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“Where is Leo? I thought he was your new babysitter?” Atticus asked while inspecting his cuticles. He looked completely at ease while I was fucked up inside. We were sitting in the rear of my royal motorcade headed downtown. Going anywhere was a huge production when you were king. I missed the days of aimlessly wandering on my yacht.
“He isn’t here,” I gritted. I didn’t want Leo to be here today, so I gave him some bullshit patrol job at the front gate of the castle. Far from Christine. Far from me. I knew my mother would reassign him once word got back to her, but it was nice to give him a shitty job nonetheless.
Atticus’s question was innocent enough, but it pissed me off all the same. Just thinking about Leo made me want to punch some drywall. I’d been gritting my teeth all morning. And it wasn’t just because he was an annoying, presumptuous shadow. No. He did something last night that made me rage.
In the early hours of the morning, I caught a glimpse of Leo leaving Christine’s room. I was just coming back from getting high in the gardens when I saw him sneaking out and looking all kinds of just fucked.
His long blond hair was messed up. He had a wild look in his eyes. Leo had definitely gotten some action with my future wife, and I wanted nothing more than to rip his balls from his body and serve them to the sharks.
Well, burn my paper heart.
It was time for Leo to leave.
The moment I saw him, I felt a sense of fury that was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I felt like the real heir of the late King Frederick. The brutal dead king possessed my body, and I wanted to show the world just how many of his bloodthirsty tendencies I’d inherited.
I realized Atticus had asked me something. “Hello? August?” Atticus said while staring impatiently at me. “Leo? Where is he? I figured he’d be your personal shadow again. The man watched you like a hawk when we were in school.”
An idea suddenly came to me, and a broad grin crossed my face. I didn’t have to kill Leo.
Atticus would do it for me.
I faked a bored yawn before responding. “I’m pretty sure he’s with Christine.” I couldn’t sound too eager with him. There was something satisfying about fucking with Atticus. He was just as in love with Christine as I was, and he’d handle this little problem. I tapped my knee with my fingers. Christine and I ended things in an unpleasant manner yesterday. Ideally, I would have stormed into her room and demanded to know why she was messing with my personal guard. However, I did not have the right to ask her that question. Just a few weeks ago, a photo of me getting a blow job in a nightclub surfaced. Last year, I had a sex tape that was leaked. I wasn’t the poster child for celibacy, but the idea of Christine being with anyone else was enough to make me consider locking her down.
I’d be monogamous if she would. Yeah? Maybe.
Maybe not.
I wasn’t even sure Christine wanted that with me. There was a time when we were friends, and then we became strangers. Now? Now we were engaged.
How the fuck could I navigate all of this without losing her forever?
“Are they close? He’s always been like an older brother to her, hmm?” Atticus asked. Nosy fucker. I had him right where I wanted him.
I snorted before letting out a bitter laugh. “Lately they’re more like kissing cousins. I saw him leaving her room at three a.m., his hair a mess and his clothes wrinkled. Had that freshly fucked look about him.” As Atticus stared at me, I couldn’t help but feel a great deal of joy in seeing him hurt by that news. His eyes darkened. His lips set into a firm line. Hook, line, and sinker. “I’m hoping to find Christine a gorgeous rock for that sweet little hand. Then I’m going to remind Leo that fucking the future queen is bound to get him killed.”
“The monarchy truly needs to bring back public executions,” Atticus said in a deathly low tone while staring out the window. I turned in my seat to stare at him. “Where is he now? I can have one of my associates talk to him.”
That was code for I’ll have one of my men break every damn bone in his body.
I was tempted by the idea, but I didn’t need the mafia killing my guard. I just wanted to scare him a bit. Maybe make him piss his pants and think twice before pursuing her again. I had a sinking feeling that if we did any more, then Christine would be pissed. She was only vaguely aware of all the things Atticus did, and I preferred it that way. She didn’t need more reasons to flee the fucking country in terror.
“We don’t want to scare her away and take her shiny new toy. If Leo is keeping her here, then I’ll endure it for now. Once she gets a taste of me, she’ll forget about the poor little bodyguard.” I let out a sigh. “But I might want you to threaten him a bit. Make it clear that he can’t have her.”
“Shouldn’t you be the one threatening him? You’re the king. Her fiancé.” His lip curled as he glared out the window. “Fucking Leo. I should have known. He was always bringing her stupid chocolates when we were younger. Pervert. Isn’t he like thirty?”
“Twenty-eight,” I answered. “Joined the guard when he was eighteen.”
“I won’t kill the bastard, but I’ll have men keep an eye on him,” Atticus said while pulling out his phone. I might have been the future king, but Atticus’s wealth and power gave him enough influence to get the job done. “And I’ll let you threaten him. I can’t do all your dirty work, Your Majesty. It’s insulting you think I’m gullible enough to risk pissing off Christine like that. Even if I want to murder anyone that touches her.”
I fucking hated Atticus. Why the hell did I put up with him? “I thought you liked Leo. The two of you have always been cordial.” I watched him type out a quick message and put his phone back in his pocket. So maybe I was poking him a bit. Whatever. He cast the first stone.
Atticus crossed his arms over his chest. “That was before I learned of his relationship with Christine. She’s been back two fucking days. How is he already… Don’t answer that.”
Atticus was such a fucking hypocrite. “I’m the one marrying Christine, and here you are helping me pick out a ring. What’s the difference?”
It wasn’t long before Atticus tipped his head to the side and began laughing as if it were the funniest thing ever. I had never heard such a pretentious sound before in my life. Even his broad shoulders shook. Did I mention I hated him? He had to wait a good three minutes before he was calm enough to utter an answer to my question in a way that I could understand. “Christine doesn’t want you. That’s the difference. You might have had a chance when you were a teen and your mild acts of rebellion were cute, but we’re all grown up now. She’s not amused by your antics. Marriage between the two of you will just be a piece of paper. If she ever fucks you, it’ll be out of pity.”
I didn’t want him to be right, but Atticus was always adept at finding my deepest insecurities and poking them with a switchblade. I didn’t even know why we were friends anymore. “Fuck you. I should have brought my mother.”
