Blitzed by the Brit: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (44 page)

T
he news
of our marriage had leaked out before we’d even left the pub after lunch. Ellie and Dani had jumped in a taxi to get back to university, but Sophia and I fled home where—despite me offering—we did not get to consummate the marriage.

Sophia attempted to go to class once, but the media chaos stopped her even getting close to the lecture hall. After that, the university doubled down on security, but Sophia decided to take some time off from her studies. She’d catch up easily enough.

The media eventually moved on from the shock of my existence, and started debating what the hell was going to happen to the order of succession. The consensus was that the current royal family were fucked. My claim was valid, and I could easily prove it with a DNA test.

Right now, there was a Queen on the throne likely quite concerned about the need to move house soon, and a Prince and Princess watching their future disappear down the drain. They had every reason to hate me, and yet for some reason we got an invitation to dinner at Clarence House.

I would have declined, but Sophia got hold of the invitation and insisted we attend. At least it was another excuse to see her in a formal dress again. That was worth a night spent talking to the royals I was about to usurp.

I
f I were ever King
, the first thing I’d do is cut down on the eleven layers of security it took to enter a building. It seemed fucking rude in my book to invite someone to your house and then treat them like criminals on the way in.

Not to mention, one of the guards had the nerve to put his hands on Sophia. I hadn’t even done that yet. Not recently, anyway.

If the ride from the airport had taken one minute longer, I wouldn’t have been responsible for my actions. The dark blue silk clung to her body enough that I could picture her completely naked. The dress was nearly entirely backless, revealing a part of her I hadn’t seen yet, but as usual, it was the legs that had me captivated.

Had I always been a leg man? I certainly was where Sophia was concerned. Perhaps standing all day for work was a good way to keep the legs toned. It certainly hadn’t done her any harm.

The dinner turned out to be a rather intimate affair, but that was just fine with me. Just Prince Stuart and his younger sister, Princess Mary. Plus about twenty servants.

“I’m afraid Mother couldn’t make it,’ Stuart said, referring to the Queen. “Well, that’s not quite true. She could, but she thought it would be inappropriate to meet at this stage.”

“No problem,” I replied. As much as I liked to play it cool, meeting the Prince and Princess had set off a few butterflies in my stomach. Meeting the Queen would have been something else entirely.

I probably shouldn’t be here anyway, but Sophia and I agreed it would be best to keep the appointment. We wanted to look like a normal couple for the time being, and normal couples wouldn’t turn down trips to meet the royal family. Besides, if my plan went wrong, I might still need to play the part of a prince for a bit. That thought held less appeal with each passing minute.

We all sat down at a table that was far too large for just the four of us. A servant appeared over my shoulder to pour wine. Not exactly my drink of choice, but perhaps it was a little early for whiskey.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Mary said.

“Same,” I replied briefly.

“I love your dress,” Sophia said enthusiastically. I was used to American accents, but tonight her accent stood out a mile in a place where even the servants spoke the Queen’s English. It just made me want her even more.

“Thank you,” Mary replied. “Yours is absolutely divine. Mother would never let me wear something so risqué.”

“To be honest, neither would mine,” Sophia admitted. “She’ll have a fit when she sees me on television later.”

Mary immediately warmed to Sophia, although she looked like she hadn’t spoken to a ‘normal’ person in years. When Mary found out Sophia was from California, she asked her if she’d “bumped into” any celebrities. I opened my mouth to point out that California was actually bigger than the UK; you didn’t just ‘bump into’ celebrities on a regular basis. I decided against it. I’d already displaced her in line for the throne; no need to make her look stupid as well.

“I’d love to meet Jennifer Lawrence,” Sophia admitted, after Mary had asked her what the Oscars were like. “I suppose I’ll be able to do that now.”

“I’ve met her,” I said, the words slipping out before my brain could stop them.

“When?” Sophia asked.

“Uh, nevermind. Story for another time perhaps.”

Butlers came out and served us the first course to save me any further questions on that topic.

“Start from the outside in,” I whispered to Sophia, who looked confused by all the cutlery choices.

“How do you know all this stuff?” she asked.

“Must be in the genes.”

Stuart must have overheard because he suddenly turned red and looked distinctly uncomfortable. He’d been calm all evening, but it wouldn’t have escaped his notice that I stood to push him down the pecking order.

“We should probably deal with the large elephant in the room,” Stuart said. “I want you to know that you won’t have any issues at our end if you want to stake your claim to the throne.”

“Thanks,” I replied.
Stake my claim
? This felt like an episode of
Game of Thrones
.

“Unfortunately mother is insisting on a blood test before anything is definite. After all, there’s no conclusive proof at the moment.”

“I believe it though,” Mary added quickly. “Uncle Michael always did have a reputation for… that sort of thing.”

“A blood test is fine with me.”

Frankly I wouldn’t completely believe it myself until I saw scientific proof. It just didn’t seem possible that I was related to these people. Mind you, I looked like part of the family compared to Sophia. She even ate like an American.

I smiled watching her cutting up her food into pieces before moving the fork to her right hand to eat.

“What are you laughing at?” she asked softly.

“No reason. I just think you’re adorable.”

“I am adorable, and don’t you forget it mister.”

“Impossible,” I replied. “Absolutely impossible.”

“
W
e’ve prepared
the largest guest room for the two of you,” Jeeves said, as he showed us to our room. That had to be his name. If it wasn’t, I’d make him change it when he worked for me.

“Thank you,” Sophia said before darting into the room. I’d seen women in a rush to get into the bedroom before, but they were usually dragging me through with them. “Oh thank God for that,” she yelled, as I closed the door.

“You didn’t enjoy dinner?”

“Yeah, dinner was fine. I just need to get out of these shoes. My feet are killing me.”

“Come here.” I took her hand and dragged her over to the armchair in the corner. “Sit,” I commanded.

She didn’t so much sit as fall, but she ended up in the armchair anyway. I grabbed another chair and sat down by her legs, so that she could rest her feet on my lap.

“If you think you’re going to get me into bed with a foot massage,” Sophia said, as I took hold of her feet, “you have another thing coming. I’m not some innocent young… oh shit, that feels good.”

She moaned sensually as I pressed my thumbs firmly into the arches of her foot and pushed up to the toes.

“Good job we have some privacy,” I said, as Sophia squirmed on the chair as if my fingers were a lot higher up her leg. “So, you’ve just met a prince and princess. How do you feel?”

Sophia lay back on the chair with her eyes closed, still purring gently as I rubbed her feet. “Not all that different actually. I am engaged to the heir to the throne after all. These people are insignificant by comparison.”

“
These people
? Oh God, I’ve created a monster.”

“A monster with sore feet. Now do the other one please.”

I took hold of Sophia’s other foot and squeezed the heel with my thumbs. Would it be completely wrong to kiss her feet? And then her calves? And then work up her thighs until I could taste the sweet goodness between her legs?

“You know, I’m getting rather uncomfortable in this dress as well,” Sophia said softly.

“You want to go to bed now?”

“No. I just want you to get me out of this dress.”

I
should have taken
a picture of this moment. George looked lost for words. How often did that happen?

He snapped out of his trance when his phone vibrated aggressively in his pocket.

“Shit.” He pulled the phone out and went to throw it on the chair until he saw who the message was from.

I saw the name too; Tabitha. The woman he’d been speaking to after our wedding. The woman he loved. An undeniable feeling of jealousy washed over me every time I thought about that moment. I dealt with it by trying not to think about. Perhaps that wasn’t a great long-term solution, but it would do for now.

It had almost worked. I’d barely thought about Tabatha at all tonight. Thoughts of her were buried so deep in the back of my mind, that I’d been about to give in and sleep with George. He clearly wanted to, and didn’t seem to feel guilty about betraying this other woman. What did that say about him?

George typed out a quick reply, and turned his phone off. “Sorry about that. No more interruptions.”

It was too late for that. The moment had passed.

“Who is she?” I asked. I knew I sounded like a crazy, jealous girlfriend, but we were married, and I’d been about to screw him. I was entitled to ask about this other woman he loved and was messaging while he was with me.

“Just someone asking me about the big dinner,” George replied. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s pick up where we left off.”

“You’re in love with her.”

“Huh?”

“I heard you.” I hadn’t been spying on him. No point pretending I hadn’t heard. “You spoke to her just after we got married, and you told her you loved her.”

“Oh. Well, yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“You ‘suppose’ you’re in love with someone else?”

We both knew what I’d left unsaid. Why couldn’t he love someone else? He wasn’t in love with me, and I wasn’t in love with him. We might be married, but I didn’t have any claim to him.

“I’m not ‘in love’ with her. That just sounds weird.”

“What do you mean… oh,” I trailed off, as I realized who the woman must have been. If the thought of being in love with someone was ‘weird,’ then it likely meant said person was either a very close friend, or a family member. “Cousin?” I asked.

“Close. Sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yep.”

“And don’t you think you should have mentioned that before now?” I asked.

“We’ve never really discussed family. It’s not like I know a lot about yours.”

“Yes, but my family tree doesn’t include a claim to the throne of the United Kingdom.”

“It does now. Anyway, Tabitha doesn’t have a claim. She was born a few years after my Mom’s marriage to the King ended, and she has a different father. She also lives in the States, actually.”

We hadn’t spoken much about family because I cried every time I tried to talk about my mother. I didn’t have any other family to speak of, but it had never bothered me before. My friends had all been more important to me. Then they’d betrayed me.

“Are you close?” I asked.

“Yes,” George replied. “Very. In fact…”

“In fact?”

“I should have told you all this sooner.”

“This isn’t filling me with confidence, George.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” George took a deep breath and sat back down on the chair. I didn’t speak; he suddenly looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His usually strong frame, now slumped down as if he’d given up the fight. “I lied to you.”

My heart skipped a beat, and then made up for the loss by pounding away in my chest at twice the speed. Now it was my turn to sit back down; better that than faint.

“What did you lie about?”

“The reason I’m doing all this,” came the reply. “The reason I asked you to marry me, and the reason I want to claim my inheritance.”

George reached out and placed his hand on mine, but I pushed his away and pulled mine out of reach. Our marriage hadn’t exactly been under the most romantic of circumstances, but that made the lie hurt even more. I’d told him the truth about needing a visa. What could be worse than wanting to marry me just to claim a load of money and live like a playboy?

I might not want the answer to that question; I asked anyway.

“Tell me,” I insisted. “We need to be completely honest with each other. I’m pretty sure that was in the vows.”

“My sister, she’s… not well. Neither is my nephew, her son.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

I sounded cold and callous grilling him on the topic of his sick family members. Maybe I was like my mother after all?

“They were in an accident a few years ago. Actually, you know what, fuck that, it wasn’t an accident. They were hit by a car. A car driven at them deliberately by her ex-boyfriend. It’s fucked up.”

“Oh my God.” I quickly reached out and placed my hand on his just like George had tried to do to me earlier. “I’m so sorry.”

“They’re okay,” George said, squeezing my hand. “Well, they’re not completely okay, obviously, but they’re not on death’s door or anything either.”

“You need the money to look after them?” I asked.

“Yeah. They’re both undergoing physical therapy, and as you may know, your country doesn’t believe in providing medical care without it being accompanied by a fucking huge invoice.”

“I had noticed. I’m almost tempted to have an accident while I’m here just to make use of the NHS.”

George smiled and squeezed my hand more tightly. “I should have told you.”

“Yes, you should have. I’ve been imagining you living like a player on your new fortune. I feel bad for your sister and nephew, but I’d rather the money go to them than bottles of champagne and loose women.”

George laughed out loud and pulled me up out of my seat and flying onto his lap. “I don’t actually like champagne, and I’m hoping to just live it up with one loose woman for the time being.”

“I am not loose,” I insisted.

“You’re assuming I’m talking about you.”

“You’d better be,” I replied.

George laughed again, but this time the laugh stopped quickly. He reached up and held the back of my neck, before bringing me down towards him for a kiss.