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“Balduin, prepare all the paperwork for me…I’m going to do as the good doctor has advised,” I said and leaned back in my chair, looking across the table at her.
I had been dreading tomorrow…and now I was looking forward to it.
This idiot.
It baffled me. How the hell had he remained so…innocent. Especially considering how he was the personal assistant to the king before. Even though the unruliness that was once in our king had been tamed by our queen, it did not change the fact that no one would ever dare call the king innocent or pure. I could only imagine the things one would have seen as his personal assistant prior to going to Seattle. The newspapers painted a very stark picture, but I doubt even they knew the depths of the king’s former…escapades.
But this one…this blond-haired, baby-freckled-face, emotional drunk knew all of it, had been seeing all of it, and yet still acted as if he were fresh out of a catholic school boys’ choir.
It bothered me almost as badly as his actions right now.
“Wolfgang,” I called out as I moved to the couch in my office. It was three in the morning! What in the world was he doing…outside of drinking from the nearly empty bottle of champagne on the floor beside the couch. “Wolfgang!”
“Uh?” he grumbled in protest as I tried to wake him.
“You have to be up early to assist the queen. Go home or at the very least, go sleep in one of the staff rooms!”
“No…yelling…at me,” he muttered, sniffling as he dug his head into the pillow once more.
I felt that familiar urge rising in me, and before I could stop, I smacked him hard behind the head.
“Ouch!” he hollered, rising as he held the back of his head, staring up at me wide-eyed. “Why must you always do that?”
“You did not want me to yell, so I chose a different method of communication.”
“Since when is hitting me a form of communication?”
“Since it has worked,” I shot back, picking up the mess of food and the bottle he left behind. “Does my office look like your personal bedroom? Why did you come here—”
“I needed to escape,” he said, causing me to stop, even as he muttered and grumbled other things under his breath.
Tossing the plate and the bottle in the trash, I turned back to him. “Escape what?”
“The ever disapproving looks of me.” He held up a silver flask with the crest of a wolf and sword at its back.
Where the hell did he pull that out of?
Rising to his feet, he took a large swig and held it out to me.
“We have work in a few hours—”
“We always have to work; that’s why learning to drink is important,” he shot back.
“You are drunk,” I snapped at him.
He snickered and then nodded and laughed outrightly. “Buzzed, either way.” He shoved the flask back in my face. “Drink!”
I stared at him for a moment. This was the first time I had ever seen him like this. Shaking my head, I took the flask, took a swig, and by God in heaven, it burned like lighter fluid down my throat. Coughing once and then a second time, my eyes watered as I looked at the flask as if it were cursed.
“What…in the hell is this piss?” I coughed again.
“Family made.” He nodded to me with a shit-eating grin. “Finally, something that shakes Iskandar the Rock.”
I wanted to roll my eyes at that damn name. But instead, I took a breath and regained my composure. “I drank. Will you go now?”
“Why are you lecturing me to go to bed when you are still up?” he questioned, sitting himself back on the couch again. “You have to be up to protect the king. Don’t you need more sleep than me?”
“If you must know, I was going to rest after I logged the report—”
