Page 52 of A Royal Disaster
The chaos outside was nothing compared to the chaos within the studio. Pottery wheels abandoned, the women rushed toward him en masse, their clay bowls—and penis—forgotten as they clamored for his attention.
“Prince William!”
“Oh-em-gee! It’s really him!”
“I just knew it! I knew he’d be here tonight!”
“And to think I almost let my husband talk me out of coming.”
So much for New Yorkers playing it cool.
The city had plenty of celebrities and athletes and musicians, but it wasn’t every day a girl got to meet Prince Charming in the flesh.
Lena wiped her hands on her apron. This was Jack and Ethan’s circus now. Let them deal with the royally obsessed stans and their ridiculous questions.
She watched as Jack, Ethan, and Liam attempted to calm the women, who were all shouting questions at them and talking over one another as they angled to get closer to HRH. When it became clear the men were completely and totally overwhelmed, Lena took pity on them. She tucked her fingers between her lips, issuing a shrill whistle that could stop a cab on a dime.
The studio fell silent.
“Ladies, please return to your seats and stop pawing my boyfriend,” she said, affecting a stern tone, although in truth, she wanted nothing more than to laugh. What had Liam been thinking coming here tonight? She’d warned him she had class and that she suspected some of her students were more interested in catching a glimpse of HRH than learning about pottery. Had he wanted to see it for himself?
The women trudged back to their workstations, and Lena had to cover her mouth to mask the grin curving her lips. Jack mouthedthank youand straightened his jacket, clearly unnerved by the onslaught of aggressive women. For his part, Liam seemed unfazed, but she suspected that was just his royal training taking over.
“What a pleasure to have you join us this evening,” Lena said, hastily adding, “Your Royal Highness.”
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” Liam flashed a charming grin at the class. Several of the women blushed and the bride-to-be sighed, as if he were speaking directly to her.
“We weren’t expecting you.” Lena arched a brow. Not that she was complaining. If he was here, it could only mean one thing…orgasms.
“Couldn’t stay away,” he said, affecting a sheepish grin and spreading his hands wide.
Lena stifled a giggle. If he wanted to play Prince Charming, she’d bite.
“Well, ladies, what do you think? Do we have room for one more?”
…
“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Liam said as Elena leaned over and dropped a misshapen ball of clay on his wheel. He’d stripped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, but the fact was, it wasn’t pottery that had brought him halfway across town. No, he’d been fantasizing about Elena spread out on that yellow quilt of hers like a royal feast.
“Keep it in your pants, Your Highness,” she whispered, slipping an apron over his head. “And who knows? If you do well with the lesson, maybe I’ll have an extra-credit assignment for you after class.”
“I’ll have you know I was first in my class at uni,” he said, pinching a bit of clay between his fingers to test the consistency. “Compared to Politics and International Relations, this should be a breeze.”
She laughed and patted his shoulder. “We’ll see.”
Twenty minutes later, as he was staring down an even more misshapen lump of clay, it occurred to him he’d been overconfident in his abilities.
“It’s a good thing you’re such a cutie,” an older woman to his right said, “because you’re shit with your hands.”
So much for that extra-credit assignment.
Liam glanced at the woman’s bowl, which was damn near perfect. The bloody thing looked like it had come off a production line, not a first-timer’s pottery wheel. “I’m open to suggestions,” he grudgingly admitted. No way in hell was he going to admit defeat. It was just clay, for Christ’s sake. Surely he could figure it out.
“You’re trying too hard,” she said, glancing at his slimy, miserable lump. “You can’t force the clay, you have to shape it.”
Wasn’t that what he was doing?
“Don’t listen to her,” the girl on his other side said, batting her eyelashes. “You’re doing a great job.”
