Beauty and the Bastard: A Royal Bad Boy Romance

by Annette Fields

  I leaped out of the car without waiting for Atherton to open my door.

  “Miss Lundenberg, please! It isn’t safe!” His words echoed into the distance as I ran up the stairwell. Two weeks ago I would have heeded his warning. I would have cared about wearing an expensive dress in this shady part of town and jumped at every shadow. But as I clamored up the stairs in my evening gown and Louboutins, running into Gavin’s arms, feeling safe and secure there, was the only thing on my mind.

  I ran to the door where I knocked every morning for two weeks straight and rained my fists down. “Gavin, are you in there?”

  My ear pressed against the door, desperate for any sign of life. “Gavin, it’s Stella! If you’re in there, open the door!”

  I pounded again until Gavin’s neighbor opened his own door and poked his head out. “Your boyfriend ain’t come home tonight, little lady. No need for such a racket,” said the old, grizzled man.

  “Thanks,” I said and hurriedly ran back down the stairs. “He’s not home,” I told Atherton as I got back into the car. “We need to check all the bars in this downtown area.”

  “Bars? Miss, I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

  “He’s definitely at a bar so that’s where we’re going,” I said impatiently.

  “If I may be so bold, Miss Lundenberg, why do you wish to find him so badly?” asked Atherton.

  “Because I care about him.” The answer came automatically without any thought. I didn’t care what anyone knew or speculated, I just had to know where he was. I had to talk to him. Every second wasted meant he could end up passed out in a ditch or worse, arrested.

  ***

  We found him at the third bar we searched, only four blocks from his apartment. At some point, he ditched his jacket, vest, and tie. His hair was disheveled in that irresistible way, locks falling over his forehead, while the top buttons of his crisp, white shirt came undone. Even with perfect tailoring, his shirt barely contained the broad muscles of his arms, chest and back.

  He still looked wealthy compared to everyone else at the bar, which explained the scantily-dressed woman with raccoon eye shadow trying to lure him into a conversation.

  But he only looked up from his whiskey glass when I approached and lifted a corner of his mouth in a smirk.

  “Hey, Stel.”

  “Hey, yourself.”

  I glared at the woman until she slunk away defeated, and slid into the barstool next to him.

  “What a night, huh?” he remarked, inspecting the amber liquid in his glass.

  “Tell me about it.” I glanced up at the TV screens behind the bar. Thankfully, a sports game was playing rather than our faces all over the news.

  “Want a shot, Stel?”

  “Sure, why not,” I said without thought.

  Gavin laughed as he slid his drink over to me. “Never thought I’d see you drink anything else but million-dollar bubbles.”

  “You saw me drink coffee, didn’t you?” I tentatively sipped the amber liquid and immediately regretted it. The burn in my throat gagged me into a coughing fit.

  “Touche.” Gavin chuckled as he handed me a glass of water which I accepted eagerly. “But damn, I’m admiring the hell out of Alex right now. He’s got to be the first openly gay Prince in the history of the fucking world. That takes serious balls.”

  That was the truth. Prince Alex made history that night. Amberfall society was generally LGBT-friendly, but like with any government over 100 years old, laws and traditions were slow to change.

  Groundbreaking as it was, the prince’s announcement was the farthest thing from my mind at the moment. I had to save my own ass, and Gavin’s.

  “Gavin,” I said cautiously. “We’ve got to sober you up, put you in a new suit, and go back to the queen immediately.”

  He sighed deeply and looked exhausted. “Stella, if you knew me at all, you know that’s not going to happen.”

  “You have to.” The desperation crept back into my voice and I hated how it sounded. “Gavin, we need to apologize and smooth this over. Right now.”

  “Forget it. I’m sorry your talents were wasted on me, Stella, but I’ll never ask for a damn thing from that woman. After seeing how she treated her own, legitimate son, that was the last straw.”

  I placed my hand on his forearm and squeezed, silently begging him to see how much I needed this, how much we needed this.

  “Gavin, right now things can’t possibly get any worse. There’s a small chance we can make things better.”

  I watched his face as he considered my words and felt his muscles flexing in his arm under my hand. He suddenly moved as if to slide off the barstool and stand, but fell forward toward me instead.

  “Gavin!” I yelped out of both concern and surprise and braced my hands against his chest to steady him.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you, Stel.” His smirk was so close, I could feel his breath on my lips. “Suppose I’m a bit drunker than I thought.” He’d shot one hand out to steady himself on the bar.

  The other hand firmly gripped the side of my waist and my pulse quickened. His hand felt heavy, strong, secure.

  “Ahem. Miss Lundenberg?”

  “She’s alright, man,” Gavin growled at Atherton, who hung back near the door but still watched me closely, and held onto me tighter with a possessive grip. “She’s safe. No one’s going to hurt her.” Even in that moment with everything weighing on me, I could not imagine Gavin being any sexier. The dominance in his voice purred along my skin and I wanted more.

  “We should take him home, Atherton,” I said, allowing Gavin to lean on me slightly, feeling my heartbeat quicken as his lips brushed against my temple.

  My driver sucked in a deep, disapproving breath, but nodded his agreement and left to bring the car around.

  In a sudden burst of boldness, I touched my lips to Gavin’s ear. “I’m taking you home to rest.”

  “Mmm, I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he murmured back and wrapped his other arm around me. As good as it felt to be in his arms again, he lost his support from the bar and we nearly tumbled to the floor.

  “Nope, none of that,” I said as I tried with all my might to pull him to his feet, but it was like pulling on a boulder. “You can barely stand. You’re going straight to sleep.”

  “If you say so, my Lady,” he replied as he climbed back to his feet.

  He didn’t protest and shuffled mostly on his own to the door but still leaned on me for support. Atherton opened the car door for us with a tight-lipped frown at the sight of Gavin draped all over me but he still said nothing.

  The drive to his apartment would be short, but once in the car, Gavin went from bad to worse.

  "I don't feel so good…," he groaned.

  "Lay down," I instructed.

  I scooted along the seat away from him to give him the room to lay his head down in my lap. My breath nearly caught in my throat at how gorgeous his profile looked laying across my thighs, despite how sick he felt. His jaw, chin, lips, and nose looked all drawn from a single, perfect line. Dark lashes fluttered over his brown eyes and he truly looked like a classical statue. Sure, he'd feel better if I put him in the front seat next to Atherton, but then I wouldn't be able to look at him like this.

  His eyes closed and he let out a sigh, his eyebrows knitted together. My fingers stroked through his thick locks of hair, massaging his scalp and trying to give him some comfort.

  "You're so good to me, Stella," he mumbled, his breath tickling the skin of my knee.

  "We're almost there, Gavin," I whispered.

  Atherton made sure to keep the partition open and looked at me in the rearview mirror suspiciously every few seconds.

  "He feels sick, he's just lying down," I told him. He didn't reply but continued watching me protectively. I sighed in frustration.

  I was tired of being watched over. Tired of being protected from what was supposedly bad for me. Why couldn’t I make that decision myself?

&
nbsp; My own words to Gavin rang in my head as a reminder: Your life doesn’t belong to you as a royal. It belongs to the country.

  Getting Gavin up the stairs to his flat was an ordeal, but we made it up with no accidents. Once I helped him unlock his door, he stumbled through the apartment straight to the bathroom. I hung back in the kitchen while I heard the distinct sounds of vomiting.

  Atherton remained in the doorway, always close enough to observe but far enough to not be in the middle of things.

  "It's time we head back, Miss Lundenberg. You've done your good deed for the night."

  I took a deep breath to brace myself for what I was about to say. "No, Atherton. I'm staying here tonight. You can go back."

  My driver's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, as I expected. I was doing the unheard of, the unthinkable.

  "Absolutely not! I'm not leaving you here alone with him!"

  "Nothing bad will happen," I assured, though I knew he wouldn't buy it. "He's sick. I'm just going to take care of him."

  "Pardon me, Miss, but I'm sure he's managed to recover from extreme drunkenness many times before without any help!"

  "Well, now he has help if he needs it. If he doesn't want me here, I'll call you."

  "What will I tell your parents?" Atherton looked at me bewildered, his face pleading me not to do this.

  "Tell them whatever you want. I'm a grown woman. I'm not a royal and apparently I never will be." I glanced at my phone full of texts, missed calls and voicemails from my parents. I couldn't bear to check them, not right then. "But this may be my last chance to set things right, Atherton. So I'm taking it."

  With that, I moved to the door to close it and he didn't stop me but pleaded one more time.

  "Please, Miss Lundenberg. I guarantee you will regret this."

  "I'll call you to pick me up tomorrow. Goodnight."

  I shut the door in his face, albeit gently, and exhaled the breath I'd been holding. Despite everything going wrong that night, I couldn’t help but smile.

  How liberating it was to do what I wanted, rather than what I was supposed to do.

  CHAPTER 19

  GAVIN

  I woke up slowly with the familiar splitting headache, but the hazy, drunken memories were of a different kind.

  Stella's beautiful face floated through my mind. Her expression morphed into her eyes rolling back in her head, biting her bottom lip as she orgasmed. I remembered the taste of her mouth and her gorgeous, creamy thighs straddling my hips tightly.

  Then I saw flashes of bright lights. A grand ballroom filled with people in formal evening wear. Stella looking pissed off and adorable. Queen Valencia.

  Oh, fuck. The queen.

  Last night's events hit me like a truck, but unfortunately not hard enough to knock me out again. I rolled over with a loud groan and covered my eyes with my arm to block the painful, searing sunlight.

  I fucked up royally. For myself, for Stella, everyone. We might have had good times getting to know each other, plus some sexy fun in the car, but I had no doubt she'd disappear from my life after last night's events.

  "Here, take this."

  I jumped with a start at hearing a woman's voice. Fuck, did I still bring some ass home from the bar after all that shit went down?

  After rubbing my eyes and blinking to bring the woman into focus, I knew I still had to be dreaming.

  Stella.

  She was wearing one of my T-shirts and sweatpants, looking bright, alert, and without a stitch of makeup on. I gaped at her, both stunned at her natural beauty and also at the fact that she was here at all. Sitting next to my bed, holding a glass of water and ibuprofen tablets out to me like it was the most natural thing to do.

  "Stella." My voice came out a weak, hoarse whisper.

  "Drink this," she commanded. "You're dehydrated."

  I accepted the glass from her and drained it in a single gulp. She went to refill it in the kitchen while I struggled to remember details from before I blacked out. Did she spend the night? Did we do more than making out and dry humping in the car?

  I collapsed back on the mattress, rubbing my temples and trying to think through the pounding in my skull. I'd been talking dirty to her at the ball. I had been meaning to bring her back home for a romantic evening but fuck, I wanted to remember it. To savor every moment.

  Her light footsteps padded back into the bedroom. I searched her face for any clues, but there were none. She looked calm, neutral, and like she got a full night of sleep.

  "Take these," she said again.

  I took the tablets from her and drained the glass again. This time, she remained sitting on the edge of the bed.

  "Thanks." I wanted to touch her, to pull her down next to me and kiss her, but I was clueless as to where we stood, how she still felt about me.

  "You were in pretty bad shape last night. Are you feeling better?" she asked.

  "Um, yeah." I cleared my throat. "Did you... spend the night?"

  Stella raised an eyebrow and looked at me sternly. "Like I said, you were in bad shape. I wanted to make sure you'd be okay."

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and not because I was disappointed that we didn’t fuck.

  "You stayed here to look after my drunk ass?"

  "Yes, that's what I said."

  I was touched beyond words. No woman had ever stuck around to care for me after a drunken night. My asshole attitude worked to drive all of them away, but not Stella. Only she caught a glimpse into the real me. But even so, I couldn't believe she stuck around after my monumental fuck up from last night.

  "Aren't you pissed at me? After... everything last night?" I asked cautiously.

  "I was for a bit," she said matter of factly. "But I was also concerned for you after you disappeared. I didn't want you getting mugged or arrested."

  "I'm surprised you cared," I admitted. "I fucked up everything for you."

  "Well, you're sober now." Stella set the glass on the nightstand and smoothed her hands in her lap. "We can go back to the queen today and grovel for her forgiveness. We can't possibly make ourselves look any worse so might as well own up to our mistakes."

  I sighed.

  She still wanted to do that. This girl's stubbornness was both admirable and frustrating. I’d rather drag my balls through broken glass than be in the same room with that awful woman again.

  "It won't do any good, Stella."

  "We've got to at least try."

  "What did your family do?"

  "What?"

  I slid my hand across the mattress to wrap around her slender fingers. "When I spoke with the queen, she called your family traitors. She heavily implied I shouldn't trust you. Why?"

  Stella's eyes grew as wide as saucers and I tightened my grip on her hand. "She called us traitors before you made a drunken fool of yourself?"

  I nodded. "Whatever you were going to get for teaching me, it sounded like she never intended to pay you."

  She looked away from me and sat back, looking worn out and defeated. "That bitch."

  In spite of the seriousness of our situation, I chuckled. "You're so sexy when you curse."

  Stella didn't look amused. She just stared off sadly into the distant corner of my room. "Hey, I'm sorry." I sat up and scooted closer to her, loosening my grip on her hand to rub her arms gently. She shivered but didn't pull away.

  I placed a tentative kiss on her shoulder. As she turned her face toward me, I pressed my lips to her temple. She wanted comfort and touch, I could feel it against my skin when I held her. She needed me and I needed her. But I had to know why she was sad.

  "We know she's a bitch, Stella. Tell me what she did to you. I know it's not just about your nanny."

  She sighed deeply and I pulled her closer to me for support. It was the least I could do for her supporting me with my head in the toilet for half the night. She leaned against me, feeling so delicate and fragile in my arms. For a moment, I thought I could be a man worthy of her. Strong, support
ive, and exactly what she needed.

  "My family used to be royal," she began. "I used to be Lady Stella of House Lundenberg."

  "I knew that much," I said, pressing my thumbs in circles against her shoulders.

  She curled up against me, melting into my bare chest as she continued. "My father was a Lord in Her Majesty's Cabinet. He was her Head of Finance.

  “About twelve years ago, the queen really lost a grip on running the country. It was like she didn't care anymore. Against my father and everyone else's advice, she began redirecting money from government programs into her own pocket."

  A shudder coursed through her body, and I rubbed her back reassuringly. The heaviness in her words sounded like she never talked to anyone about this before.

  "She wouldn't listen to reason, so my dad began funneling money away from her private account secretly. He invested in unoccupied land and funded small towns' programs. He did that for two years before she caught on."

  Stella nuzzled her head under my chin and wrapped her arms around me. As I stroked her hair and planted kisses on her head, I knew this was the truth. She had taken her walls down and was finally fully opening up to me.

  “So he was like Robin Hood,” I said, tightening my grip around her. Without ever meeting him, I suddenly had an immense amount of respect for Stella’s father. That was the kind of person we needed in the government.

  "She fired my father from his position, stripped us of our title and sent us into exile. I was ten years old when he came home escorted by the Queen's Police. We were forced out of our home and sent to live in the middle of the woods.

  “All of my father's allies in the Cabinet were also fired and exiled one by one. Only the queen's loyalists remained. Plus Prince Alex."

  "Good old Gay Prince Alex," I mused.

  Stella smiled and it warmed my heart. "The queen couldn't get rid of him and Scarlett of course, but he was furious at how she was handling things. He and Scarlett kept in touch with my family in secret ever since then. They were our only allies on the royal side."

  "Same here," I said and Stella looked up at me. "Alex told me everything about my birth when I was living in a shitty foster home as a kid. He and Scar have always been there for me. The only family I've ever had."