Page 23 of Royally F*cked

Once we’re alone again, he pours both of us a drink from the same decanter and sets a glass in front of me. Jude swaps our plates and takes a seat across from me. “Shall we enjoy our dinner while you look things over?”

“Yes. This is exactly what I had in mind when I said dinner together every night,” I deadpan.

Jude chuckles and shakes his head. “And here I assumed you meant formal dinner. At the dining table.”

I give him an eye roll before carefully digging into my food while reading what his lawyer has prepared. Legal speak aside, the contract is fairly straightforward, beginning with the updated privacy agreement that protects both of us. My list of requirements is clearly outlined as requested along with Jude’s addition of my college tuition.

Scrolling to the next page I see my obligations as future Queen Consort. Many of which are similar to what I’ve requested from the prince, and nothing that I didn’t already expect.

By the time I’ve finished reviewing the document, we’ve both finished our meals and my tumbler of whiskey is empty. The relaxed buzz from the dark alcohol is welcoming after what I’ve endured so far today. Who knew I even liked whiskey?

“Are you in agreement with what’s been outlined?” With his hands behind his head and his legs stretched out in front of him he looks less like a prince who is about to become the king and more like a model straight out of Vogue magazine.

For a moment I imagine what it could be like if this was all real. How it would feel to straddle his hips and grind against his hard length like some siren out of a romance novel while he kisses me. I can almost picture a hunger in his eyes, burning deep for only me.

He did say we’d have to consummate our marriage. And a girl can dream can’t she?

“Charlie.”

I blink twice then glance back at the screen. “Right. Yes. I am in agreement with what has been outlined.”

“Good.” Jude sits forward and pulls his cell phone from his pocket.

A few taps on the screen and moments later, Harry and Oscar join us. I move out of the way and allow Jude room to print four copies of the document which we both sign and Oscar witnesses.

“That’ll do it, Your Royal Highness. I’ll file this back at the office and you’ve each got a copy, plus a copy for the palace.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Jude nods.

“It is my honor,” Harry replies.

“That’ll be all for today. I can have Oscar show you out.”

“No need, Sir. I can see myself out,” Harry shakes hands with both of us once more before he exits Jude’s office.

“Very well, then. Oscar, phone the palace and schedule a meeting with my press secretary and the king, in that order.”

“Your Royal Highness, if I may. . .” Oscar hesitates.

“You may not. I already know what you’re going to say, and I respectfully disagree. I want to speak with my press secretary within the hour. I’ll take a meeting with the king at his earliest convenience but not a moment before we’ve drafted our official statement.”

“As you wish,” Oscar concedes and follows Jude’s orders.

---