Page 28 of Royally F*cked

Chapter 10

Charlie

When Oscar told us the plan for tonight and revealed what Jude had done for Herefirth’s underprivileged children, I don’t think I fully grasped the magnitude of what Jude had put together. Not only is there an event at Westerly Estates Hotel for orphaned and homeless children, but Herefirth Children’s Hospital is hosting a smaller version for the children that are too sick to leave the hospital. In fact, the hospital is our first stop.

Pulling up behind the hospital, we quietly make our entrance.

Here, we’re supposed to remain under the radar because of patient privacy rules.

After we leave here, Oscar has a member of the press waiting on standby to capture us at the hotel. An exclusive, meant to protect the children while still giving exposure on what our prince has really been up to - and of course, the official first look at...well…me.

I’m still not sure how I feel about that. But I can say, for the first time in my life, I do feel like a princess thanks to Agnes and her daughter Mignon. Then, Jude had to go and lend me his mother’s necklace which begs a whole lot of questions that I don’t think either of us are ready to answer. Either way, at least I look the part tonight - even if I don’t completely feel like I’m about to marry a prince.

“You ready for this,” Jude asks as he takes my hand, and the elevator doors open.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” And with that, I plaster a smile on my face and allow him to escort me into the fully decorated cafeteria.

The first person to greet us is a young girl in a wheelchair with an IV attached to her arm and a mask over her face. It doesn’t take away from her youthful beauty or the spark in her eyes though.

“Prince Jude! You made it! And I see you brought a date.” The young girl beams.

“Ottiline. Wow. You look lovely this evening,” Jude takes her hand and spins himself around her wheelchair as if they’re dancing.

The young girl giggles and blushes. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

She’s right. Jude in a tux - is a sight to behold. Seeing him all dressed up before we left his flat took my breath away. He may have said I was stunning, but he severely underestimates the power of a man as perfect as him, in a very well-fitting custom tux.

Attraction to Jude? There is no denying it. But, if I’m not careful, I could see myself truly falling for him.

Jude turns to me. “Charlie, I’d like you to meet Ottiline. Ottiline, this is Charlie.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Ottiline,” I tell her with a smile. “And I must say, your dress is gorgeous.”

“Thank you. Jude bought it for me,” she replies without hesitation.

When I look up at him, he looks past me and avoids making eye contact.

“He bought everyone’s formal wear for the night,” Ottiline goes on, completely unaware of Jude’s unease.

I can’t help but wonder just how much time and money Jude’s really put into this. And I cannot even begin to imagine why he would want to keep this sort of thing under wraps - besides his seemingly fierce protectiveness over the children, of course.

The media and the entire kingdom would have an absolute field day if they knew what their crown prince was really up to. It would win over the public in a heartbeat and shine favorably on the monarchy, without a doubt.

Who am I to make the call over what the prince does or does not share? That is what he pays his press secretary for, though I wonder if she’s ever tried to convince him to do things differently or considered a more appropriate way for Jude’s good deeds to come to light.

While it may be Jude who put both of us in this position in the first place, I do feel slightly guilty over the fact that the only reason his more than charitable work with Herefirth’s underprivileged youth is being exposed is because of me.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to go check in with the staff,” he winks, pats the top of my shoulder then walks away.

“Do you like to dance, Charlie? I love dancing. Unfortunately, being stuck in this thing doesn’t really make it easy,” Ottiline points to the wheelchair.

“I happen to love to dance,” I tell her. Even though I’m sure I’m the world's worst dancer. I tried Zumba once and I’m absolutely sure that right there’s the reason Justin Timberlake never called me about being a back-up dancer. “What do you say we take a spin on the dance floor?”

She squeals in delight. “Yes. Please!”

With some very careful coordination, the two of us wiggle around to the sounds of Alfie Templeman’s Who I Am. Ottiline’s laughter is the only thing that matters until her nurse cuts in and reminds her that it’s time for meds.

My heart nearly breaks when the girl’s face falls, and she tries pleading for five more minutes but her nurse is insistent that time is of the essence.

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