Royally Screwed: A British Bad Boy Romance

by Jessica Ashe

  “This is none of your business,” one of the girl’s friends—let’s call her Gretchen—yelled out from behind her.

  “It is my business, because some of us have work to do, and we could do without idiots coming in and shouting their mouths off.” Speechless. Lovely. “Run along, children.”

  The girls turned on their heels in almost perfect unison, and stormed off. I cast a stern gaze around the café to make sure that anyone who’d been watching the show quickly went back to their work, or typing on their phones. No doubt this would be all over Facebook within thirty seconds if it wasn’t already.

  “Thank you,” Jody said softly. “You didn’t need to step in for me.”

  “I’m sure you could have handled it, but I have a passionate hatred for slut-shaming.”

  “I didn’t take you for the feminist type.”

  “Oh, I’m not. I just have a vested interest in women not being slut-shamed.” Jody frowned in confusion. “I want women to feel comfortable having one-night-stands. It works out to my benefit, if you get my drift.”

  “Ah,” she said with a smile. “Yeah, I get you.” Just as I was about to go back to my work, she added “I didn’t screw him.”

  “I honestly don’t care either way.”

  “I tried to, but he couldn’t get it up.”

  “And now he’s trying to make you look bad because he’s scared you’ll tell people?”

  “I guess.”

  “I’m sure he was kind and considerate enough to take care of your needs though?”

  “Oh sure,” she said. “He gave me a brolly so I didn’t have to walk back to my room in the rain.”

  I laughed. “By the standards of this place, he’s practically a gentleman.”

  “Unfortunately you’re right. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to work.”

  Jody put her headphones back on and I went back to watching Sophia. Except Sophia wasn’t there anymore.

  I looked around, but she was nowhere to be seen. Surely she hadn’t snuck off without so much as a goodbye?

  Then I saw her.

  She came out of the back room carrying a notepad and a couple of textbooks. I watched as she cast her gaze around the room looking for somewhere to sit.

  There was only one chair left in the entire place.

  And it just so happened to be right opposite me.

  Chapter Four

  Sophia

  We needed a staff-only table in this place. The staff room out back was far too hot and stuffy to study in, so I had to come out here with everyone else. Except there was only one seat free, and three guesses who was sitting at that table.

  Ellie had let me serve George thinking she was doing me a favor. If the job involved just looking at him then I would have been grateful. Unfortunately, when he spoke, his words drove me crazy. And not in a good way.

  He had the posh English accent most Americans assumed everyone here spoke with, but while he sounded charming as hell, his words made him sound like an arrogant douchebag. If I’d wanted one of them I would have stayed in America.

  Even by student standards, he looked roughly kept and disheveled, but damn he could pull it off. He had serious bed head, and the bags under his eyes suggested he hadn’t gotten much sleep, but somehow that look suited him.

  The lack of sleep could no doubt be traced back to a female student who lived on campus. The slim-fit shirt he wore—with more buttons undone than done up—had so many creases, it was obvious he’d thrown it to the floor in a hurry the night before.

  The lack of a jacket even though it was about to rain also screamed “walk of shame.” He probably wouldn’t like that term though. Not judging by the way he’d stood up for Jody. The coffee shop was supposedly full of liberal, modern students, but George had been the only one to do anything about that little scene. Everyone else had just stood back and watched—me included.

  George waved me over, motioning to the empty seat opposite him. I triple checked the rest of the tables to see if anyone else might be leaving, but everyone was settled in for the day.

  I had no choice.

  I walked over to George’s table and set my books down loudly. I wanted him to know I was only here for one thing, and it wasn’t to continue our conversation.

  “Hi,” he said, a big grin etched across his face. He sat back in his chair, with one ankle resting on the other knee as he sipped at a coffee that must surely be empty by now.

  “Hi,” I replied, looking down at my books and frantically opening the page to where I’d left off. I had a hundred pages of reading to do before I could even make a start on the three-thousand-word essay that was due in two weeks. I didn’t have time for anything—or anyone—else right now.

  “Glad you could join me.”

  “I’m not joining you. I’m sitting here to work.”

  “So I see. What’s the topic?”

  “The English Civil War.”

  “Ah, a favorite topic of mine.”

  “You like English history?” I asked incredulously. He didn’t exactly look like the history type. He was more the type to fake an interest to get in someone’s panties. Was that what he was doing now?

  I crossed my legs under the table. No time for thoughts like that.

  “I like most history up until the end of the English civil wars actually. After that it starts becoming too focused on politics. I can read about kings and queens all day, but prime ministers send me to sleep.”

  “Wars?” I asked. “You said English civil wars. Plural. There was only one.”

  George gave a shrug of the shoulders. “I’d say there were three, but it depends how you define it. People lump the separate conflicts together and refer to it as a war, but that’s not really accurate. So what’s your essay on?”

  Was this really the same guy who had spoken to me earlier? They seemed like two different people. I didn’t have any special interest in English history—I’d only chosen it because it seemed like the logical thing to study in England—but I could listen to George talk all day. If I had professors like him, it wouldn’t be so difficult to stay awake in class. Without the arrogant words, his smooth voice was like a drug that made me sleepy and aroused at the same time. Either way, I’d be heading to bed.

  “Nothing,” I replied, snapping out of my trance. “I mean, we can choose what to write about.”

  “And what are you going to write about?”

  “I don’t know yet. I still have loads of reading to do.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were already getting in your excuses for turning me down later.”

  “I don’t need an excuse to do that,” I replied. “Besides, I’m already going out with friends tonight.”

  “I want to see you again.”

  The word ‘okay’ was on the tip of my tongue, and came desperately close to escaping my lips. Would it really be such a bad idea to see him again? He was as easy on the eyes as he was on the ears. He was older than the other students, and didn’t look like the type to down shots at the end of the night.

  He was the ‘Prince Charming’ I’d been looking for, but maybe that’s not what I wanted after all. I’d told everyone back home that I was going to England to meet a nice English guy and settle down, but that was only half the story. I was also escaping my past heartbreak.

  I’d been concentrating so much on finding a man, that I hadn’t dealt with the shame I still felt for what happened with Stan. Maybe I wasn’t ready to move on just yet.

  “No,” I replied eventually. I couldn’t be taken in by a nice accent and a handsome face. And nice arms. Strong shoulders. Deep, dark eyes. “I have too much work to do.”

  He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t heard the word ‘no’ in a very long time. “The hard bit is finding a title for the essay,” he said, quickly moving on past my rejection. “Once you’ve got that, the rest will flow easily.”

  “Sure. But like you said, finding the title is the hard part.”

  �
��I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “If I give you an essay title and some pointers on what to discuss, you agree to go out with me tomorrow night.”

  “I can’t go out three nights in a row,” I pleaded. My brain was already begging me to get an early night. However, face-to-face with George, other parts of my body were making pleas of their own.

  “I’ll have you in bed by ten. Whether you choose to sleep or not is up to you. Do we have a deal?”

  I looked up to the ceiling and then back down with an overly-dramatic sigh. “Okay, but it had better be a good title.”

  “It’ll more than suffice. Call it ‘The Fallacy of the English Civil War.’ You can split it into two sections: first, the fact that the war wasn’t English. It involved Scotland, Ireland, and Wales too. People often look past that. Second, it wasn’t just one war. If you want, you can talk about how history has chosen to refer to it in a way that promotes English dominance over other nations, blah, blah, blah.”

  “That sounds… better than anything I could have come up with.”

  “Good, then it’s a date. I’ll meet you outside here at eight.”

  “It’s not a date,” I said firmly. “I’m just going to have a drink with you to thank you for your help, and also to thank you for shutting up so that I can get on with my reading.”

  “Fine with me,” he replied. “I just want to enjoy my last couple of weeks of freedom.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing. I’ll leave you to it.”

  I stared at the page in front of me, refusing to turn and watch him walk away. The words wouldn’t sink in. I wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but I should be able to get out of it easy enough. I could fake being ill on Saturday if necessary.

  I sure as hell couldn’t go on a date with George. I could handle the drunken idiots, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle him, and that had me scared.

  Maybe I didn’t want to meet Prince Charming after all. I was just running from my past. The last thing I wanted to do was repeat my mistakes.

  Wasn’t that exactly why we studied history in the first place? To learn from our mistakes.

  Those ignorant of history are doomed to repeat it.

  I knew my history, and I was determined not to repeat it.

  Chapter Five

  George

  It wasn’t often I smiled when walking across a university campus, but no amount of students could make me miserable now.

  A text from my favorite journalist sure could though.

  The leak will happen soon. Real soon. Sorry, there was nothing I could do. Editor’s orders.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  How soon? I asked in reply.

  Maybe tomorrow.

  Fucking bloody shit. I couldn’t go out with Sophia tomorrow night. Even if the news hadn’t leaked by the evening, she’d wake up to find a hundred photographers outside her door or mine, depending on where we ended up. No country had a press quite like that of Britain. They were ruthless, and they’d be on me, and anyone I was with, in an instant.

  I had to see Sophia again. I didn’t just want to squeeze in a little more fun before the news leaked. I wanted to squeeze in a little more fun with her before the news leaked. I doubled back and snuck into the café without her noticing. She was still on her break, studying hard, although she hadn’t turned the page yet. Slow reader perhaps.

  Sophia had been talking to another barista when I’d come in and they seemed to be close. Can’t hurt to try.

  I walked up to the counter and under my breath introduced myself to a woman called Ellie.

  “Did you get anywhere with Sophia?” Ellie asked quietly.

  “Yes, but there’s been a change of plans. Do you know where she’s going to be tonight?”

  “Oh yeah, I think I can help with that.”

  * * *

  “I wish you would stop stressing about all this and see the positive side,” Tabitha said. My half-sister lived in America now, but that hadn’t stopped her being addicted to tea and biscuits. Even over the video chat, I could see her dunking something resembling a bourbon into her tea.

  “There is no positive side,” I insisted. “Our lives are about to get turned upside down. Worst of all, I’m going to end up bringing you and Liam into this mess.”

  “It’s not your fault. You can’t help who your father is. Besides, as I keep telling you, you don’t owe us anything. Stop stressing.”

  How could she appear so calm all the time? Tabitha could barely get around the house by herself, let alone look after her young son. Yet every time we spoke she always sounded like the happy one, while I was miserable and determined to find a way to fix all my sister’s problems.

  “I won’t stop stressing until I’ve fixed this mess,” I replied. “I’m going to get my inheritance, and then I’ll sort everything.”

  “You need to let go,” Tabitha said calmly. “Your engagement to Alisa collapsed—thank God—so now you’re not going to get your hands on that inheritance. Time’s almost up. Not unless you ensnare some poor girl in your scheme in the next few...”

  She trailed off when she saw the look on my face on her laptop.

  “There’s still time, sis. You know me, never say never.”

  Tabitha was right, but I couldn’t accept that yet. There had to be a way out of this. The problem wasn’t even that complicated when you boiled it down to the basics. Liam and Tabitha had medical bills—big ones. They needed money. I had to get money. Tabitha and I had different fathers, but mine had put a nice little sum away in a trust. After Mum’s death, that money became mine, or at least it would if I could satisfy one simple condition—get married by the time I’m twenty-five. Simple.

  And if I couldn’t get the money that way, there was always plan B.

  I hated the idea of marriage—I was a walking male cliché in that respect—but I hated plan B even more. Marriage was my idea of heaven in comparison. A wife might be a ball and chain, but plan B would be a ball and chain, plus I’d be locked up in a dungeon, with the key thrown into the ocean. Or maybe I’d just be locked up in the Tower of London. I didn’t even like London.

  “You don’t need to do all this for us,” Tabitha said. “Liam is my responsibility not yours. And it’s not your fault I didn’t get left much in the will. My biological father wasn’t quite as rich as yours.”

  “Few people are,” I said softly. “Look, we’ve had this conversation before, and I’m not going to change my mind now. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you and Liam are set for life.”

  “Even if you have to get married to do it?”

  “You haven’t seen the woman I have in mind. It wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice.”

  * * *

  By the time I arrived at Viva, Sophia, Ellie, and another girl, were already chatting to three guys who were buying them drinks.

  The three girls were tarted up to the nines, but it was only Sophia who had my attention. She wore a short black skirt that glittered slightly when caught by the lights, and clung tightly to her body. Her legs had a light golden tan that many of the women around here tried—and failed—to match with less natural tanning methods.

  She wore a white halterneck top with a plunging neckline, but I couldn’t make out much of her chest. That would have to be a treat for later.

  Much as I had done earlier today in the coffee shop, I sat at a table and enjoyed the view. The only difference was that this time I sipped whiskey and not coffee.

  I felt an unusual pang of what I assumed was jealousy in my chest as I watched Sophia chatting to the guy closest to her. The three guys looked like they were investment bankers, but there weren’t many of them in York. That meant they were dressing in pinstripe suits and loud ties because they wanted to look like investment bankers. That said all you needed to know about these three.

  Sophia kept smiling at the guy talking to her, but there were no other signs of attraction. I was an expert at reading women�
�s body language, and there was no way she wanted this guy.

  She took regular sips of her drink as he spoke, suggesting she was bored stiff by the conversation. She nodded along at regular intervals, but only to look like she was still paying attention. Finally, her chest pointed more towards the bar than the guy. If she wanted to capture his attention, one flash of those things would have him drooling and buying her all the drinks she wanted. The fact that she didn’t bother spoke volumes.

  I couldn’t relax. I polished off one glass of whiskey, and ordered another from a waitress hanging around close by. It was no good. I couldn’t enjoy the whiskey while Sophia was chatting to this moron in a suit.

  I made my move and headed to the bar. As luck would have it, the three men decided it was a good time to go to the toilets. And I thought only women went together. Probably planning on doing a few lines while they’re in there. Classy places like this were just the same as grungy bars. The guys snorted more expensive drugs and wore better clothes, but it was all the same at the end of the day.

  Ellie caught sight of me approaching and smiled excitedly. She clearly hadn’t told Sophia I would be here tonight.

  “Good evening, Sophia,” I said, approaching her from behind. I placed a hand on the soft skin of her back and bent forward slightly to kiss her on the cheek. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

  “What the hell.” She spun around in her seat and kicked me in the shins in the process. “Oops, sorry.”

  “No problem,” I lied, as the pain gradually faded.

  “What are you doing here? We said tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah, but I’m an impatient guy.”

  “Anyone going to introduce me?” the third girl asked.

  “Dani, this is George,” Ellie said.

  “How do you know his name?” Sophia asked her friend. “Nevermind. His presence here tonight has your name written all over it.”

  “You’re welcome,” Ellie said dryly. “Would you rather keep talking to Whit?”