Page 6 of A Royal Disaster
It was also the reason he’d been evasive when she’d asked where he was from. Guilt pricked at his conscience. He should’ve been forthcoming, but if he had, their entire dynamic would’ve shifted, and that was the last thing he wanted. He liked the way she challenged him, not backing down and not taking any crap.
“It’s about bloody time you turned up,” Fin said, each word laced with irritation. “I’ve been ringing you all afternoon.”
“Did it occur to you that I wasn’t interested in talking?” Liam returned, suppressing a sigh. Fin was an excellent assistant and a better friend, but he’d become quite the rule follower in recent years and had a tendency to go full mother hen when they traveled beyond the borders of Valeria.
“No, but I did wonder if perhaps you were lying face down in a gutter somewhere.”
Liam smirked. “Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”
“That’s debatable.” Fin wrinkled his nose and did a slow scan of Liam’s clothing. “Where’s your jacket?” he asked, gaze fixed on the too tight EVA T-shirt. “And what is that all over your trousers?”
“It’s nothing,” Liam said, turning his attention to the fully stocked bar. He hated the absurdly ostentatious and wholly American limousine the hotel provided, but it did have its perks. He selected a pristine tumbler from the rack and removed the ivory napkin folded neatly inside. Tossing it aside, he reached for the whisky. He’d need to tell Fin about the paparazzi, but it could wait. Better to let the conversation—and the whisky—run its course before mentioning the paps. “Did you bring me a change of clothes?”
“Of course. And don’t change the subject. You can’t keep giving the security detail the slip,” Fin said as Liam poured himself a drink, the amber liquor splashing up the side of the glass. “This shit was funny when we were at uni, but we’re not students anymore. You’re the Crown Prince of Valeria, and this is an important diplomatic mission.”
Liam sipped the whisky, savoring the smooth, smoky flavor as it burned a path to his gut. Did Fin really think he needed a reminder? His role had been drilled into his head from the time he spoke his first word. Hell, his earliest memories involved etiquette lessons with Miss Cartwright, a deceptively sweet-looking ballbuster who never lost her temper but could subdue the unruliest of royal children with a sharp twist of the ear.
Fortunately for Liam, he’d been a quick study. The same couldn’t be said of his younger siblings.
“How did the meeting with the Colombians go?” Fin asked, switching gears.
“Complete waste of time due to the unrest in Valeria.” Liam raked a hand through his hair. With Parliament pushing to diminish the power of the Valerian monarchy, the Colombians weren’t inclined to take the new terms seriously. “The ambassador expressed concern the crown won’t be in a position to honor the agreement in the future.”
“Bollocks.” Fin paused, as if considering the implications. “It’s an excuse to delay negotiations and push for a more advantageous trade agreement.”
“Agreed.” Not that Liam faulted the ambassador for trying. He would’ve done the same had their roles been reversed. But it didn’t make the man any less of a prick for suggesting Liam might have to get a real job someday. “Which is why I walked out.”
Fin gave a beleaguered sigh, making it clear he didn’t approve of Liam’s aggressive negotiation tactics. But that was nothing new; he rarely did. “Should I schedule a follow-up meeting?”
“No.” Liam was determined to let the overzealous ambassador sweat it out. Despite the longstanding trade agreement between the two countries, there were plenty of other places Valeria could source commodities. “Get me a list of the top exporters of coffee, bananas, and petrol. We need to show the Colombians we’re prepared to forge new alliances.”
“The king isn’t going to like it,” Fin warned, making a note on his ever-present tablet.
“Then I suppose he should’ve handled the negotiations himself.”
Fin shot him a dark look but said nothing.
Liam had expected the New York trip to be a reprieve from his parent’s endless pressure to choose a bride and deliver a royal heir, but so far, it had been one diplomatic headache after another. Which was why he’d ditched his guards in hopes of spending a quiet afternoon exploring the city. Not that he’d gotten to see much before the paparazzi picked up his trail. “That reminds me, you’ll want to advise the palace press secretary there will be some unfavorable pictures in tomorrow’s populars.”
A vein pulsed along Fin’s temple. “Dammit, Liam. You were followed again?”
“What do you think it says about my security detail that I can give them the slip and not the paps?” Liam mused, ignoring Fin’s question and polishing off his drink.
Fin muttered something about replacing Liam’s personal guard, but it was an idle threat. In Valeria, Liam had mastered the art of sneaking out at age fifteen, yet here in America, it was damn near impossible to slip away unnoticed thanks to the bloody tabloids. Sure, being named World’s Most Eligible Bachelor by a major publication was flattering, but it was also a royal pain in the arse.
Ever since that blasted article had dropped, the press had been hounding him nonstop. Two weeks in the city and he hadn’t had a moment’s peace. They followed him from one appointment to the next, shoving cameras in his face as they inquired about his marriage prospects, preferred brand of underwear, and favorite sexual position. It was completely undignified.
His brother Xander would have loved it.
“This isn’t funny.” Fin’s voice rose an octave, a sure sign he’d reached the end of his patience. He wasn’t the only one. “Your number one priority is to build confidence in the monarchy. If you bugger up this trade agreement, Parliament will use it to their advantage, and you could very well lose your crown.”
Like hell. He’d dedicated his life to serving the people of Valeria, and there was no one more committed to seeing the country flourish. He would sit the throne when his time came.
“Honestly, Fin. Have a little faith.”
“My faith is hardly the issue.” Fin pulled a fresh shirt from his bag and handed it to Liam. “Not when the paparazzi are trailing your every move.”
“You think I like the press nipping at my heels any more than you do?” Liam slipped the new shirt on over the EVA T-shirt and began fastening the buttons. “I used to think the American lack of restraint was charming, but this obsessive fascination with royal life is exhausting.”
