Page 37 of Royal Fake


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“It’s just a little tweaking while we get my world ready for someone as unique and amazing as Avery Johnson, trust me, we’ll get there.”

Already Georg was approaching. “You have such beautiful hair,” he commented as his fingers combed through the tangles that had twisted together while I was sleeping.

“Thanks?” I pulled my hair away from his fingers and flattened it to my head. “What are you thinking of doing?”

Instead of answering me, Georg looked to Liam. “I was thinking, Your Majesty, of making a simple upsweep do, tame some of these flyaways.” He picked at my hair again and my skin heated in anger and embarrassment.

“An updo sounds great.” Luckily Liam looked to me to confirm my feelings because I was just about to barge off the plane, walk into the airport looking totally whack and get on a flight back home.

Everything had taken a one-eighty and I was finding it hard to breathe. Suddenly, my breezy fun Irishman was this fucking prince who everyone bowed to and who called the shots and thought he had the right to toy with my life. He knew not to tell me that he was going to throw some overpriced highly conservative piece of crap over my Avery Johnson original. Yes, Manolo Blahnik’s were fucking everything… but seriously, I wasn’t that kinda girl. I loved combat boots and custom-made Vans, this was full-on all-out bullshit.

“I want an afro!” I protested, being a brat. “Tease it up nice and high!” I glared at Liam who laughed uncomfortably.

“Right, yes. Afro it is.” He flailed his arms in the air and Georg, who I’m pretty sure he totally offended, put his hands on his hips in a huff, obviously pressed for time.

“If you stay on the plane too long, people will talk!” he warned Liam.

“Yes, right.” Liam looked over to me again. “Please?” Oh, damn his begging.

“Fine.” I crossed my arms in front of me as Georg set out a mirror, combs, brushes, and hair product and got to work.

Liam ducked out of the cabin. “I’m just going to secure our arrival, be back in a pinch.” He gave my cheek a gentle stroke with his finger and my insides melted, but not for lust. This time it was genuine good old-fashioned fear.

It didn’t take long for Georg to finish my hair, and while he worked he talked.

“It’s so nice that His Royal Highness brought a friend along from the states. We rarely get a chance to meet any of his friends. He tells me you’re a fashion designer in New York. I love Kylie Morgan; it must have been such fun being her best friend.” Ah, so either Liam was spilling the beans or gossip had already caught up to us.

“I’ve known Kylie since we were kids, she’s the same to me as she always was, so the fame thing doesn’t faze me too much. When it’s just us… she’s just Kylie. Fashion is my life. I love it. I really think that what you wear says a lot about how you feel and what you want the world to know about your story.” I wasn’t sure why I was giving out so much info, but for some reason, I felt like I needed an ally who wasn’t a member of the royal family.

This guy was my kind of people. He was presumably gay, American, stylish, and fun. I wanted to hang out with Georg, the only downside was he had his head firmly lodged in Liam’s ass.

“Well, I’m so excited to be working with you. His Royal Highness hired me to be your makeup artist and stylist. I’ll be doing all your styling while you are here. I’m also from New York. The Prince thought you’d be more comfortable being styled by someone from the states, that being said, I’ve lived in Ireland and have worked with the royal family for about fifteen years. I moved here to be with my boyfriend, who is now my hubby, about twenty years ago and let me tell you, girl, you are gonna love Ireland. The weather’s a little milder than New York but it can be stank at times, but you know. The people are great and the food… well, you’ll get used to the food. The nightlife… the pubs… the lifestyle is all so great.” His enthusiasm waned a little and I could tell he had made adjustments to enjoy his life and my stomach bottomed out.

“I don’t need a stylist. I mean you seem wonderful and all, but seriously I don’t need to be styled.” I was so offended by the idea, I mean, I was a freaking fashion designer… hello, I could dress myself damn it.

“Oh girl, I know you don’t, but the royal style is a little out of your comfort zone. I’ve seen the cool stuff Flower Street does, but the king would drop dead if you wore any of it to court. That being said, I can’t wait for you to hook me up.” His smile was too infectious, my cold old heart melted and in my head, I praised Liam for finding Georg. At least there would be one reasonable person in my life.

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