From the way he said it, it sounded like a line he often used on the ladies. Goddamn, was there anything we didn’t have in common?
"That won't do you any good around here if it can't float." I pointed my thumb at myself. "Shipwright trade."
"Sounds like something my kid would do," Oliver said with a nod. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, so about that. I'll get right into it."
I leaned back in my stool and prepared to listen. Even if he was full of shit, Oliver didn't seem like a bad guy.
"Twenty-five years ago, I moved here permanently with nothing but the shirt on my back and the change in my pocket," he began. "And it was the best time of my life. Business was booming back then. When I wasn't working, I was drowning in beer and pussy. To this day, Gavin, I gotta say, American girls don't hold a candle to those here in Amberfall. I mean, damn."
"Another thing we agree on," I replied as I sipped my drink, attempting to numb my heart aching for Stella.
"One night I met this gorgeous blonde while out at the bar with my boys." Oliver looked off somewhere in the distance as he spoke. "She was obviously wealthy, looking like a posh slum tourist, but something in me wanted to show her a good time. A real good time."
He paused the throw back some of his whiskey before continuing. "The more I talked to her, the more I was just charmed by her. She was smart and with a wicked sense of humor. Over the course of a few hours, I started to wonder if there could be more than a night of fun." Oliver scoffed at himself. "We men pretend like we just think with our dicks, but we're really big softies. Am I right, Gav?"
"Don't even get me started," I sighed.
"So anyway, I brought her home and we had a great night. We were both drunk of course, so using protection or pulling out was the farthest thing from our minds."
I squirmed in my seat a little. If there was a slim chance that Oliver was my father, hearing him talk about the night I was conceived was beyond awkward.
"She left in the morning after giving me her phone number. I went off to my job site with a spring in my step as any young man who just bagged a hot blonde would." He paused and sighed deeply. "She told me her name was Lola."
"And let me guess. She gave you a fake number?" I couldn't help feeling a pang of sympathy for the guy.
Oliver laughed. "When I tried calling her, I realized she only wrote down six digits." He shook his head. "I tried every combination of numbers I could think of before giving up, thinking she genuinely just made a mistake."
"That's rough, buddy," I said and clinked my glass against his.
"I felt so duped. And I kept thinking back to when she was flirting with me. She kept asking if I recognized her from something. Like, 'You swear you haven't seen me on TV? Or in a magazine?' But she wouldn't tell me. I wondered if she was an actress or model. She looked the part, but I never watched any of that stuff." He shrugged. "It wasn't until I was in a bar a few weeks later and saw her on the news."
"What for?"
Oliver answered me slowly. "The queen's husband, King Philip of Amberfall, had died in a boating accident."
"No shit?" My eyes widened.
He nodded. "It was a big deal back then. The whole world knew about it. I was pretty ignorant of news and politics but everyone was talking about how it would affect the economy. And rumors flew that the queen was pregnant."
I cocked an eyebrow. "So you recognized her as the girl you hooked up with?"
"Yep," he affirmed. "She gave a eulogy at his funeral, which was televised all over the world, of course. I couldn't believe my fucking eyes. It was her without a doubt in my mind. I'd bet my left nut on it."
"So what'd you do?" If anything, his story held my interest just for the juicy drama it carried.
"There was nothing I could do," he said almost mournfully. "Clearly, she didn't want to be in touch with me. She said in her speech that she would not appear in public for a while during her grieving.” He paused and looked deep in thought.
“Now that I think about it, she was out of the public eye for about nine months." He downed the remainder of his whiskey in one gulp. "She could've been carrying her husband's child of course, but I always wondered if that night... amounted to anything. But she made public appearances again eventually and a pregnancy was never mentioned. I figured the rumors were false and went on with my life, settling for being a dirty little secret. But I did always wonder."
He looked up and seemed to stare straight through me, as if he saw everything I’d been through play like a movie when looked in my eyes.
“Then I saw you on TV two weeks ago for that big event and I knew. I just fucking knew you were my boy, Gavin.”
"If what you're telling me is actually true," I said cautiously. "It was awfully risky of her to fool around on her husband like that.” If I had any remaining respect for my mother, it was at a deficit after hearing that.
"I'd prove it to ya if I could." He sat up like he'd gotten a bright idea. "We could do one of those DNA tests. I've heard it's pretty easy these days."
I shrugged. "I could really care less, man. Even if you are my dad, it doesn't exactly change my situation."
"Maybe not," he agreed. "But I thought you'd like to hear my take on your situation."
"And what the fuck do you know?" My temper flared. Bio-dad or not, who did this guy think he was?
"I know you love that girl."
My body reeled back as if it had been punched. "How..?" How the fuck did he know about Stella?
"Did you forget the whole thing was on TV? I saw you with her. I saw how you talked to her, looked at her, how you danced. I'm an old man, Gavin. I know it when I see it."
"Doesn't mean you know anything about us," I snapped defensively. "She's not a cheating slum tourist like that Queen Cunt."
"See, even now I can tell by your reaction. You love her," Oliver said calmly. "But she's not here with you. You're alone, drinking yourself to death like all these other poor fucks. Why?"
I bristled at the invasive questions. "It's complicated." The last thing I wanted to do was talk about Stella to a complete stranger.
"It comes down to she's a royal and you're not. But you had the chance to be and you didn't take it," he observed. "Am I wrong?"
"I don't belong with them," I hissed. "The royal family, and especially Her Fucking Majesty, are nothing but a bunch of pompous, powdered assfucks."
"But you belong with her."
He stated it as if it were a simple fact of nature. And truthfully, it was. These torturous last two weeks taught me that I needed Stella. If I never saw her again, she'd still haunt me forever.
I'd never know happiness again unless she was mine.
"What the fuck do you care?" The question burned at me like a brand on my skin. "You're a stranger to me."
“Even so, I know in my heart you’re my son, Gavin,” Oliver said. “And I want the best possible life for you. I don’t want you to make the same fuck-ups as I did.”
“Well, I didn’t knock her up, so no need to worry,” I replied dryly. “I wrapped my dick up. Maybe you should’ve done the same. Then this whole situation could’ve been avoided.”
“My point is,” he said tersely. “You have an opportunity that I never had. That none of our fellow tradesmen have. Right now there is no one representing us, fighting for our rights in the government.”
“I see where this is going,” I scoffed. “I’m always someone’s puppet. A means to an end.”
“No, Gavin,” he urged. “I know you’re passionate about our issues. You care about a balanced, fair government. I can read you like a book. If you were in a position of power, I know you’d do right by the people.”
“How do you know any of that? How do you know I’m not just some rotten, lowlife scumbag?”
“Because you have both the blood of a long line of tradesmen and royalty in your veins.”
“Even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean shit.”
“Doesn’t it, Gavin? Look, life is un
comfortable sometimes. You gotta get through hell and all kinds of difficult shit to not only get what you want but appreciate it when you get it.”
I clenched my fists and felt my fingers shake. My thoughts wavered between lots of uncomfortable feelings. This guy had some nerve just walking into my life claiming to know what was best for me and that pissed me off.
But what if he wasn’t wrong?
It was true I didn’t want to waste my life working myself to the bone for pennies until I dropped dead. If I could help the working class of Amberfall avoid the same fate, that would be worth it.
And I could be with my Stella.
I pictured us as a happy family, never worrying about money or having our position taken away. But most importantly, never being torn apart again by fucked up social rules.
“I’d have to grovel at the queen’s feet,” I said through gritted teeth. “The woman who abandoned me at birth and sent this country down the toilet. How can I live with myself after doing that?”
“It’s quite simple,” Oliver said casually. “You just do.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“I’m serious. Build a bridge and get the fuck over it. You either love your woman, and your country for that matter, enough to get through one uncomfortable meeting or not. So do you?”
“More than anything,” I answered without hesitation.
“Then once you get through that, you can get through anything, my boy.” He held up his glass. I hesitated for a moment before clinking mine to his in a toast. My heart pounded as I swallowed my last mouthful of well whiskey.
With that toast, I sealed my fate.
Tomorrow, I’d no longer be a working class nobody.
CHAPTER 27
GAVIN
After sending Alex a few texts, I had an appointment booked at Marie's salon for the next day and a meeting with Queen Valencia directly afterward. I went home after my final toast with Oliver and didn't sleep a wink. I tossed and turned, wondering about him, wondering what I should say to the queen.
Nothing was tougher to swallow than my pride, but I had to if I wanted Stella in my life, my arms, and my bed. And I wanted her more than anything.
I still had my suspicions about Oliver's true motives, or if he really was my father at all, but he made me realize what truly mattered and I was grateful for that.
Just don't fuck it up again, Gavin.
Alex's car showed up for me at 9 am the next morning on the dot. I took one last look at my shit hole apartment before leaving. If I did this right, it would be the last time I saw this place.
Good riddance. I could get used to nicer digs.
The ride to Marie's was a deja vu-like experience. Everything looked and felt the same, from the weather to the grim expressions of the Queen's Police as I entered the salon.
"Well, there's a handsome face I never thought I'd see again!" Marie exclaimed when she saw me. "What can I do for you, dear?"
"I have a private audience with the queen in a few hours," I replied.
That was all she needed to hear. "Come with me, Gavin! You're lucky I still have your suit measurements."
My makeover and suit fitting went over much faster than my first time. The mood was more serious than before and neither of us had anything to drink. I knew I had to keep my wits sharp and my filter in working order.
"Thank you for doing this," I said to Marie as I stood in front of the mirror in my new custom tailored charcoal grey suit. "I thought I might've been permanently banned from the palace."
"I'd see you even if you were," she said softly. "Everyone deserves a second chance."
“I hope Her Majesty feels the same way,” I replied.
And Stella too.
***
Queen Valencia’s regime thrived on intimidation. Good thing I’ve never been easily intimidated. Her police force doubled when I approached the main palace entrance and searched me twice with frisking and a metal detecting wand.
They stayed uncomfortably close to me, practically stepped on my heels as they escorted me through the vast, open building. The entrance to the throne room made me feel tiny. I felt like an ant crossing what felt like a great distance that was actually nothing compared to a larger animal.
Cold, stone walls, stained-glass windows, and high-arching ceilings reminded me of a Catholic church. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if the queen had a God complex.
I thought of Stella, steeled my nerves, and clenched my fists as I marched closer. This bitch wasn't going to intimidate me or get under my skin. And I wasn't going to leave until I got the results I wanted.
Just like in a movie, the queen sat on a golden chair decorated with glittering jewels of every color, with a plush red cushion. She sat on the opposite end of a room as large as a gymnasium, at the end of the velvety red carpet. I would've rolled my eyes if I could. This woman was a walking cliche.
"You have a lot of nerve, requesting an audience with me," she said as a way of greeting. Already she wore a smug expression on her botoxed, powdered face, ready to enjoy proving herself above me.
"I've never been in short supply of that, Your Majesty," I responded.
"Why have you come? I don't have an endless supply of time to waste on drunken fools."
"I want to sincerely apologize for my outburst at the ball," I began. "It was a beyond inappropriate way to conduct myself. I'm grateful for your generous decision to not arrest me." The sarcasm dripping from my last sentence seemed lost on her.
"It would have been a waste of police resources," she scoffed. "No use in trying to train and adopt a stray dog, that's what you taught me that night."
Never before had I wanted so badly to punch a woman in the face. But I clenched my jaw and dug my fingers into my palms. I had to stay calm, keep under control for Stella.
"The thing about stray dogs, Your Majesty, is we know our territories." I decided to go along with her own metaphor. "We know how the city is run at the lowest level, and that knowledge may be useful to you."
Her eyebrows raised just slightly and I knew I caught her interest. "I'm listening," she said casually.
"I'm sure you know you're not popular with the working class right now," I said. "It would help them to be more productive, thus boosting the economy, if they had a representative among them in the royal family."
"And you think you're the right man for the job?" she scoffed.
"I do, Your Majesty. If I may guess, that was your original plan before I embarrassed everyone at the ball."
"And what if I've already chosen someone else to be their representative?"
I almost rolled my eyes again at such a pathetic bluff.
"Respectfully, Your Majesty, if you appoint anyone who they don't know and recognize as one of their own, it's very likely they may revolt against the Crown."
"There's been whispers of that for years. Why would this be the thing to spur them into revolt?"
"Because it sends a clear message that you don’t care about 90% of Amberfall’s population,” I replied pointedly. “Now whether you actually do or don't is not for me to say, but I imagine you do want to keep your crown and your life."
Her eyes narrowed and she leaned toward me at the edge of her seat. "Are you threatening me, Gavin?"
"My ultimate wish is for both sides of my family to be in peace,” I answered. “My fellow tradesmen as well as my blood family, namely the Prince and Princess, as they are the future of Amberfall."
"Yes, unfortunately so." Her lip visibly curled in disgust.
"The people want to see acceptance and transparency in the government,” I pointed out. “Prince Alexander's confession may have been a blessing in disguise for the monarchy, Your Majesty."
"That is what my Cabinet members are telling me,” she said in a whiny tone. “It seems I have very few true loyalists now and everyone is embracing change."
"This will be the easiest way for you to remain in power without violence and economic collapse," I said carefull
y.
The queen shot me a look that for the first time, I couldn't read. "You remind me of your father, Gavin." She smiled wryly. "Such a spokesman for the people. And such underestimated intelligence."
She said nothing more and I was almost too afraid to ask directly. "Does that mean you'll consider me as the representative?"
"You've caught my attention, certainly. Come to today's Cabinet meeting," she said as she stood. "Present yourself to the members and convince them to vote for you. The results will depend on what they decide."
My heart leaped victoriously in my chest, despite facing another hurdle. "Of course, Your Majesty," I replied, perhaps too eagerly as I bowed my head. "When is the meeting?"
She looked at the enormous clock on the wall. "In about a half hour."
CHAPTER 28
STELLA
I clutched my passport and boarding pass to my chest as if they were the only things in the world that mattered. At that point, they were.
"You're sure about this?" Scarlett asked me again with a gentle nudge.
"As sure as I can be." I took a deep breath. "If it’s worse than here, I can always come back."
Or just go somewhere else until I escape this dark cloud chasing me everywhere.
"You're going to have a fantastic time! I just wish I could help you get settled in,” she said apologetically. “Alex is blowing me up, saying I'm needed in a super important Cabinet meeting. Apparently, we're voting on something and I need to be there."
"Go. I'll be fine," I urged her.
Scarlett squeezed me into one final hug. "Call me as soon as you land! I don't care if it's at two in the morning here."
"I will," I promised. "See you soon, Scar."
With that, I slid into the backseat and allowed Alderton to shut my door. As we pulled away from the palace, I watched Scarlett through the window until she was a tiny speck in the distance.
Mum hadn't said goodbye to me when I left home, and the one with my dad was strained. On the way to the airport, I had Alderton stop by the palace so I could get a proper goodbye with Scarlett, the only one still on my side.
Beauty and the Bastard: A Royal Bad Boy Romance Page 13
