Page 15 of Royally F*cked

Chapter 6

Charlie

As much as I don’t want to go with Prince Not So Charming, I get the feeling I need to.

To save my job. And maybe even to keep my parents’ jobs safe.

“Fine. I’ll give you thirty minutes.”

Jude cracks a smile. “Great. Let’s get out of here.”

Oscar escorts us through the back hallway and into the castle tunnels that I’ve only heard rumors about.

“Should I be worried right now? Should we even be down here?”

This time it's Oscar who chuckles. “You’re safe. There’s a car waiting at the exit for the three of us. It was the best way to leave quietly, given the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” I question, unsure that I even want the answer.

“I think what Ozzy means is, it’s best if we keep a low profile for the time being,” Jude clarifies, as we come out on the backside of the palace.

Both men flank my sides and escort me into a town car with dark windows. Oscar puts my suitcase in the trunk and climbs into the front seat next to the driver, then we’re on our way.

“Where are we going exactly?”

“To my flat. It’s not far from here but it will afford us the most privacy.”

Prince Julius’s flat.

I am about to go home with THE prince.

This is not how I thought today would go when I got out of bed this morning.

“Start talking,” I urge. The sooner he says what he needs to say, the sooner I can escape. Where I’ll go, I haven’t thought that far ahead. Perhaps I can crash at my friend Edith’s place for a bit since it’s likely I’ll be forbidden from the castle by the end of the day.

Jude shakes his head. “Clock starts when we get to my place,” he says with a pat on my knee.

“Touch me again and I’ll. . .” I don’t know what, but I do think twice about finishing that sentence. Probably not a good idea to threaten the crown prince right now.

“You’ll what, Charlie? Do tell.” The cocky bastard smirks at me.

All that adrenaline that was clearly running through my system not so long ago is beginning to wane and I’m not feeling nearly as bold with reality setting in.

Oh my God.

Jude. Erm, Prince Julius, told the king of Herefirth that we are courting.

He barged into my living quarters. Caught me in the middle of changing my clothes.

And I threw a shoe at his back.

Oh, God. I threw a shoe—and hit—the prince of Herefirth.

And almost threatened him just now.

Ohhh boy. I’ve fucked up.

“Your Royal Highness,” my voice cracks. I should probably start begging for forgiveness.

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