “Why not?” I snap. “Too hungover?”

  “Perhaps there were some things that I didn’t feel like facing alone.”

  “Oh, you poor thing. I’m sure one of those blondes I saw on the drive way would have been happy to stick around.”

  “Vivienne, I…”

  There’s no point in dragging this out any longer. I didn’t come here to have witty banter with David and for him to lure me back in again. That’s how he got me the first time.

  I should have been more professional then, but at least I can be professional now. I pull out the letter from my handbag and hold it out to him.

  “Take it.”

  “What is it?”

  “Take it.”

  David takes the letter out of my hand and unceremoniously tears it open, tossing the envelope to the ground as he reads my resignation.

  My heart is beating in my throat. I move to make sure the door is behind me. Once he reads it and accepts it, I can be on my way.

  “Vivienne, what is this?”

  “Exactly what it says it is.”

  “You want to resign?”

  “No, I am resigning. It’s right there in black and white.”

  I almost feel sorry for David. But he should’ve thought about how I felt when he pulled that girl into his lap and put on a big smile for the cameras.

  “No.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” David drops the letter to the floor and looks up to me. “I said no.”

  “You can’t make me stay.”

  “You haven’t even heard my side of the story.”

  I roll my eyes and scoff. “Your side of the story? The whole world has seen your side of the story, David. It’s on the front page of every fucking tabloid!”

  “Okay! So I fucked up!” David’s voice raises, but I’m not going to back down that easily.

  He might be King and used to getting his own way, but his frustration doesn’t frighten me.

  “Understatement of the century.”

  “I fucked up, and I’m fucking sorry, okay, Viv? Is that what you want to hear?”

  “No, that’s not what I want to hear.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I shouldn’t need to hear it in the first place!”

  David runs a hand through his hair and sighs. I shake my head at him and feel myself begin to tremble with anger. After all this, he still thinks that one little apology is going to make everyone feel better and make this whole shit storm blow over?

  “I thought I could rely on you, David. You tricked me into believing that you were capable of being so much more. Then, at the first opportunity you get, you go back to who you were.”

  “That’s not who I am.”

  “You sure about that?” I look around the chaos from last night’s party and raise an eyebrow.

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Vivienne, I’m changing. Look, you’ve changed me.”

  “Don’t try and pin this on me.” I go to turn away, but David snatches my wrist, holding me in place.

  He pulls me back to look at him. I wrench myself free.

  “I’m sorry I let you down, Viv.”

  “That’s what you think this is about?” I laugh in disbelief. “You think this is because you failed at my program to reform your image? I’m pissed at you because you fucking humiliated me!”

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, of course you didn’t. You just weren’t thinking. But in one blurry, low quality soft-porn-picture of you and some girl, you’ve made me look like some weak victim to be pitied and to be felt sorry for.”

  “But you’re not like that—”

  “No! I’m not like that! I’m Vivienne Taylor! Then, to make it worse, when you come home pissed out of your head, you don’t even care how much you’ve hurt me. When I try to tell you how I feel, you throw it all back in my face.”

  As I verbally tear into him, David almost looks like a guilty school boy. I think I can see genuine remorse in his eyes, but it’s too late now.

  “You told me to basically go fuck myself. So, tell me, Your Highness, why would I want to stay around after that?”

  I can tell that my yelling is taking him off guard. He’s grasping at straws, saying anything that he thinks will work in convincing me to stay.

  “Because I fucking love you! I fucking love you so much, is that what you want to hear?”

/>   His words—his declaration—hits me like a slap in the face.

  My heart leaps into my mouth and pounds rapidly. For a moment, I feel light headed.

  “No…that’s not what I wanted to hear. Not anymore.”

  I don’t even recognize my own voice. It’s too quiet, too soft. Like I’m the victim the tabloids have been painting me as.

  I watch David’s heart break through his eyes. He stares at me in sadness and shock. His voice is also small and quiet, in his dumbfounded state.

  “Then what do you want from me, Viv?”

  “I want you to let me go.”

  I take a step away from him and shake my head. I can’t bear to look away from him, so our eyes remain locked. I feel like I’m watching a car crash, and I’m too slow to stop it.

  So all I can do is wait for it to be over.

  “Goodbye, David.”

  Chapter 23

  David

  Wow. Good fucking job, David.

  You had your one chance, and what did you do with it?

  You drove her out the fucking door. Let her drive away.

  So much for having a big masterful grand plan, you fucking idiot. So much for winning Vivienne over and making her see just how sorry you are. No, I just had to go and fucking yell at her and then blurt out ‘I love you’ like some last-ditch effort.

  Vivienne is more special than that. She deserves a lot more than a rushed ‘I love you’ from a man who has nothing else to offer her.

  She deserves the fucking world, and I’m going to be the one to give it to her.

  My only saving grace is that she hasn’t left for the airport yet. There were no flights until this morning, which gave me twenty-four hours to figure out how I’m going to fix this mistake and prove to her that I’m the man she wants me to be.

  I had Charles find out where Vivienne was staying, then asked him to arrange for a limousine to pick her up. Viv thinks that it’ll be taking her to the airport, but as I check my watch, I realize that she’s due any second now.

  It’ll be just like in the movies.

  I hope.

  I don’t know. I’ve never done this before—but Viv makes me want to be a better man, the best man. She makes me want to be the man she really deserves.

  So, here I am.