Page 1 of Rogue Royal
Chapter 1
Douglas
“What in God’s name do you think you’re doing, Douglas?”
His father’s voice echoed around the large sitting area, and Douglas kept his eyes lowered despite inwardly seething, once again, against the injustice of having his life mapped out for him and caught on camera for the entire world to scrutinise.
“Do you have nothing to say for yourself? I’ve heard plenty from Eric.”
His father—Andrew Alexander Charles Sutcliffe, King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland—wouldn’t like what Douglas had to say, so he stayed silent. Eric was Douglas’s bodyguard, and Douglas had told him to always tell the truth regardless of how much trouble Douglas would get into. He didn’t want to put Eric’s job at risk for being untruthful.
Douglas flicked his gaze towards the other person in the room, who stood a step behind him, hands clasped around a tablet, which undoubtedly held Douglas’s transgressions.
“What’s the damage, Maverick?” Andrew asked.
His mother, Louisa, reclined in an elegant antique armchair that appeared designed to be uncomfortable and unbecoming. The old-fashioned fabric, though well-maintained, was…old. It reminded Douglas of something his great-grandparents would have used. Come to think of it, it almost certainly was the same piece of furniture.
“The media have published several photographs of His Highness in a compromising position. The focal point appears to be on who the unidentified man was and not so much on His Highness. Despite the…position of His Highness, no private areas were visible. I believe this should blow over—” Douglas couldn’t help it if a snort escaped at those words. “—within a few days due to the…regularity of the incidents.”
Douglas clenched his jaw and fisted his hands, which were resting behind his back. He hated being the focal point of their discussions, especially when they spoke as if he was not in the room. All he’d wanted was to let off a little steam somewhere other than Club Royal after the shitty week he’d experienced, but he ended up trying to help someone instead. Now, he was standing in front of his parents, being reprimanded for something he didn’t do—well, kind of. Granted, he could’ve told them the truth of what he was doing, but they wouldn’t agree with it. He was willing to take the heat of a few rumours. Didn’t stop him from moping about it like a teenager, though.
The guy he’d tried to help had been slender and beautiful in his skinny jeans and shimmering tank top, but what had made Douglas glance twice was the makeup accentuating his features. If the guy—whose name he had no idea about—had told him he was an ethereal fairy goddess, Douglas would’ve believed it. But that wasn’t why he’d tried to help—he’d wanted to get him away from his asshole friend, who he believed had been trying to pimp the guy out. Unfortunately, as they were leaving the bar through the back alley, the guy had dropped to his knees, dragging Douglas’s waistband with him, then wrapped his shiny pink lips around Douglas’s cock. All thought had fled, especially when he’d seen the evidence the guy had left behind…and was waiting to be washed away.
He had never intended for the guy to do it, but he felt his dick twitch at the image of the guy on his knees, and he breathed shallowly to calm his libido. The fucking paparazzi were to blame for his leftover simmering desire. Bloody arseholes. Once he’d put the guy in a taxi home, he could’ve gone back into the bar again and found someone to help him out with his…issue.
“Douglas, from tomorrow, you will spend every spare evening working at the club until I say otherwise.” His father sighed and shook his head. “You would’ve thought with everything we have taught you at the club, you’d know restraint. Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear to be the case. Some extra tuition may be beneficial. Go to bed, Douglas. You have duties to attend to tomorrow, and now, a new evening routine to get used to.”
Dismissed, he pivoted and stormed away until a quieter voice brought him back.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
He returned and kissed his mother on both cheeks, her porcelain skin cooler than usual, and inhaled her honeysuckle scent that always reminded him of his childhood. Sending her a small smile, he left the room, marching down the exquisitely and expensively decorated corridors towards his bedroom. It wasn’t often he stayed within the walls of Windsor, but, as his father had reminded him, he had appointments to uphold the following day.
Aware of the footsteps following him, he ignored them as best he could. He would deal with “Storm Maverick” when he was safely ensconced behind closed doors.
He slapped his hand against his door, then twisted the handle to open it, wanting nothing more than to slam it in Maverick’s face but knowing he shouldn’t. His sitting room, with a dark wooden floor, was more neutral and modern than the principal areas of the castle. His space had white, cream and brown fabrics and dark brown walls. The fireplace, although never used, was a focal point, with a large circular mirror hanging above it.
With a sigh, he dropped into an unyielding but comfortable white sofa, repositioning the cushion to his side before crossing his legs and glaring at Maverick. The man, who had been a part of his life for the last two years, sat opposite him with a blank expression, his wavy, dirty blond hair framing his square face. Maverick crossed his ankle over his knee, supporting the tablet on his legs while he tapped on it.
“This is not part of my original job description, you know.”
Maverick’s voice was low and deep, and if Douglas hadn’t seen his face, he would’ve said warm as well, but there was no emotion showing. Douglas pursed his lips and linked his fingers over his stomach while trying to stop them from trembling.
“Being in the limelight was not optional for me. I didn’t get a job description before they gave me the job.” Douglas shrugged. “Get over it.”
Maverick shifted his gaze to Douglas’s without lifting his head, those steel-blue eyes spearing into him as if laying all his secrets bare. It was only Douglas’s training that stopped him from recoiling from the intense stare. When Maverick lowered his gaze again, Douglas exhaled silently.
“Tomorrow, you have three appointments arranged. The first is at ten o’clock with the children’s charity you wished to visit. You will have an hour and a half there, and we should be able to get some decent photos to mitigate the damage you have done tonight. Unless, of course, they contact us to cancel, which is highly likely.”
Douglas stood, heat seeping into his cheeks at the possibility of his favourite charity not wanting to be associated with him. He paced in front of the marble fireplace, working off his embarrassment.
“At one o’clock, you are to meet with the Secretary of State about your request for more information into the benefits sector.” Maverick scratched at his cheek, the continually present five o’clock shadow making the move audible, and Douglas flicked his gaze away, continuing his pacing. “Then, at seven o’clock, you are to join your parents for dinner with your brothers.”
Douglas halted, resting his hands on his hips and staring at the ceiling. “Don’t forget my punishment. Doesn’t that need to make it onto the itinerary?” It wasn’t a question, though it came out sounding like one. He couldn’t help but snap, even when he knew it wasn’t Mav’s fault. Again, his default setting appeared to be a teenage tantrum when someone embarrassed him, which was humiliating enough. He couldn’t seem to stop it.
Maverick was right on one front—he was doing more than his social media manager job title. Somehow, over the last two years, he had become more and more involved in the day-to-day schedule of Douglas’s life and was now in charge of his appointments as well as the social aspect of his appearances.
“Inputting it now.” Maverick stayed silent for several seconds before standing. His unwavering personality appeared much bigger than his height and muscle mass advertised—he was four inches shorter than Douglas but the same breadth in their shoulders. “I have you starting at the club at ten o’clock.”
